#she’s FAR from a terrorist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cienie-isengardu · 2 years

Text

My RepCom Musing: Etain, Kal and Vau in TZ

Some time ago I rambled a bit about the parallel between Triple Zero and Order 66 and how in both cases Vau’s accused Kal of going soft by not wanting Etain and Besany face the consequences of their doing even though he was the one responsible for putting both women on that course himself (respectively, interrogation and stealing important data). Walon’s passive-aggressive reaction makes sense because let’s face it, it is always him (and Ordo) doing the dirty work in such situations.

But what I find also interesting in regard to Etain, is how both Mandalorians tried to spare her some unpleasant stuff and how differently she was treated.

I mean, Kal brought Etain to interrogation only partially to help Vau get the needed information as fast as possible. The other reason was to test her, not really the skills alone but if the team can count on her during the black op mission (“But the girl's got an edge to her. Let's see if she'll put pragmatism above principle.", as he said to Ordo). And yet, when Etain cracked up the prisoner’s resolution, Kal did not let her finish the job, leaving the worst for Vau:

So that was what she was doing. Skirata had wondered if she was using her Force powers to cause real physical pain. But she had cut to the chase and re-created the stuff that pain did to you anyway: it made you fear for your sanity long before your life.

He had to hand it to her. It was nonlethal and not that far beyond the usual mind influence. Maybe she was struggling to find an ethical limit in her own mind. Maybe it was her own nightmare, the worst thing she could conceive.

She kept it up for an hour. He had no idea whether she was suggesting terrible images and consequences in his mind, or if she was simply flooding him with adrenaline against his wishes, but whatever it was it was exhausting him and her with it. Eventually Orjul broke down sobbing, and Etain shuddered and looked disoriented as if coming out of a trance.

Skirata grabbed Vau's shoulder and shook him awake. "Get in there. She's broken him down enough for you to finish the job."

Vau looked at his chrono. "Not bad. What's up? Don't want to let her face the real consequences?"

"Just do it, will you?"

[...]

Skirata caught Etain's elbow. He wasn't used to grabbing small people: his lads were solid muscle, bigger and stronger than Etain. He felt as if he were clutching a kid's arm. He sat her down on the little bench at the back of the landing platform and took out his comlink to call for transport.

"No, I'm going back in," said Etain.

"Only if Vau calls us back."

"Kal ..."

"Only if he really needs you. Okay?"

They were still waiting for Ordo to collect them when Etain flinched and then looked back at the lobby doors.

They opened and Vau wandered out, rubbing his eyes. There was a distinctive tang of ozone clinging to him, like a discharged blaster.

[...]

Skirata sniffed the ozonic scent again and switched to Mando 'a, although he was sure Etain had flinched because she had sensed what had happened.

[...]

Orjul would be dead sooner or later anyway. No prisoners: not on this run. It was amazing how many people overlooked the inevitable while hoping for a way out.

Etain said nothing. She almost bolted for the speeder when Ordo settled it down on the platform. Skirata settled beside her. She simply seemed subdued.

Etain felt really bad after this scene to the point she even started questioning her view of Jedi and the Dark Side (“She vomited until she was convulsed by dry heaves. Then she filled the basin with cold water and plunged her head into it. When she straightened up and her vision cleared, she looked into a face she recognized. But it wasn't hers: it was the hard, long face of Walon Vau. Everything I've been taught is wrong.)

Kal spared her a great deal of worse guilt if she stayed with Vau and actually saw the mandalorian brutality but important is this: Etain wanted to finish the assigned job and Kal did not allow that. He decided when to pull her out and let Vau step in, to do the dirty work.

Vau’s jab at Skirata for being soft is nothing new. Surprisingly when he and Etain were hunting for the run away terrorist that managed got past Skirata & commandos “cleaning” the enemy warehouse, Vau also was ready to spare Etain some potentially nasty action:

Mird shot past her. She could feel the disturbance in the Force, and their respective instincts took them both to the 134th floor. Mird snuffled along the passage and came to a halt outside an apartment door, settled on its haunches, and stared intently at the door panel.

Vau put a restraining hand on her arm. "I know a Mandalorian regards a female warrior as his equal, my dear, but I feel I should offer to do this job myself."

"I'll do it," she said. She had to.

Vau disrupted the lock. The strill ran into the hallway, almost flat to the floor, and Etain followed it, drawing both lightsabers.

It occurred to her that she might have stumbled upon a family here, and then been presented with a dilemma: a Jedi with two drawn lightsabers, a room full of witnesses, and a cowering terrorist. What would I do? What will I do? But she sensed that would not be the case. It was just another fear of how far she might be prepared to go.

Vau was willing to do the dirty job himself (including the possibility of eliminating unwanted witnesses?) and offered Etain a way out of this situation that could force her going against her Jedi principles. The same as the last time, Etain felt she should finish the job by herself but in contrast to Skirata, Walon accepted her choice and in result, did not sheltered her from facing the responsibility of her action. She didn’t feel that much guilty for eliminating the terrorist with may means the last experienced hardened her (or just the narrative did not focus much on the afterwards).

Of course, killing a person you consider a terrorist in action is a vasty different experience that being part of process meant to break imprisoned person’s resolution and spirit, but I think these two parallel scenes speaks a lot about Skirata and Vau, two hardened Mandalorian veterans who were willing to spare a young Jedi some crushing feel of guilt but who also had a different approach to making the decision for Etain, who tried very hard to prove herself useful and reliable on this black op mission. Once Kal decided it was time to pull Etain from the job, he was the one calling a shot while Walon accepted Etain’s decision (need?) to be the one killing terrorist.

Etain as a Jedi and “not part of their family” yet may be seen as a special case, however the conflict of Kal “I know better so I make hard decisions for others in my care” and Vau “let them make a choice and deal with the consequence for everyone is adult and should be treated like that” seems to be constant part of the whole book series.

A little explanation: not all of Kal's decisions about his family were actually correct, and neither were all of them with negative consequences. It is more about the fact that Kal often makes very important decisions based on what he personally believes is the best solution. Just to be clear.

#star wars #republic commando #etain tur mukan #walon vau #kal skirata #my repcom musing #i think kal did the right thing by not letting etain be part of the interrogation to the end mainly because she tried too hard to be #part od the team to please kal and darman #but he was the one putting her there in the first place so it is questionable matter to judge i guess?#and then vau just let her in into room where they could be innocent people #yeah etain felt in force it was just the terrorist but vau did not know that #and respecting she wanted be on the jobs whatever the consequences could be #relative speaking mando morality is far from ours #but i like that vau respected etain and her decision to finish the job #despite being younger inexperienced jedi #and ironic he talk how skirata was soft but was willing (again) do the dirty job himself #also the talk about clones making the decisions despite what mando sarges may want is pretty often mentioned in regard to kal and vau

23 notes · View notes

timegears-moved · 1 year

Text

thinking about saphira reborn and how she was absolutely in the right about everything she did and got villainized for it

#bwark #the game so obviously wants her to be morally grey but as far as im concerned killing child kidnapping terrorists and abusive doctors is #a good thing #i wish she was one of the characters from reborn that made a cameo in rejuv. she needs to be in an actuallh good game.

8 notes · View notes

wndaswife · 5 months

Text

trying your hardest | wanda maximoff & gn!reader

After moving to America to join the Avengers, Wanda wants to finally make a friend to ease her loneliness. She hopes to become friends with you, and frankly, Wanda idolizes you, but her social skills are... subpar at best.

Word count: 5020

Tags: fluff, humour, some angst, emo wanda being a baby, a little thing, a small very tiny little thing, wanda has a very big crush on you :3 (she doesn't know it yet tho cuz she baby)

A/N: for plot purposes, imagine the avengers didn’t have a catfight after aou

gif credit to (i tried really hard and i CANNOT find who made this gif im sorry)

Wanda Maximoff never really had an education as a child. What education was available in Sokovia was expensive, and despite her father’s late working hours, the twins’ parents could only ever afford their apartment’s rent. The twins were homeschooled as well as their parents could teach them, but after the bombing, they were on their own.

Government-funded schooling helped them for only so long. The schools they were sent to were decaying, and always under dwindling government watch from ongoing airstrikes. The ground shook with explosive tremors as they commuted to school on foot. Wanda and Pietro stayed at an orphanage with hundreds of other children whose parents had passed due to the war — and the Avengers.

Even the government’s debt caught up with what was left of Sokovia. Billions of foreign debt not paid, volume of imports that had increased exponentially since Sokovia worked on rebuilding their country weren’t making enough revenue to pay exporters back. Hundreds of children were booted from government care and onto the streets. The twins attempted to learn on their own, to become informed educated people if they were to ever make a difference in the world, but in Sokovia, even resilience could only get one so far.

Then, Doctor Strucker came along, promising them the extermination of the Avengers, the Western terrorists who had made the already politically-unstable and war-torn country their battleground.

In hopes to cure the world from their terrorist reign, both Wanda and Pietro agreed to Strucker’s experiments, but the education they were given intended for them to become weapons. They knew little of real geography and world history — only HYDRA’s propaganda meant to poison their minds with blind hatred and little else.

When it seemed like you couldn’t be any more different from Wanda as it was, you were also the team’s brain. Stark and Banner specialised in physics and mechanics, but you were the team’s hub for everything else. From computer science to philosophy, you knew everything. No one exceeded you in developing team strategy, setting the stages for mission locations, profiling adversaries, and a dozen of other things Wanda couldn’t have even fathomed when she first met the Avengers in person.

It took Wanda only several moments to realise you weren’t a frontline fighter from your muffled voice in the Avengers’ earpieces to their callouts of your name as frequent, and perhaps even moreso, than their teammates that fought alongside them on the field despite your physical absence.

Y/N — that was your name.

When she had fought the Avengers in Novi Grad, creeping behind the Western superpowers like a heavy looming shadow, Wanda had looked for you. Strategically, it was a rational move. You were the centre of their battle, the heart of their teamwork.

And yet, you were nowhere to be found.

It was only until she had crept up behind Clint Barton when your voice grew clearer than ever before. From the tiny earpiece, you were controlling the field. Perhaps you were just outside, or maybe you were in another country. No matter the distance, Wanda supposed your hold on the battle would be no less effective.

It was the distraction of thinking about you, perhaps — Y/N, the invisible hand — or Barton’s sole intuition, Wanda did not know, nor did she have very much time to think it over, that had made it possible for him to counter her magic.

Then there was pain — immeasurable pain that Wanda hadn’t felt since Strucker’s experiments. It shot through her forehead like a dozen bullets had permeated through her skull. Pietro grounded her, and soon after, the twins targeted Banner.

Despite the rumours about him, the insatiable angry force he was told to be, his mind was the easiest to corrupt. Mental instability and insecurity racked his mind, and he quickly shifted into the green beast the Maximoffs had heard so much about.

Carrying his younger sister, Pietro took the two of them back to Ultron’s base.

They had won that day.

You were all Wanda could think about even while she and Pietro were off missions. You weren’t the Avengers’ frontline defence like Steve Rogers, nor were you the brute strength of the team like Bruce Banner. You held your team in your hands rather than tugging them along by their leashes although you likely could if you wanted to.

Y/N.

Who were you?

On the television after the fight on Novi Grad, Iron Man and Hulk’s brawl in Johannesburg was on the news. The city was in shambles. Pietro said something about the deaths of innocents and the success of his sister’s magic in having the Avengers turn against themselves. But Wanda could only think of what you had thought when Stark and Banner came back to their compound, beaten and sore from none other than their own fists. Wanda assumed the Avengers’ compound — wherever that was — was where you were too.

Wanda wondered how you were dealing with the fight at Johannesburg. What were you saying about her and Pietro?

Later that day, Ultron approached the twins in their bedroom and turned on the television. Despite having been offered separate bedrooms, they insisted on sharing one. Sitting atop their respective beds on the opposite sides of the room, there was someone speaking on the television about Johannesburg across from the interviewer. Their expression was stern but their eyes were solemn. Eyebrows were furrowed together, masking concern and worry; if Wanda knew anything, it was how to read someone.

“Y/N,” the interviewer began, and Wanda’s eyes widened, her head lifting from being held up by her hands, elbows on her pillow as it laid flat atop her crossed legs. “As the Avengers’ strategist, as many put it, how are you planning on handling the devastation that came upon Johannesburg, and the inevitable contact that the Avengers will continue to have with innocent uninvolved civilians?”

The question was packed, and the news station quite clearly had their own sentiments about the Avengers; they were setting you up.

So that was how you looked. Wanda swallowed and felt her chest flutter.

With your upper lip stiff and your posture unbelievably straight, you answered without equivocation. “A common misinformed perspective of any conflict follows the belief that there is any one party entirely responsible for the consequences of violent confrontation, such as the one we witnessed in Johannesburg,” you were saying. With the way her wide eyes were pinned on the television screen, Wanda didn’t notice the way her brother eyed her obviously piqued interest.

“I don’t believe the Avengers are the world’s most honourable superheroes,” you continued. Ultron shifted and Wanda’s head tipped to the side, her interest in you ever growing. “I don’t think anyone is, no matter whose side you’ve taken since the conflict recently — and perhaps even after the invasion of New York’s in 2012.”

That was The Incident, Wanda recalled, when the Avengers terrorised New York. That’s what HYDRA had always told her and Pietro.

“Despite whose side you may be on, as differing as our collective opinions may be, one thing is undeniable — we are all trying to reach a goal of peace for the world, fighting for what we believe is just. There is nothing more powerful than that. Perhaps, it is idealism that serves to be the strength of humanity.”

Ultron laughed morosely. He ridiculed your words, but Wanda wasn’t listening. Whatever you were talking about wasn’t only about Johannesburg. What were you referencing? Who were your words meant for?

Suddenly, your head turned to the camera and Wanda met your eyes. Everything in her froze, her eyes undeviating from your face.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” you spoke. Pietro looked over at Wanda, shock written on every inch of his face, and Ultron’s eyes darted between the twins, almost accusationally as he undoubtedly suspected coercion. Wanda almost expected you to step through the television screen and into her bedroom. “I know what you want.”

The screen was shut off suddenly, the black mirror of the television reflecting Wanda’s astonished expression. She looked away, shutting her eyes as she felt the burning gaze of Ultron on her. But your words reverberated in Wanda’s mind until your every feature and movement of your lips was memorised. Like a promise, like an ode, your words were immortalised within her.

Pietro wasn’t there when you took Wanda in your arms and saved her from a falling Sokovia. He wasn’t there when you laid her down onto the Helicarrier, nor when you took her hand and told her she’d be taken care of. Wanda cried into your chest at the sight of her brother’s body.

What would he have said if he saw the way your arm refused to leave from around Wanda’s shoulders as the two of them trailed behind his body while he was carried into the compound?

Pietro liked you, and would’ve loved to meet you. He referenced your broadcasted interview several times during their fight in Sokovia. He was proud to work with the Avengers, and proud to finally work towards their goal to help people just like them. He wanted to meet you.

Your voice was different from what Wanda remembered from the broadcast, and not because her memory had failed her, but because you were just… different. You were real, and not a picture on a wall or an untouchable reality forever separated from her by a television screen. As she watched you talk and laugh with the other Avengers, you were real.

But if Wanda was honest, she was much too shy to even start a conversation with you. Perhaps it might’ve been easier to approach you if you were an admired character on one of her favourite television shows, but it was exactly what made her admire you so much that also made her feel so shy around you.

Granted, there was much to adjust to now that she lived in America and was now a part of the Avengers, and she did believe herself to be a generally introverted person, but she was especially nervous around you.

Wanda had gotten enough confidence to speak with some team members. Natasha was welcoming and kind. Thor was easy not to feel nervous around, but his energy was far too much for Wanda to handle just yet. Bruce was much more comfortable to chat with, and Wanda found that he was able to be rather nice once he forgave her for her associations with Ultron. Steve was always very kind to Wanda and she felt very safe around him, with Steve always trying to make her feel like part of the team, but she found that they didn’t have very much in common.

And there was Vision, who seemed to have taken a liking to her since even before the final battle against Ultron. He was nice company, but she found her mind preoccupied thinking of you while in his company, wishing that it was you who gave her as much attention as Vision did.

However, she’d been wanting to start a conversation with you since the day she arrived at the compound. Initially, she needed time to herself, and along with Steve, you also made the effort to check in on her and give her your support.

Once she was finally able to gain some footing in adjusting to things while shouldering the weight of her losses, Wanda started becoming more active within the team by joining training sessions. During them, she found herself unable to stop looking at you, watching what you were doing, seeing how you interacted with everyone.

Even as the Avengers’ primary strategist that was almost never in the field, you still made efforts to train and stay connected and involved with the team — and Wanda quickly learned that training was a major part of team building.

You were everything Wanda wished she could be more like; you were the kind of person she had never thought existed in a world she believed was only full of cruelty and injustice until recently.

There was an upcoming party at the Avengers Tower in celebration of the assigned team’s return from a successful mission tracking down a recently-located HYDRA base still hiding out. It was almost any ordinary mission, but it was the first step towards steadily eradicating all of HYDRA’s bases, even after Strucker’s primary base was taken down in Sokovia. Though Steve did also tell Wanda that he felt that Tony also primarily wanted to find any reason to celebrate since it’d been some time.

Wanda hadn’t been to any of the parties yet, and she thought that she’d be able to use this one as a chance to start a conversation with you.

Wasn’t that what people did at parties? Talk?

Truthfully, she didn’t quite know for sure — she’d only ever heard about them through the sitcoms she watched as a child. She knew only of dramatised American portrayals of teenage parties through television.

Whatever it was people actually did at parties, Wanda was certain she would be able to make some effort to talk to you. At least in a social setting, it wouldn’t be strange for her to start a conversation with you.

Wanda made herself look nice and presentable, but not too formal since she didn’t want to overdress or bring too much attention to herself. She wasn’t sure what might happen if her plan to talk with you didn’t end up working, and if she was somehow left with nothing to do, she wanted to be able to slip away without anyone noticing, as if she had never made any attempt to come at all.

While deliberating whether it was better to arrive on time or a bit later once the party had been going on for some time, Wanda realised that at some point too much time had passed and her only option now was to join the party a bit later.

It was only once she arrived at the penthouse floor where the party was being held that Wanda finally realised how terribly thought-out her plan was.

What would happen if she didn’t get to talk with you? What would happen if she did, and she only made a fool of herself? Would it be better, then, to stay as two people who’d never conversed so that she might retain what impression you had of her now? Even if that meant she would never get to talk with you the way she wanted?

It was far too late now to change her mind if she wanted to, as she soon found herself walking further from the elevators and into the party.

The party was rather filled; mostly, they were familiar faces, but it looked like many brought guests, and some guests had brought some of their own. It seemed that Steve was right — atop of celebrating the taking down of the HYDRA base, this was also a social get-together.

She was still relatively at the edges of the room, so she was still going unnoticed. As she walked over to the bar, fidgeting with her fingers as she did, she took the time to look around and try to spot you. She reached the bar, crossing her forearms on top of its counter, and tried to draw the least attention to herself while avoiding eye contact with anyone as her eyes raked through the crowd.

Eventually she caught sight of you also at the bar, but at the very edge with your own drink, your back facing the party. Wanda’s chest fluttered and she felt she nearly stumbled moving one foot in front of the other when she turned to walk towards you.

She worried what would happen if someone suddenly approached you from behind, which would force her to then stop wherever she was standing and pretend she hadn’t just failed at her attempt to come up to you.

The pressing concern aided her greatly, and she was well on her way to coming up to you without hesitation. But once she actually made her way to your side and once you raised your head from your glass and looked at her, Wanda damned herself for being so distracted, now without a plan or even a terribly-planned script to follow in making conversation with you. She didn’t even get to look at what you were wearing.

It would be too strange of her to look you up and down before greeting you, right?

“Hi,” she said, hoping that the small smile she felt on her face was actually there lest she look like an absolute fool.

You turned around in your seat in order to face her, and now having your complete, undivided attention made Wanda’s legs feel like mush. “Hi,” you replied with a friendly smile. “Are you enjoying yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen you at a party yet.”

Wanda swallowed and nervously drew shapes against the bar counter with her fingernails, also trying her best to maintain a steady, friendly smile. “No — this is the first I’ve gone to. I haven’t been here for very long. I decided only a moment ago to come.”

“I’m glad you chose to come,” you told her and suggested for her to take the barstool beside you. Wanda lifted herself onto the seat and sat, facing you.

While you were talking, Wanda took the chance to look at what you were wearing. You looked nice, and Wanda thought you always dressed in a way that put-together, respected people did. She saw you in some likeness to the well-dressed characters on the sitcoms she liked — but, of course, modern.

Maybe she had been taking too long to respond, for you spoke again: “How have you been doing? I know that the move must have been rather hard to go through.”

When she took a moment to respond and found that a response wasn’t immediately escaping her, Wanda felt panic settle in her chest. She knew she should have planned out what to say. She looked like an idiot in front of you. She didn’t know the first thing about socialising or making friends.

“It was hard,” she said finally. “It is hard. Not so bad now. I mean, I’m trying to adjust.”

You nodded in understanding and Wanda felt herself losing your interest; she was sure that your responses’ intentions were now only to remain polite, to keep conversing with her because you knew she didn’t make very much effort to go out.

Then you asked, “Did you want me to order you a drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay — I don’t drink,” Wanda answered, fidgeting with her fingers between her knees. Truthfully, she’s never tried alcohol before. Maybe she should have taken you up on your offer.

“How have you been getting along with the team?”

“I think well. I like everyone. They’ve been very kind to me,” Wanda said. She could hear herself as she spoke to you; she sounded robotic and uninteresting. She thought she might try her hand at being honest about what she was thinking then and there. “But Pietro was always the most social of us both. It is hard to get along with others without him leading the conversation.”

Wanda must have not noticed how solemn she became after she mentioned Pietro, for you reached out and brushed her shoulder with your hand supportively, your fingers squeezing gently around her and lingering for a moment before letting your arm drop.

“I understand,” you sympathised. “You don’t need to pressure yourself into anything — really. I think you fit in here well, and I think you’ve been doing a wonderful job.”

That was the first time anyone truly supported Wanda like that; she was supported by the team as she was grieving the loss of her brother, always being told that she had a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand if she ever wanted someone to talk to.

There was something frustrating about the way the team approached her grief. They had to have anticipated that she would feel a bit better at some point — or at least well enough to get back to team member material.

In the way she was spoken to, Pietro and her struggles with his death were always approached as something she would get over at some point or another — like Pietro was something she was going to get over. She didn’t expect anyone to understand how she felt nor to share in her grievances, but it seemed to her that what she was going through was seen only as a temporary distraction to the rest of the team.

They were kind in giving her their support, but her grief never seemed quite real enough to them.

Granted, she was rather new to the team, so she understood, to some degree, their inability to understand her pain. But it was frustrating, nevertheless.

But with you, it was different.

You didn’t talk about Pietro or her struggles and pain like it was something to get over. You valued her as she was now, and saw her efforts as they were now.

Wanda felt slightly pathetic for how worked up she was getting over your response, be it as brief as it was, but what you said meant quite a lot to her. She felt, for the first time, that she was being spoken to as a real person rather than a ball of temporary grief and pain.

“Thank you… I really appreciate–”

She was cut off when you were called to meet one of Tony’s friends, an expert in software development who had even helped program some of the software you used for communication with the team while they were working on the field. Naturally, they wanted the two of you to meet.

For a moment, Wanda forgot how popular you were amongst your colleagues. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only that you had a certain kindness and authenticity about you that seemed signature to you. But if Wanda admired that about you, and if she idolised you, why wouldn’t anyone else?

You looked at Tony calling you over then at Wanda, who was awkwardly staring at the floor in some pitiful stance of defeat. It made your chest tighten.

This was Wanda’s first time joining in at one of the parties, and you were the first she spoke to. Moreover, there was a kind of sensitivity to her that you knew lay beyond her typical timidity.

Through the conversation with her, you could vaguely see Wanda’s eyes flickering behind your shoulder occasionally, where the floor’s balcony was. From there, one would have a view of the spacious training fields and the expansive forests beyond that separated the base from the main roads.

Tonight, there were clear skies and a rather prominent moon.

Gently, you tapped the back of Wanda’s hand that was resting on the edge of the bar to get her attention, and she raised her head and met your eyes.

“Would you like to step out onto the balcony with me?” you asked. “I’m not quite in the mood to talk with them right now.”

Wanda seemed to perk up and she straightened in her seat. She nodded, and when you stepped off from your barstool, she followed and trailed behind you as you headed for the balcony.

She watched from behind as you led her forward. She played idly with the tips of her fingers as she watched your hair brush against your back, watching the back of your head attentively as if it could tell her anything about you.

Frankly, she felt a bit starstruck.

A certain panic settled within her as you opened the balcony door and ushered Wanda outside and into the warm evening air; she didn’t know what to say now.

She wasn’t certain if she was interesting enough at all to have such intimate conversation with.

What could she say that could possibly be of interest to you?

In spite of the disappointed chatter and lighthearted jabs from the rest of the team in response to your very-obvious aversion to socialising, you closed the balcony door behind you until it clicked shut softly until it was only you and Wanda outside.

“Is it okay that you’re out here with me?” Wanda asked, looking at you as she stepped beside you.

“Of course,” you answered and walked forward until you could stand against the rails of the balcony. “Why not?”

Wanda appreciated how easy it was to talk with you, and how your relationship with the team wasn’t all that you were. “I thought that maybe you might prefer being out there.”

“No — I want to be here.”

Wanda flushed and she looked away, using the excuse of looking out past the training fields as an excuse to hide her face from you.

Making a bold move, Wanda thought that she might be honest with you; she had the real opportunity to make a friend, granted she pulled it off. “Y/N, I really appreciate you being so kind to me.” She garnered some confidence and turned her body and looked at you.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you replied bashfully, and Wanda noticed that you also seemed a bit timid. She thought you were sensitive, and she liked that.

“But also,” Wanda added, taking in a small breath, “I really appreciate your effort in being sympathetic towards Pietro and I, even when we did not deserve it — especially after Johannesburg. Before your interview broadcast, I had never known of such kindness. It seemed you knew more about what Pietro and I wanted before even we did.”

Without a thought behind it, Wanda’s eyes left yours and she added, “I wish he was able to meet you. I am sure he would have felt equally as stunned by you.”

You asked, “I stun you now, do I?”

Surprised by the realisation of what she said aloud, Wanda looked at you and at the sight of your slight smile, also realised that you were teasing her. She flushed and rubbed her warm cheek with the back of her knuckle and distracted herself with two of the party guests walking through the field.

Wanda reminded herself that she came to make a friend — to be friends with you. So she spoke again. “To be honest, yes,” she replied. “I think you are admirable; everyone seems to like you very much, and the kind of bravery and kindness you have is of a kind I did not previously know could ever be sincere.”

She finally said it, and now, Wanda felt anxious about what you might say next.

You shifted and repositioned yourself as you pondered for a moment in consideration. “Well, I have to confess that most if not all of my bravery is rather insincere — I’m truly not as brave as you might think. In fact, I would argue that you’re more brave than I; you’ve experienced so much, undergone so much change, and yet you seem to have more drive than anyone to try your hardest at adjusting and getting back on your feet.”

You thought she was braver than you? Wanda could collapse. She felt her chest flutter.

“But… the kindness,” you said, “is very sincere. I’m glad you see it that way.”

Wanda found herself stepping closer to you, feeling more comfortable in your company and feeling that she wanted to be closer to you physically, to hear your words within a closer vicinity and to see your face free of the soft shadows that the moonlight casted along the curve of your nose and the angle of your cheekbone.

“I think you’re really special,” you told her. “I’m happy that you’re a part of the team. I’m glad you’re here.”

In all her life, there was only one place Wanda ever felt she belonged — with her family. Over some time, what this meant was redefined with the bombing of her home when she was ten and, recently, with the loss of her brother. There was a feeling of loss, an empty pit that burrowed itself within the deepest depths of Wanda’s identity where Pietro and her family and some sort of identity should have been.

It was not only others and her country that she lost, but a part of herself, when all the landmarks she had ever belonged to were stolen from her. But if she could learn anything from still being able to stand where she was and try her best and be brave — like you said — in spite of all her loss and grief, it was that she was not all that she identified herself with.

She still existed, and was still worth something, even without all that was lost.

It would be difficult to even begin finding who she was, exactly, without Pietro and Sokovia and her parents and the truths of herself and the world that HYDRA had always taught her. But she hoped that you might be at least the first step to her self-discovery — you were her first friend.

“Are you alright?” you asked, tipping your head down slightly to try getting a better look at Wanda’s face.

Wanda had lost herself in her thoughts and forgot to reply to you. She must have been silent for a bit of time. “Yes, I’m okay.” She subtly swiped at her cheeks when she realised she was crying — perhaps it was from thinking of her family or of Sokovia, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the moment was that she started crying — as she looked over at the field for a distraction again.

Without another word, you stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Wanda’s shoulders, bringing her against your body in a soft hug. It was wordless and quiet and casual — support and comfort without any conditions.

Every time Wanda believed that she’d fully grasped the world’s capacity for kindness, believed that there couldn't possibly be something more gentle than what you have thus far shown her, you prove her wrong.

She hoped she would never be right.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction #elizabeth olsen

2K notes · View notes

ellemj · 6 months

Text

That Wasn't Quiet: 12 Days of Smut #5

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Fully inspired by this tiktok from @the.stark.internship: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8u74sXe/

Summary: You've been on the run for two months and now that the team has found you, they don't trust you to be alone. Of course, Bucky is one of the ones assigned to keep an eye on you through the night, even though you two have a bit of a history.

Warnings: profanity, teasing, oral sex (female receiving), slight exhibitionism (someone overhears), fingering, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: This one isn't Christmas-themed because truthfully, I forgot about that. It takes place sometime after Captain America: Civil War but before TFATWS, not that that matters much for a one-shot. Also can everyone go look at @littlemiss-yeehaw's fckin INSANE SKETCH OF A HAIR-PULLING BUCKY BARNES BECAUSE I'M STILL NOT OVER IT THANKS.

“How’re we doing, boys?” Nat asks the question immediately upon entering the surveillance room of the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre in Berlin. She’s the last to arrive. She glances around the room, letting her eyes scan over the expressions of Steve, Sam, and Bucky. They all look quite done with the situation at hand.

“She’s not talking.” Steve answers. He’s standing with his back against the far wall, with his arms crossed over his chest and a slightly defeated look on his face. Bucky, however, looks more determined than defeated.

“She’s about to.” Bucky’s tone is so calm and certain that it draws all eyes to him as he pushes himself off of the table he was sitting on. Nat looks at him, her interest clearly piqued, before glancing back over at Steve, wondering if she should be concerned. Steve gives Bucky a hard stare, while Sam turns his head to watch as the man with the metal arm and perpetual bad attitude heads straight for the door. No one makes a move to stop him. Instead, as the door shuts behind Bucky, everyone turns their attention to the surveillance screen that shows you. You’re locked in a secure glass chamber, with your arms and legs immobilized by metal restraints, and even your shoulders are held in place by something similar. The only movements that you’re free to make are within the normal range of motion of your head. Everyone watches as Bucky steps into the secure holding area and stops a few feet away from the glass that separates you and him.

“Bucky Barnes.” You say his name with amusement. You find it amusing that he’s the team’s last resort. First, Steve tried to get through to you. Steve is just too nice, he was never going to get anything out of you. Then, Sam tried to rationalize his way into your mind. Of course, that was about as effective as Steve’s good cop approach. Next, they sent in Agent Everett Ross. You have to admit, Ross was good. If you were going to tell any of them anything, it probably would’ve been him. He has that whole I’m-on-your-side-and-I-can-help-you thing down pat. But you were waiting to see if Bucky would take a shot at you. You wanted to see him. Now he stands before you, wearing one of his signature Henley tees and hiding that irresistible silver arm from you. “You just couldn’t stay away, could you?” You tease.

“I could, but where’s the fun in that?” He plays along, but he’s actively denying himself the pleasure of looking at you. He’s keeping his eyes down on his hands, where he’s using a small cloth to clean the crevices of his metal knuckles. You imagine he probably scuffed it up a bit during the scuffle earlier today. It took the entire GSG 9 team along with Steve, Bucky, and Sam to capture you and bring you here. You never were one to go down without a fight.

“Why don’t you go ahead and ask your questions? Get them out of the way so we can get to the good part of all of this.” Your eyes are tracking every move he makes with his hands. You’re mesmerized but trying your best to focus on your goal.

“And what’s the good part of all of this, sweetheart?” Fuck. He hasn’t called you a name like that since… Images of the last time you were together start flooding through your mind. Your memory is a blur of his hands on your hips, his lips against your ear as you sink down on his cock, and that stupid name rolling off of his tongue: sweetheart. As you’re lost in thought, Bucky’s taking the chance to look at you. You look just like you did the last time he saw you, barely two months ago. The only thing that’s different about your appearance now is the bruise over your left eye and the cut over your cheekbone. He finds himself wanting to severely injure whichever GSG 9 agent it was that laid hands on you hard enough to cause even those minor wounds, but he can’t think about that right now. He needs answers.

“The good part will be the moment you realize you still need me, in about three minutes, give or take a few.” You say smugly, tilting your head to one side since it’s really the only move you can currently make. Bucky tsks, tucking the small cloth in the back pocket of his dark jeans before looking you dead in the eyes.

“Why are you in Berlin?” He asks plainly. Wow, right to business then. You expected him to at least question what you meant when you said that he still needed you.

“I needed to speak with an inmate at the Berlin Correctional Facility.” You answer honestly. He’s already gotten more info out of you than anyone else has today, but that’s all part of your plan.

“Zemo.” Bucky says coolly. You nod slowly, awaiting Bucky’s next question. “What information does Zemo have that you’re interested in?”

“He knows someone that has the ability to reverse the effects of the super soldier serum.”

Your words send a blanket of silence throughout the surveillance room, as well as sending a new wave of realization rushing through Bucky’s mind. This is why you disappeared two months ago. All of those times you talked about wishing you’d never been injected with the serum, all of those hours that Bucky knew you spent researching and experimenting on your own blood samples looking for a way to reverse the effects, Bucky should’ve known. He should’ve known the day you disappeared from New York that you were simply continuing your efforts to get yourself back to normal. But, he never put two and two together. Instead, he believed it when he was told that you’d been compromised, that you’d gone dark and that the serum had likely brought the worst parts of you into the limelight. All of this time, everyone assumed you’d been working against SHIELD and the Avengers as a rogue agent. They were all dead wrong.

“This is the part where you realize you need me.” You say with a smirk. “You need me because I’m the only one that’s ever wanted to reverse the effects of this serum, I’m the only one with the research and the leads that I have now. There are other super soldiers out there besides the three of us in here, and a lot of them do way more harm than good. If I can get to this guy that Zemo knows, we’ll have a chance at righting a few wrongs.”

“Why should we trust you now? You’ve been gone for two months and you’ve left a trail of dead bodies and destruction everywhere that you’ve been.” Bucky’s eyes are narrowed at you now, analyzing every face you make and every word that leaves your lips.

“I said you needed me. I didn’t say you had to trust me.”

---

It’s a long three hours later when you’re finally set free from the uncomfortable glass chamber. Agent Ross insisted they keep you in magnetic handcuffs, though you think it’s more for his peace of mind than anything, because with a little effort and determination you think you could pretty easily get out of them. You sit in the backseat of a car with Steve on your left and Bucky on your right, his cold metal arm pressing against your side due to the lack of space the two giant men leave you. Agent Ross is driving while Nat sits in the passenger seat. Sam chose to fly ahead and scope out the safehouse you’re being taken to for the night. Since you’re still not trusted, they’ll be leaving you, Steve, and Bucky there overnight. They figured you wouldn’t be able to fight two super soldiers on your own, and even if you did manage to take them both down, there wouldn’t be anyone else around for you to possibly severely injure or leave dead on your way out.

You fight the urge to be an annoying little shit for the duration of the car ride, and instead remain silent. You can be an annoying little shit once you’re locked in the safehouse for the night. The plan is to head over to the Berlin Correctional Facility first thing in the morning to meet with Zemo and find out what he knows. Until then, you’re going to be kept under the watchful eyes of Steve and Bucky. Steve isn’t feeling great about the plan at all. He’s the only one that knows you and Bucky have a bit of a past. He doesn’t even know what exactly that past is, but he’s always been able to sense the tension between you two. He sees the way Bucky looks at you like he’s both angry that you’d leave and angry that you didn’t invite him to run away with you. It almost makes him wonder if having Bucky here with you tonight is going to be more trouble than it’s worth. Maybe they should’ve had Nat stay instead.

---

The safehouse is small as shit. There are exactly two bedrooms, not a single window in the whole place, and even the couch in the living room is only a two-seater. You’ve decided Berlin sucks. You had to fight Steve and Bucky just to be allowed to have a shower, with the two men only giving in if you agreed to leave the door open while they sat out of sight in the living room.

As you’re in the shower, rinsing the soapy suds off of your skin, Bucky’s sitting next to Steve on the couch, actively trying not to think about how naked you are just down the hallway. He can’t seem to shake a specific memory that’s playing behind his eyelids every time he blinks. He had your front pressed up against one of the gym shower walls, fucking into you so slowly and silently that no one ever would’ve realized you were about to cum on his cock for the second time that day. God, you were always so pliant for him, so ready for his touch at any given time. He has to wonder if you’d still be that way after two months without him. Have you thought about him while you’ve been away?

“Maybe you should go check on her.” Steve says to Bucky, tilting his head in the direction of the open bathroom door. You’ve been in there for almost twenty minutes now, when they originally gave you a ten-minute limit. There isn’t any way you could possibly escape through the bathroom walls, but they still don’t trust you to be alone and out of their sight for that long.

“Why me?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow at Steve.

“You know why.” Steve chuckles, hinting to Bucky that he knows there’s been something between you and him. Bucky shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stands up and treks down the short hallway. You can hear his footsteps before he ever has a chance to say anything, and you quickly cut the running water off.

“You’re really taking your time in here.” Bucky points out, stopping right outside of the bathroom door. He can see the reflection of the shower curtain in the bathroom mirror from where he’s standing. He only has a second to notice the way your towel is folded up on the bathroom sink, a good two steps away from the shower, before you pull the curtain open confidently. His eyes freeze on your naked reflection in the fogged up mirror and all of the blood in his veins reroutes straight to his cock. “What the hell are you doing?” He asks harshly, quickly stepping into the bathroom and throwing the door shut behind him. He sure as hell isn’t going to let Steve see you like this.

“You said I had to leave the door open, I was just following orders. I can’t reach my towel from here.” You say innocently, pushing out your bottom lip in a fake pout. Bucky isn’t even facing you, he’s standing facing the bathroom sink and mirror, with his eyes shut tightly.

“You’re so damn manipulative.” Bucky spits the words out through clenched teeth before grasping the towel in his right hand and tossing it over his shoulder to you. You towel yourself dry quickly before wrapping it around your figure and stepping out of the shower. The bathroom is so small that you have no choice other than to brush against Bucky’s back as you pull the curtain closed. He tenses up as soon as he feels how close you are to him.

“Tell me something, Bucky.” You whisper. You let your fingers trail down his back lightly, surprised that he hasn’t turned around and shoved you away yet. “You’ve missed me, haven’t you?”

“Get dressed.” He says flatly, opening his eyes for a moment to verify that your clothes are still sitting on the other side of the bathroom sink.

“No.” Your answer is defiant. You let your hand fall away from his back but you keep your eyes focused on his frame, on the way his shoulders are moving up and down with each heavy breath he takes. He’s trying to keep himself calm and composed. Knowing how easy it was to get him riled up back when the two of you messed around only makes this whole situation laughable. He already wants to fuck, and you’ve barely done anything.

“Why are you making this so hard?” He questions, boldly turning around to face you in your towel-clad state.

“What’s so hard?” The teasing lilt in your tone is driving him insane. He watches as you stand three inches in front of him, letting your eyes travel down his body to land right over his hard-on. His jeans can only do so much to hide it. “Oh, I see.” You laugh lightly, noting his boner. Bucky feels enraged. Enraged that you left two months ago, enraged that you never once tried to reach out to him or ask him for help with your little side mission, and especially enraged that you’re standing here right now teasing him, like you haven’t also been reliving your past sexual trysts with him. You want him as much as he wants you right now, and he can prove it. He will prove it.

In one swift move, Bucky grabs your waist and spins you to the side, pinning your back against the bathroom door before sliding down to his knees in front of you. In another second, he’s tugging on the bottom of your towel, forcing it to unwrap from your figure and fall to the floor around your feet. When he has you fully naked for him, he looks up at you with his lust-blown eyes.

“You’re going to be quiet for me.” There’s no hint of a question in his voice, and you can only nod in response. “Good girl.”

Bucky nudges your knees apart with his hand before hitching your left leg up and over his shoulder. Shit. Is he really going to eat you out right here, with his best friend only a few feet away from the thin wooden door that your back is pressed against right now? You look down as Bucky leans forward and captures your clit in his mouth, licking and sucking on it with enough passion to make your head spin. Your back arches off of the door as your fingers card through his hair, pulling his face impossibly closer to your cunt. Any other time, Bucky probably would’ve pulled back and told you to be patient. But this time, he’s feeling every bit as impatient as you. So, he continues to work on your clit, circling the tip of his tongue around it just like he used to do when he wanted to drive you crazy in bed. His metal hand is gripping your ass while his flesh hand moves to join his mouth between your legs. He teases your entrance with a fingertip for a moment, and just as you’re about to beg for more, he plunges it into you up to the first joint. The moan that sneaks past your lips is a good bit louder than you expected it to be and Bucky pulls back abruptly, giving you a stern look and squeezing your ass with his metal hand.

“What did I say?”

“I’ll be quiet.” You promise, in a hushed tone. Bucky eyes you coldly for a second before nodding and putting his mouth right back where it belongs. He steals a look up at you to find you covering your mouth with one hand while the other hand is firmly rooted in his hair. You’re doing so fucking good for him. As a reward, he adds a second finger inside of you, alternating between thrusting them in as deep as they can go and then curling them against your walls.

What you don’t expect is a third finger. When he adds a third finger inside of you, the stretch is a little too much to bear and you moan out louder than before. You expect him to stop, you expect him to pull back and tell you to shut the fuck up, but no. Even though Steve is now fully aware of what’s going on behind the closed bathroom door, Bucky doesn’t stop. Your moan and the fact that Steve knows you’re getting off right now spurs Bucky on so much so that he starts sucking on your clit like it’ll take him right back to two months ago when everything was perfect. He increases the pace of his fingers fucking in and out of your tight, wet cunt, absolutely loving the sounds your body is making. He’s committing those sounds to memory right there on the bathroom floor. A few seconds later, he feels the way your hips are bucking against his face and the way the walls of your pussy are repeatedly clenching around his fingers and he knows.

“Bucky, I’m gonna cum.” You moan out. You’ve stopped caring that Steve can probably hear every bit of what’s happening right now. All you care about is your looming orgasm that’s being held hostage by the man between your legs. Bucky continues doing exactly what he’s doing, working your cunt just right until you finally tip over the edge, falling into perfect bliss over his mouth and fingers. He continues curling his fingers softly inside you and pressing his tongue against your clit as you lightly grind against it. When you finally still above him, he pulls back and sucks the taste of you off of his fingers.

“That wasn’t quiet.” Bucky laughs, looking up at you with a mischievous smile painted across his features.

“No, it wasn’t.” Steve’s slightly unsettled voice echoes from the living room down the hall.

Oops.

TAG LIST:

@charmedbysarge @gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @claireelizabeth85 @fandomsfeminismandme @sunnyhummingbee @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @crist1216 @twlkdead

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #12 days of smut

1K notes · View notes

mariacallous · 8 months

Text

“Did they really decapitate babies?” my 14-year-old daughter asked me yesterday. She was pointing to a text message on her phone from a friend. “They’re saying they found Jewish babies killed, some burnt, some decapitated.” And I froze. Not because I didn’t know what to say—though in truth I didn’t know what to say—but because for a moment I forgot what century I was in. All of the assumptions I had made as a Jewish father, even one who had grown up, as I did, with the Holocaust just a few decades past, were suddenly no longer relevant. Had I adequately prepared her for the reality of Jewish death, what every shtetl child for centuries would have known intimately? Later in the day, she asked if, for safety’s sake, she should take off the necklace she loves that her grandparents had given her and that has her name written out in Hebrew script.

The attack by Hamas on Israeli civilians last Saturday broke something in me. I had always resisted victimhood. It felt abhorrent, self-pitying to me in a world that seemed far away from the Inquisition and Babi Yar—especially in the United States, where I live and where polls repeatedly tell me that Jews are more beloved than any other religious group. I wasn’t blind to anti-Semitism and the ways it had recently become deadlier, or to the existential dread that my family in Israel felt every time terrorists blew up a bus or café—it’s a story whose sorrows have punctuated my entire life. But I refused to embrace that ironically comforting mantra, “They will always want to kill us.” I hated what this tacitly expressed, that if they always want to kill us, then we owe them, the world, nothing. I deplore the occupation for both the misery it has inflicted on generations of Palestinians and the way it corrodes Israeli society; when settlers in the West Bank have been attacked, it has pained me, but I have also felt anger that they are even there. In short, I wasn’t locked into the worldview of my survivor grandparents and I felt superior for it.

But something in me did break. As I was driving on Tuesday, I heard a long interview on the BBC with Shir Golan, a 22-year-old woman who had survived the attack at the music festival where more than 250 people were killed, her voice sounding just like one of my young Israeli cousins. She described, barely able to catch her breath, how the shooting had started and how she’d begun to run. She’d found a wooded area and tried to hide. “I got really into the ground,” she said. “I put the bushes on me.” Covered with dirt and leaves, she’d waited. A group of terrorists had shown up and called for anyone hiding to come out. From her spot under the earth, she’d seen three young people, whom she called “children,” emerge. “I didn’t go out because I was scared. But there were three children next to me who got out. And then they shot them. One after one after one. And they fell down, and that I saw. I saw the children fall down. And all that I did was pray. I prayed to my god to save me.”

I pulled my car over because my own hands were shaking as I listened. She then described waiting, hidden in the dirt under bushes for hours, until she saw the terrorists begin to light the forest on fire. “I didn’t know what to do. Because if I’m staying there, I’m just burnt to death. But if I go out they are going to kill me.” She crawled over to where she saw dead bodies and lay on top of them, but the heat soon approached, so she found more bushes to hide in until she could run again. Burnt bodies were everywhere, and Shir looked for her friends but couldn’t find them, couldn’t even see the faces of those killed because they were so badly burned. “I felt like I was in hell.” She finally escaped in a car.

Her story flung me back to my grandparents’ stories. My grandmother hid in a hole for a year in the Polish countryside, also under dirt, also scared. My grandfather spent months in Majdanek, a death camp, and saw bodies pile up in exactly this way. Stories are still emerging of families burnt alive, of children forced to watch their parents killed before their eyes, of bodies desecrated. How was this taking place last Saturday?

But these stories aren’t what broke me. What did was the distance between what was happening in my head and what was happening outside of it. The people on “my side” are supposed to care about human suffering, whether it’s in the detention camps of Xinjiang or in Darfur. They are supposed to recognize the common humanity of people in need, that a child in distress is first a child in distress regardless of country or background. But I quickly saw that many of those on the left who I thought shared these values with me could see what had happened only through established categories of colonized and colonizer, evil Israeli and righteous Palestinian—templates made of concrete. The break was caused by this enormous disconnect. I was in a world of Jewish suffering that they couldn’t see because Jewish suffering simply didn’t fit anywhere for them.

The callousness was expressed in so many ways. There were those tweets that did not hide their disregard for Jewish life—“what did y’all think decolonization meant? vibes? papers? essays? Losers”—or the one that described the rampage as a “glorious thing to wake up to.” There was the statement by more than two dozen Harvard student groups asserting, in those first hours in which we saw children and women and old people massacred, that “the Israeli regime” was “entirely responsible for all unfolding violence.” And then there were the less explicit posts that nevertheless made clear through pseudo-intellectual word salads that Israel got what it deserved: “a near-century’s pulverized overtures toward ethnic realization, of groping for a medium of existential latitude—these things culminate in drastic actions in need of no apologia.” I hate to extrapolate from social media—it is a place that twists every utterance into a performance for others. But I also felt this callousness in the real world, in a Times Square celebratory protest promoted by the New York City chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America, at which one speaker talked of supporting Palestinians using “any means necessary” to retake the land “from the river to the sea,” as a number of placards declared. There were silences as well. Institutions that had rushed to condemn the murder of George Floyd or Russia for attacking Ukraine were apparently confounded. I watched my phone to see whether friends would write to find out if my family was okay—and a few did, with genuine and thoughtful concern, but many did not.

I’m still trying to understand this feeling of abandonment. Is my own naivete to blame? Did I tip too far over into the side of universalism and forget the particularistic concerns to which I should have been attuned—the precarious state of my own tribe? Even as I write this, I don’t really want to believe that that’s true. If I can fault myself clearly for something, though, it’s not recognizing that the same ideological hardening I’d seen on the right in the past few years, the blind allegiances and contorted narratives even when reality was staring people in the face, has also happened, to a greater degree than I’d imagined, on the left, among the people whom I think of as my own. They couldn’t recognize a moral abomination when it was staring them in the face. They were so set in their categories that they couldn’t make a distinction between the Palestinian people and a genocidal cult that claimed to speak in that people’s name. And they couldn’t acknowledge hundreds and hundreds of senseless deaths because the people who were killed were Israelis and therefore the enemy.

As the days go on, the horrific details of what happened—those babies—seem to be registering more fully, if not on the ideological left, then at least among sensible liberals. But somehow I can’t shake the feeling of aloneness. Does it take murdered babies for you to recognize our humanity? I find myself thinking—a thought that feels alien to my own mind but also like the truth. Perhaps this is the Jewish condition, bracketed off for many decades and finally pulling me in.

When news broke of the Kishinev pogrom in 1903 that took 49 lives (compare that with the 1,200 we now know were killed on Saturday), it caused a sensation throughout the world. “Babes were literally torn to pieces by the frenzied and bloodthirsty mob,” The New York Times reported. “The local police made no attempt to check the reign of terror. At sunset the streets were piled with corpses and wounded. Those who could make their escape fled in terror, and the city is now practically deserted of Jews.” In response to that massacre, the emigration of hundreds of thousands of Eastern European Jews to the United States began in earnest; the call of Zionism as a solution also sounded clearly and widely for the first time.

In his famous poem about the massacre, “In the City of Slaughter,” the Hebrew writer Haim Naḥman Bialik lamented, even more than the death, the sense of helplessness (“The open mouths of such wounds, that no mending / Shall ever mend, nor healing ever heal”), the men who watched in terror from their hiding places while women were raped and blood was spilled. I can’t say I know what will happen now that this helplessness has returned—if I’m honest, I also fear that Israel’s retaliation will go too far, that acting out of a place of victimhood, as right as it may feel, will cause the country to lose its mind. Innocent lives in Gaza have been and will be destroyed as a result, and competing victimhood is obviously not the way out of the conflict; it’s the reason that it is hopelessly stuck. But in this moment, before the destruction of Gaza grabs my attention and concern alongside fear for my relatives who have been called up to the army, I don’t want to forget how alone I felt as a Jew these past few days. I have a persistent, uncomfortable need now to have my people’s suffering be felt and seen. Otherwise, history is just an endless repetition. And that’s an additional tragedy that seems too much to bear.

1K notes · View notes

multific · 10 months

Text

Pink Flags

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Warnings: smut, unplanned pregnancy, angst

Summary: After a night of passion, you face Simon with the consequences, however, his reaction is far worse than you could have ever imagined.

You were always good at what you were doing.

Comically good. The way to take down terrorists was like a dance. A melody you create by murdering them.

What you weren't so good at were feelings. Especially your own.

No matter how tangled up you got with them, you always found a way out.

You promised you won't become attached to anyone. Attachments are dangerous.

But you did find yourself entangled with your LT.

Which wasn't good.

You knew it was unprofessional but the moment his lips hit that sensitive spot on your neck, you lost all sense and only came back to it the next morning.

When once again, you lost all senses when you felt his bulge rub against your ass. It was all a mess.

You should have seen the red flags. But you chose to ignore them all.

Simon Riley for one was a huge red flag.

The entire man was a secret and you loved it. It was so exciting and interesting for you.

You knew Simon wasn't the relationship type of guy so you knew what to expect. You were ready for rejection at any given time.

But of course, it never came.

Not once did he reject anything you did, ask or told him to do.

Not even on the battlefield.

Simon knew you were talented so why would he question it? But now, now he had a question, a question he was afraid to get an answer to.

"What did you just say?"

"I'm pregnant."

Simon saw many terrible things, and done some himself, but that one word was the worst he had ever experienced.

A word that will change both of your lives and he wasn't ready for that. He was dead. Only a ghost, an idea, a machine.

Not a father.

"Get rid of it." he would reply in his panic. He honestly didn't even realize he said it out loud if it wasn't for the hurt in your eyes, he would have believed he didn't.

But he did. And it hurt.

He then turned away and left.

You promised yourself it would be the last time you saw him.

Because now, you finally could see all of his red flags.

All of them came crashing down on you.

But you also knew you won't 'get rid of it'. No, you will keep this baby.

And after getting a note from your doctor, you retired from the army, focusing on the baby and yourself instead.

Fuck Simon and his attitude.

Fuck him for not stepping up when you needed him.

Fuck him.

You will do better without him.

---

Living in a small apartment in a quiet place in London might have been the obvious choice.

But it was your choice.

You wanted to prove that you can provide for your child.

Thankfully you were smart enough to not spend the money you earned while in the army.

So, you had enough money for now.

Not for very long, but you could still get a little nursery done in your home.

You went to all of your appointments with that doctor.

Hearing the heart of your baby beating was like magic.

And then the announcement of the century, you were having a little girl.

A beautiful little girl who is yours.

Your daughter.

You needed many days to let that sink it.

Being pregnant and alone was a nightmare.

No one was there to rub your feet or to help with your cravings.

You told yourself you don't need anyone anyway… After all, who would want a woman who is pregnant with someone else's child?

There might be a couple men out there but you didn't need them.

You just needed you and your baby.

And that was enough.

When the time finally came, you could only stare at her, sleeping in her bed next to you in the hospital.

You swore to protect her from everything.

You swore to be enough for her.

You swore to love her forever.

For she was the love of your life.

Your little bundle of joy.

You gave her a name, a name you always wanted to have yourself, so you let her have it instead.

A healthy little girl.

Your daughter, Emily.

Bringing her home was possibly as challenging as it was magical.

You ordered some food for yourself before putting her to sleep.

You tried your best to remember everything the doctor and the nurses told and taught you.

There was a knock on your door, you stood up and walked to get your food.

But of course, instead of your food, a man stood in your doorway.

Simon.

"You got to be fucking with me." you said as he looked at you.

"Nice to see you too, Lass."

"What do you want?"

"I believe you have something of mine. Half, mine."

"Go fuck yourself Simon. This is all you can say? 11 months and this is the best you can do. Leave."

And you slammed the door into his face.

When your food finally arrive you did catch a glimpse of him still waiting in the hallway. But you didn't care.

Who did he think he was?

Half of his?

Fuck him.

How dare he?

---

From that day on, he was everywhere.

In the grocery store, in the park, in the restaurants. Wherever you and Emily went, Simon followed.

One day, you were sitting on a bench, Emily sleeping in her stroller when he suddenly sat down next to you.

"I'm sorry."

"That's a better start." you said, not looking at him.

"I was a complete idiot when I told you to…" he looked at the stroller as you watched him, you understood what he meant. "I have been watching you for a while now. I found you when you were five months along."

"So, you have been watching me for 6 months now?"

"About that much, yes. I died the day my family died. I am a ghost, a baby didn't fit into that."

"Then wear a condom." you said with a harsh tone, he knew he deserved it.

"I am not father material. I am a soldier. Having a child is… not for me."

"Why are you here Simon? Are you here to tell me, this time nicely, that you want nothing to do with me or my daughter? Fine, have it your way. Leave, I didn't need you then, I don't need you now."

"You were the best of us. 141 isn't the same without you. Price often said that you will be the end of me. He always joked about you and me… a quiet life, but I don't think he meant it as a joke. You fascinated me always. You are so beautiful and kind."

"Simon-"

"The day you were told you are having a girl, you were so happy. You went to a restaurant and ate so many things, then you went to the ice cream shop. The lady looked at you funny when you asked to only eat the pink ones. I followed you, I watched you."

"Why are you here Simon?"

"Price told me to find you, he told me to make things right, but he only spoke the words I have been meaning to do. I knew I needed you the moment you joined the team. I let you go because of my own doubts and fears. I do not know what I would do if anything happened to you or her."

His words were sincere. His eyes were filled with guilt and regret.

You would be lying if you said you weren't attracted to him. You always were and will be.

"I can't let you in Simon if you are only going to leave us." is all you could say, your voice, barely a whisper.

Simon was about to say something when Emily started to stir and cry.

You grabbed her and put her on your chest, slowly bouncing and calming her down. You looked at Simon whose eyes were glued to your little girl.

"She has your eyes." you said as he looked at you and then back to her. You moved her slightly, making her face him.

"She looks like you." he said. "Beautiful." it was something he wasn't meant to say, you could tell easily. "I don't want to leave, but I have to. It's what's the safest for you two."

"It's not enough. I am not going to just send you photos of her for every anniversary. I'm not going to tell her that her father wants to see her but can't. It will break her and me. Either you have us Simon or not. I'm not doing the tango with you."

"You were always the all-or-nothing type." he chuckled. He was looking at Emily and you could tell it wasn't an easy decision to make. But you couldn't let him have it his way. As if to help your case, Emily reached out her small hand towards Simon, you smiled at her but waited for his reaction.

He lifted his hand and let her touch his fingers.

Simon will never forget the feeling of his daughter's first touch. It was so warm and innocent. Her little fingers played with his much bigger ones.

Simon came with the intention of letting you go. But he couldn't.

When he first saw you, you were radiating.

Your belly was showing as you walked from store to home. Simon should have known it was a done deal after that.

He should have known he will never be able to let go.

"I will make this right." he said as he let Emily wrap her tiny fingers around his thumb.

He couldn't believe just how terrible he was towards you that day. Telling you to 'get rid of it', of his daughter. He will forever regret his words. No matter how much he will do in the future. You offered him a small smile and a simple nod.

You knew he will be able to make things right, the two of you will be able to figure this out.

Simon Riley might be a walking red flag with a tragic past, but when you handed him Emily, his eyes filled with love and suddenly, in the bright daylight those red flags looked more pink to you.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

1K notes · View notes

midnightarcheress · 2 months

Text

Simon has a new assignment.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader 1 | gold rush masterlist.

after years exhausting his body in the military and too many losses to count, Simon decided to retire. goodbye extensive deployments, food and sleep deprivation, constant adrenaline pump in his veins, hours spent washing the blood off of his fingernails. except he didn’t truly retire. life as a civilian again was too strange, too boring. he thrives in following orders and being the best at it. he missed having a purpose, even if it’s far from saving the world.

so, because of that, he agreed on joining a private military company as a contractor. never takes the dirty, mercenary-like jobs though – despite being rusted, his moral compass is still there, so he usually sticks with the security, training, bodyguarding type of work. easy enough to not take a toll on his body, and to not strain his conscience with the worry of ending innocent lives to cover up some bastard’s filth, but demanding enough to keep his mind out of his own life for a while.

the guy on the other side of the line doesn’t tell him much about the new task. bodyguard for an actress, indefinite time, details via e-mail. a few minutes later, the computer screen lights up with the case information and his eyes skim through the text; famous actress, has been receiving threatening letters and who ultimately has a stalker. a seemingly uncapturable one, as the police have not been able to trace them for months. incompetent wankers. in his prime he would locate terrorists with ease; nothing he couldn’t do right now, but his contract was strict – keep her safe and keep to yourself.

he doesn’t recognize the name, but the small picture attached to the message is slightly familiar, maybe from one of the times he spent hours flicking through the channels on the telly while battling a crippling insomnia. his brows knit together when he peers at the set of rules that accompanies the e-mail. no talking, no touching unless extremely necessary, must keep distance at all times.

in the months he’s been working in the company, he never had a job with an actual celebrity – mostly politicians and businesspeople, extremely straightforward and simple to execute, usually for a short period of time. he’s convinced that it will be the longest mission of his life, probably dealing with an entitled rich woman who’s used to having everybody begging at her feet.

dread fills his mind as he watches the trees quickly passing by his window on the car. the drive to the meeting is short enough to contain the rate of the antipathy brewing on his chest, but long enough to make him question accepting the assignment.

he pulls up on the driveway and walks towards a tall, modern building, filled with frantic people walking from side to side. glancing at his phone, he re-reads the details of the reunion; second door on the 23th floor, her manager will be expecting you. his fingers tap on the side of his thigh as the lift raises to the office level, eyes glaring at the mirror in the back of the platform. the image on the glass differs from the one on his past – military buzzcut and skull-printed balaclava replaced by messy blond locks and a neck gaiter, still covering a bit of his face even after all this time. old habits die hard.

the doors pry open right after the number appears on the screen and he walks down the hallway to the office, stopping on his tracks as he notices a feminine voice coming from inside the room. “i’m scared just as much as you, but is this really necessary?” she’s in there too? wasn’t the meeting only with the guy?

“yes, princess, it is necessary. do you want to make the front-page news as a corpse?” another voice can be heard responding, this time, male. must be the manager. “in case you've forgotten, i’m also your friend, and i’m merely concerned about your safety. we cannot let that stunt from last week happen again.” stunt. he recalls part of the information on the file, depicting how she was almost assaulted by a weirdo that followed her on the street; however, the creepy prick was cleared from being the stalker and left the station on bail. great justice system.

“we’ve already increased the security on your house, he was just hired to keep you safe on the outside.” he decides to stop eavesdropping and knocks sharply on the door. “must be him.” the man says, and he listens as footsteps approach the entryway.

“well, hello there. please, come in,” he steps aside, allowing Simon to enter the room. the office is fairly average, leather couch on one corner, portraits on the wall of what he assumes are the man’s clients, but all of the attention goes to the large windows showing a perfect view of the city. “so, i’m Daniel, the great manager as you may know," he smugly speaks, "and of course you already know her.” he gestures to the woman on the armchair.

the woman from the picture. the woman from the late night movie he was absentmindedly watching on a late night. you. you look the same as he'd seen before, but somehow entirely different. the warm sunlight coming through the glass shines on your skin when you stand on your feet, golden flecks twinkling in your irises as you offer him your name and extend a hand to greet him, sweetly mouthing “and you are?”

he shakes your hand with a firm grasp, stirring away the sudden void in his brain and swallowing the lump on his throat that hindered his words. “Ghost.” easy detachment. his gruff voice reverberates in the space as he repeats the orders in his head, the sense of doubt starting to cloud his judgement. keep to yourself. maybe the job won’t be as bad as he thought.

been a bit obsessed with this idea so i decided to write it and see how it goes.

412 notes · View notes

lovifie · 3 months

Text

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 7: Price’s Date

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

W: Price x Reader, inaccuracies around gun-related stuff, use of Sir (like a brat), something with cameras.

Not too far away, at the base, a phone rings inside Price's office. His eyebrow furrows for a second at the unknown ringtone, until he remembers is the burner phone he has with only your number on it, the same case for all the 141 task force. An extra security step he is more than willing to take.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asks, once he picks up the phone, worry clear in his voice.

“Nothing!” You quickly reassure him. “I was just wondering… are you busy tomorrow?”

Price looks at his agenda, it is filled to the brim with meetings and things to do. “I could move some things, why?”

“I thought you would like to go on a date… with me?”

“Are you… are you asking me out on a date, doll?”

You remain silent for a second. “Maybe… Only if you want…”

“I do!” He quickly says before you can step back. “I just thought it would be me asking you out.”

“So do it.”

Price chuckles, the sound travelling through to your ears making you smile. “Do you wanna go on a date with me tomorrow, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” You quickly answer. “I would like it very much, John.”

The sound of his name leaving your mouth travelling straight to his dick. “Sounds like a date then, love. I’ll drop by the house tomorrow morning, I’ll tell you then the time, sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect.” You mutter back. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, love.”

After another beat of silence, the beep beep beep indicates one of you hung up.

Price claps his hands as if his football team just scored a goal before quickly collecting himself and getting back to work wanting to get done as much as possible.

On the other side of the line, Johnny keeps teasing you about how you looked like a teenager asking his crush out while Simon laughs at the both of you.

“You are just teasing me ‘cause you are jealous you were not the first one.” You say sticking your tongue to him as you sit on Simon’s lap like a kid hiding behind his parent.

Johnny looks at you offended while Simon laughs at him before adding. “She got you there, mate”

“Good morning, lovie.” Price says smiling when you open the door for him in the morning, stepping aside to let him in. “Good morning, John. I’m still having breakfast, want to join me?” You ask smiling.

“I’ll join you to the end of the world, love. Breakfast is just a plus.” He says dropping a kiss to your forehead as he walks in. “I brought you this.” He adds, raising his hand and letting you see the bag he is holding.

“And what is that?” You ask taking the bag from his hand when he lends it to you. You leave it on the table as you fill a second cup with coffee for him, both of you sitting down before you take the bag again to check what's inside. “Oh! This is mine!” You say surprised.

Price smiles back at your surprised expression and says: “We went back to your apartment, picked up everything that we left the last time. It is mostly bathroom stuff, and some clothes we were able to find.”

“Aw, John… Thank you, really.” You say looking through your stuff, until you come across an unfamiliar red colour. “John?”

“Yes, doll?”

“How many women being followed by terrorists do you know?

“Hm, a couple actually. You are the only one I'm hiding, though.”

“Johnathan!” You exclaim slapping his arms when he laughs. He grabs your hands, kissing your knuckles and keeps your hand on his.

“Keep saying my name and we will not be leaving the house today, love.” He says looking at your eyes with a smirk on his face.

“Another chance, John. How many?” You ask, raising a finger keeping the rest interlocked with his, raising an eyebrow.

“Only you, love. I promise.” He says smiling softly, no teasing left in his voice. “I bought you that dress, for tonight, you silly girl. You could get me on my knees in your pyjama, but I assumed you would rather wear something fancier.”

“Oh.” You say a little bit embarrassed, but accepting the compliment. “Okay.”

He chuckles softly at you, drinking his coffee and standing up, he cups your face with both his hands before kissing your lips harshly before pulling away. “I'll pick you up at seven, love. Be ready by then.”

You nod quickly, he gives you one more kiss and he says goodbye before heading out to work.

You basically start getting ready after lunch, you don't have much to do anyway. So you run yourself a bath, taking your time, not a rush in you.

It makes you think about how your life was just a couple of days ago, you didn't even have a bathtub and now? Two baths in two days!

The dress Price brought you fits you like a glove, and you make a mental note to ask about it. Almost your whole back is exposed, the dress almost reaching the floor with the heels on. You choose a red lipstick that luckily matches the red colour of the dress and decide to do your hair up so it doesn't cover your back.

You look at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom, happy with the result. And if there was any bit of self-doubt left in you, it quickly dissipates the moment you walk into the living room where the other three men are currently at. Laughing when their mouth falls open like in the cartoons.

“Fuckin' hell, bonnie.” Johnny groans looking at you.

“Alright, is she ready?” Price asks entering the flat, a small bouquet of roses in his hand and a suit that could be tailored by how well it fits him. You walk up to him smiling, bending down a bit to smell the flower. “For me?” You ask softly.

He nods, unable to find words to answer and helps you take the bouquet taking care that you won't touch any thorn. Once on your hands, you walk to the kitchen to put them in water. Price looks at you up and down when he sees the dress flow with every movement of your hips. He definitely needs to send a good bottle of wine to Laswell for her help choosing the dress.

“Ready?” You ask looking at him once you are back and you find him with his eyes still staring at where they were before you entered the kitchen. He quickly looks up at your face and smiles. “And waiting, love. Let's go.” He finally says, lending you his arm which you gladly grab. He turns back to the three massive scary military men in your living room who look like kids who have gotten their desert stolen. “Good night, boys. Be nice, we'll see you tomorrow.” You chuckle blowing them a kiss and getting out first, what you don't see behind your back is the way Price raises his hand with his middle finger out and a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Fuckin' bastard” Soap chuckles once the door closes.

Once on the street, you take a deep breath, savouring finally being out of the house. And Price must take notice because when both of you are sitting in the car (he opened the door for you, of course), he pulls your window down slightly letting the night air hit you.

“I’m definitely making all of you take me out more often.” You say looking out the window.

“And we will do it gladly, love.” He says resting a hand on your thigh. “You just gotta ask.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” You say smiling resting your hand on top of his.

The street air flows through the open window taking with it the last worries on your mind, it is easy being with him. With the four of them to be honest.

“Are you hungry, love?” He asks, moving his hand from your thigh to the gearstick to switch gears as he gets closer to the restaurant.

“I'm starving, Captain.” You say smiling when he side eyes after you talk. Chuckling softly at the double meaning of your words. Once the car is parked, he exits the car to open your door, holding his hand out for you.

The restaurant must be the fanciest you have ever set foot inside of, as soon as you enter a waiter comes to walk the both of you to your table. The other guests are calmly eating at their table, the decorations of the plans and folding screens making it feel like a separate room for each couple.

Price pulls your chair back to allow you to sit and then push you closer to the table. A waiter comes after a while to take note, and not much later comes back with a bottle of wine. He pours the glasses and Price and you are left alone.

“Can I ask you something, John?” You ask, resting your hand on top of his, caressing it with your fingertips. He quickly nods, and you add: “How… how did the relationship between the four of you work?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It's a bit blurry how it started to be completely honest… As a team we expend so much time together, we must trust each other with our lives, and sometimes these things just… happen?” He ask, just to check if you understand. He continues when you nod. “It was not the four of us at first, Soap and Simon were the closest and as far as I know, the ones who did it first. Then Gaz and I were sent on a mission together for a couple of months and it simply happened. Then Gaz and Soap talked about it, they got drunk and did it too. After that, we realised we were not hurting anybody so… we continued.”

“And now there is me…” You add, looking down at his hand. There is an underlying question, about how exactly do you fit in a relationship that seems to have been built around a web of trust and years of knowing each other. And now you appear, and in 48 hours, you are in the centre of it all.

“And now there is you.” Price answers, interlacing his fingers with yours. “And we are really happy you are, you know that right?” He asks, and he squeezes your hand when you don't answer him. “Look at me, birdie.”

“I'm sorry.” You mutter looking up at him. “I'm sorry, I know we talked about it, but I can't help it, I'm sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey, easy now, love. Don't apologise.” He says, extending his arm easily reaching the other side of the table to cup your face. “What is it, love?”

“It's just… you are like… bigger than the CIA.” You whisper, unsure of how much you can say. “And it's not only like, the name. The four of you are just… so big, and cool, and handsome, and nice, and kind, and strong, and you can fight, and people respect all of you… and me… I'm a fucking loser.”

“Now, that's where I'm going to stop you. Because I'm not letting you shit talk about my girl, birdie.” He says, bopping your nose with his finger as he does. “You are not a loser. You are breathtaking, you have a job, you have a house, you have a car, you are smart, you are kind and for god's sake, birdie, you have an entire SAS task force begging you to even look at them. Take pride in that, love.”

“But that's not the same, Price. What if… what if my apartment didn't have the hiding spot on top of the closet?” You ask, and you can see his expression change, disliking to even think of the possibilities. “I would have been at their mercy so fucking easy, you remember how easy it was for Soap and Ghost to pick me up and handcuff me to Gaz. They'll raise their voice at me a bit too much and they'll have me at my knees begging for forgiveness because that's the only thing I know how to do. Fucking useless…”

“And if you knew how to fight back?” He asks, looking directly at your eyes. “Would it help you feel better?”

“I don't want to be even a bigger burden, Price.” You sigh, unconsciously pouting slightly.

“That's not what I asked, birdie. Would it help if you knew how to fight back? How to defend yourself?” He asks, and when you nod, he nods back, thinking to himself. “All right, luckily for you, I know just the Captain to teach you a couple of tricks.” He says, making you smile. At that moment, the food arrives at the table and when the waiter walks back, he says; “So eat up, we have things to do tonight, love.

Dinner turns out to be delicious, nothing that you didn't expect. And after enjoying each other company through it, he pays for the food and walks along you back to the car.

You still don't know what's his plan, and he won't tell you any more information than what he has already. It's not until later, when he is already driving that you start to recognise the road and you ask: “Are we going to the base?”

He nods. “I'm gonna train you. Is as good as any time to start doing it, right?” He asks, smiling at you.

“Is it?” You ask, looking at the clothes the both of you are wearing. “Aren't we dressed a little bit too fancy?”

“Well, you never know when you are going to be attacked, it'll add to the realism.” He answers chuckling, and you look at him with a raised eyebrow before shaking your head and smiling as well.

Once he parks in the base, he opens your door again and the both of you walk hand in hand to the shooting range. He turns on the lights to illuminate the empty room and walks to one of the cupboards on the side. He opens it, taking a gun, some bullets and a pair of glasses for eye protection from the inside. He puts the glasses on you, smiling for himself and hands you the gun.

You pick it up, a bit surprised by the weight and look up at him. “Straight to shooting? I was expecting maybe some sparring for my first class, John.”

He chuckles nodding before saying: “I know, but it's really weird to find the shooting range empty. So let's take advantage of it, shall we? First lesson, how to reload the gun.”

He explains to you how to do it, stirring something in you as he uses a different from what you are used to. You assume that's how he talks to his soldier when instructing them, and even though a part of you is curious about what he must sound like when he is pissed at them, you follow the instructions earning yourself a “Good girl” that has you smiling and blushing like an idiot.

He steps behind you, separating your feet with his foot and telling you what's the best position. His chest is pressed to your back and his hands are around your hands. He points to a little relief on the end of the barrel and says: “This is the front sight, and this is the rear sight.” He says pointing to a second one on the back. “Align them, and then you'll know where you are aiming. Once you have done that, take the safety back and pull the trigger. Careful with the recoil, I'll help you with this one.”

You follow his instructions, grabbing the gun with steady hands so it doesn't fly away once you press the trigger and when you can see the target through the align sight, you shoot. Price's hands over yours keep the gun in place, and he looks up to the screen on top of you to see where the bullet hit and he whistles looking back at you. “You hit the target, birdie. Quite impressive, love.”

“Thank you, Sir.” You say and chuckle when he looks at you with a face. “What? You don't like it when I call you sir?”

“You have a gun on your hands, birdie. Behave.” He says sternly but still gently. “Shoot again.”

“Yes, Sir.” You say smiling and going back to aiming the gun. Just when you are about to shoot, Price presses his growing boner against your arse, completely distracting you and sending the bullet out or the target.

“Birdie! That was worse.” Price says behind you, with a fake worrying tone.

“What did you expect?” You exclaim, looking back at him offended.

“Now, now. It's part of the training, love. You need to work through the distractions.” He says chuckling.

“Yeah, I'm sure all of the boys went through it.” You reply.

“Gaz did.” He says simply. “And he didn't complain, so back to work.”

You groan, clearly knowing what he planning on doing and getting ready for the teasing he is about to put you through. You close one eye to be able to focus more clearly, and position the gun to shoot and again, just before you pull the trigger, he rubs against you making you miss the target. He laughs softly behind you and you groan pulling your head back “John!” you whine

“What is it, love?” He asks nonchalantly. “I am not going to learn like this.” You answer looking back at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He says peppering your exposed shoulder with kisses. “You are right, I’m sorry, birdie, you just make me lose my mind so easily. Get back at it, I’ll try my best to not eat you up for now.”

You shake your head at his dramatism and raise the gun again. Once Price is back in Captain's mood it is fairly easy to get the hang of it, after a while letting you hold the gun on your own, the recoil shaking your whole body the first couple of shots. Not that Price shamelessly ogles your whole body when it jiggled because of the shoot. At the end, and actually fairly soon you get more and more clean shots, getting closer and closer to the bullseye earning yourself a pat on the back by Price. “You’re a natural, birdie. I’ll keep you in mind if we get an opening.” He jokes making you laugh.

“Sure, I’m sure I’ll be at you guys level in a week.” You joke back and then look at him. “You can go back now.”

“Sorry?” He asks raising an eyebrow.

“You know, back to that… distraction training thing.” You say, struggling to keep the eye contact and when he gets what you are talking about he laughs loudly before going back to hugging you from behind. “Does my sweet girl want a bit more extra training?” He says grinding against your arse, his boner more prominent now than on his last try. You nod breathless, unable to speak. “Words, birdie.”

“Yes, Sir”

A groan is everything you hear before he grabs your hips pushing you flush against him. He kisses your neck leaving a wet trail as he goes up to your ear. “Shoot the gun, birdie. Don’t miss.”

You try to focus as hard as you can with his warm mouth against the skin of your neck and his hard dick in between your ass cheeks; when you shoot it goes terribly out of the target and when he realizes a slap lands on your clothed cunt making you shake a whine escaping your mouth. “Again, birdie.”

As you adjust the gun, you feel his hand find its way under your dress beginning to rub your cunt over your underwear. When you are about to shoot, he presses his index finger against your clit making you miss again and another slap land on you, harder with the loss of the dress in the way. “You are getting these underwear ruined, birdie. Such a nasty girl. Try again, and I'll give you something.”

Once again, you raise the gun, closing your eyes for a second when he circles your clit with his fingertips. He gets his hand under your underwear, slipping his finger back and forth from your hole to your clit. You can feel your whole body shake, but somehow your hand remain steady and when you shoot this time you feel his finger enter your cunt forcing you to close your eyes. You leave the gun on the table, not trusting yourself with your eyes closes and whole body shaking again once Price begins to piston his finger in and out of your cunt making you moan his name.

His other arm finds his way around your neck, pushing you up and keeping you in a headlock only able to moan his name and take his finger in your cunt. “Look at the screen, birdie.” He whispers in your ear, and when you look up you notice the bullet hit straight into the bullseye, a weak smile appearing on your face.

“Such a good fucking girl, birdie. Shooting so good so soon.” He whispers against your skin as he enters a second finger into you making you whine at the stretch. “Now I need to give you something, right?” He asks and you quickly nod moaning. “How about I give you a good fuck, birdie? Hm? Almost my whole team has already got a taste of fucking your sweet little cunt, and here I am, waiting for you to let me get inside, love. You want that, birdie? Are you gonna let the Captain fuck you stupid, hm?”

You eagerly nod earning a chuckle from him, but his fingers don't stop fucking your cunt the ball of his hand hitting your clit with every thrust sending a shock up your spine. You can only whine and moan at his mercy as you feel your orgasm approach, for a second you fear he might leave you wanting but you quickly realize that he much rather have you crying from overstimulation. You come with a loud moan of his name as you whip your head back on his shoulder unable to stay still as he keeps going not slowing down making your juices lazily drip down his hand.

“Ask for it, birdie. Please, I want to hear you ask for it.” He says, moving the arm from your neck letting you hold yourself up holding onto the table, slowing his fingers but still slowly fucking you.

“Please… Fuck me, please, John.” You half moan, looking back at him from over your shoulder. Price groans letting his forehead rest on your back, laughing to himself. “Birdie, you are going to kill me one of these days.” He says before dropping a kiss to where your exposed back begins and dragging his tongue up to your nape making you whine and arc your back onto him.

You hear the unmistakable sound of his belt getting undone, and you feel his fingers slip from your cunt only to appear right on your lips. “Taste yourself, birdie. Taste how fucking delicious you are.” You take his finger on your mouth, making him groan as you hear him fist himself; his tip grazing your wet cunt once he moves your underwear to the side. He pushes his finger down on your tongue, forcing you to open your mouth and a loud moan leaves your mouth as his dick enters your pussy stretching you out.

And then, a series of praises and compliments begin to fall from Price’s mouth as he fucks you that takes your mind to a blissful state where the only thing you can do is moan and take in the love Price is pouring onto you. “My sweet fucking girl… taking my dick so fucking good, the best fucking pussy I have ever had, love. You just fucking ruined me for everyone else, gonna keep you with me forever, hm? You’ll like that, birdie? Keeping you with me forever, and with the boys. Oh, birdie, if you have heard them… fuck… fucking obsessed with you, birdie. Stay with us, birdie. We’ll be good, I promised. We’ll take care of you, of everything you want, everything you need.”

To hear the respectable Captain Price practically whine in your ear, begging you to stay with him has you weak on your knees and you fear you may collapse when the hand on your hips disappear for a moment. It quickly comes back, and the hand inside your mouth goes out grabbing your jaw instead and forcing you to look at the screen, and the sight makes your eyes widen.

On the screen is the clear image of you getting your gut rearranged by the 141 Captain, being livestream by the security camera of the shooting range. Price goes back to whispering filth in your ear when he feels you clench. “Look how good you fucking look, birdie. Going to fucking steal the footage, watch it every night. How about we let the boys see it, hm? How good you take my cock on this tight fucking pussy, hm? Like a fucking champ.”

You whine clenching again earning a groan from him, unable to peel your eyes away both by his hand and by the hypnotic image on the screen. The mental image of Price or any of the boys pleasuring themselves with the ongoing images has you getting closer and closer to the edge, and Price must be able to tell because he gets a hand down to your clit rubbing quick circles in it making you cum with a loud moan as you clench on him like a vice. He groans behind you, your hands find their way back to the edge of the table when he takes back the hand from your jaw, just to slap your ass making you whine and grabs your hips fucking you hard, the sound of his hips hitting the meat of your ass filling the room. You wouldn't be surprised if you woke up to bruises on your body, Price chasing his own release like a madman moaning your name when he finally reaches it releasing his hot cum inside of you.

Still buried inside of you, he hugs you from behind his forehead resting on your shoulder, groaning when he feels you clench around him from the aftershock of your orgasm. He raises, grabbing your leg in the process and raising it, leaving you spread-legged directly to the camera. “Show the boys, doll. Did I fuck you nice, birdie?” He asks, and when you nod without talking he gives you a quick thrust with his softening dick making you moan of overstimulation. “Words, birdie.”

“Yes, Sir.” You moan softly, and whine when Price bends down biting the joint of your shoulder and neck hard, possessiveness taking over him and urging him to leave a mark on you as if his cum leaking from your cunt around his dick wasn't enough. “Good fucking girl, birdie. So fucking good.” He says licking the mark of his teeth he just left. He leaves your leg down, dropping kisses around your shoulder before asking: “Can you hold still for a minute, birdie? I’m gonna be back in just a minute, I promise.” You nod, leaning more of your weight onto the table making him chuckle and you hear him walk away.

Being true to his word, he comes back just a minute later, a pen drive in his hand and two hours' worth of footage deleted from the security system. He lifts you bridal style and he starts to walk to his room, turning the lights off on his way out.

Once inside his room, he takes your clothes off as well as his own and gets in the shower with him. A warm innocent shower, just him washing the sweat and saliva of your body. Once the both of you are cleaned, he covers you with a towel sitting you on the toilet and uses a wet towel to clean the make-up off your face. The both of you brush your teeth in comfortable silence and then he dries you up. Neither of you bothers to put on any clothes before getting under the cover, the heat of each other body keeping you warm.

Price cups your face, finally kissing you for the first time in the whole night, sealing the deal of all the promises and feelings he professed for you. He lets you readjust your position against him before hugging you and whispers before falling asleep. “Sleep nice, birdie.”

Hii 💗

Hope you liked the first date with the boys, Price won the poll like, with a huge difference 🤣 so I hope I met the expectations.

I already have most of the other dates planned, but let me know if you would like for something to happen hehe.

Thank you so much for the support, make sure to leave a comment if you liked it so I can see, really I love to read the comments so don't be worried about writing.

If you want to be added to the permanent link it is on my masterlist, and I love you guys ❤️❤️❤️

P-Tag List: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @kristalhi @dumybitch @infpt-zylith @jupiternighties @cassiecasluciluce @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tired-writer04 @evolutionarry @prettykinkysoul @pagesfalling @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @renabear88 @lolliepopsicle @reap3erslov3 @tooloudarts @sodavrr @anirok2 @lilliumrorum @ladyxtiger @multy-fandom-lover @thriving-n-jiving @lotionlamp @spicyspicyliving @xxeiraxx @vampirekilmerfic @keiraslayz @risingofjupiter @dukeofjjune @witchthewriter @soupinasock @tf141gloryhole @shadowtfpcod @spicyspicyliving @dontworryboutitokie @ghostlythots @xinyiline @missmidnight-writes

824 notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 11 months

Text

[If you need to be mean] chapter 2

Chapter 1

Konig decided to meet his new favorite civilian at the cafe you work at. Unfortunately for both of you, you're both socially awkward. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

— Did something good happen, colonel? You are practically shining.

Horangi always had this special ability of telling nonsense with the most serious face and deep voice. He also was the only one in his unit to ever be brave enough to joke with his superior – even though all the other KorTac members usually don’t risk their asses to be put on fire list because of some silly joke. He is the closest König has to a friend – and it’s kinda sad, actually, that a broken gambling addict is the only person who can read his emotions so well, even with his hood and permanently sour expression.

But something good did happen – you happen, of course.

He spend a few days of self-reflecting, drinking and punching training manekens in the gym, trying so fucking hard to put your adorable civillian face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, but the way your features would get distorted into something even more adorable every time he closed his eyes, was concerning. He dealt with those little obsessions before – nothing that a few good rounds of jerking off until he would feel nothing but emptiness and hatred to himself couldn’t handle. He surely can’t fall that deep down, he only saw you for like an hour and it was literally three days ago!

— I read your reports about the last terrorist encounter. Good job, Horangi.

— And I heard about that civilian girl you pulled, sir. Thought we are bringing those to the police, not their houses.

— I had to make sure she wasn't a spy.

— And she wasn’t?

König thinks – would be far easier if he would have an official, legal reason to keep you locked up on the base without the right to come out. Would be far easier for him to just think about you as an enemy, so he would have normal reasons for thinking about you constantly, and not feeling guilty. It’s normal to think so much about your enemies – this is what keeps you alive on the field, if you can determine their shortcomings early and make sure that you can fight them. He would love having you as an enemy – it would at least give him some info before starting obsession over little ol’ you.

— No.

— That would give us at least some lead to the terrorist cell. Feels like all locals are protecting them from it.

— I understand your frustration. But at least they are not cutting our pay.

— We might as well rebel if they’d try to.

— We are not stepping on terrorist’s route.

— I was joking, sir. Only thing that’s left here except for card games.

Horangi hates stationing in this country as much as König is – and, given that he is a sergeant and doesn’t have as much rank expectations, can talk about this openly. This operation is perfect except for the lack of intel, lack of action and lack of basically anything to do – the local forces are handling minor threats, while mercs here are mostly to show off how the government has money to hire them. KorTac would pay for actually having to fight some bad guys around here – but the bigger ones are hiding and lower ones are already getting tracked down by the local military.

The only interesting thing to do, seemingly, is to obsess over local girls – and König thought he is better than this.

But he isn’t losing sleep over thinking about how scared and fragile you looked that night. Especially not even going to think about how adorable your little pout was, and the way your hands were trembling. He definitely doesn't want to know every tiny detail about your life, what you like and what you hate, what is your favorite position in bed and the color of underwear you are currently wearing – or even if you are wearing one. And he isn’t some sort of creep that would spend an obnoxiously long amount of time registering on social media – god, he is too old for this shit, it literally feels even more humiliating than his whole school experience – just so he can find your accounts and get instant masturbation material.

You really shouldn’t post so much half-naked photos – yes, this is a reel from your last summer vacation and yes, this swimsuit looks beautiful on you, but have you ever considered that some creep(not someone like him, he is palming himself very respectfully) would use those photos as a way to get themself off? Terrible, scary, he can’t wait for you to post some new photos – maybe in something that he would buy you, way skimpier and more expensive, so he could protect you from those people.

He looks at your posts about work – and he hates this stupid blue bird app because it never works for him, always filled with some assholes who are trying to argue with literally everyone, and the way he can’t even see your posts properly because of the weird ads. No, he doesn’t need a “Thing that would make your dick longer” he literally has a problem with making it smaller. No, he doesn’t need some dumb T-shirt even though he kinda reflects with the funny pun about pokemons and would love to wear something containing his major interest even though it would look ridiculous on a 6 '10 killing machine.

But König reads all of your short posts about the way you hate working in customer service, and his hand is almost slipping to the ad about wedding rings. You hate your job, he hates his – practically soulmates, even though he doesn’t really hate the killing part of his employment, he just doesn’t want to be in charge of people and making them steal the fun of destroying. He would, however, agree to get as many ranks as possible if that would mean providing for you. If that would allow him to be by your side and listen to your sweet voice, he would agree for the next promotion even if higher ups would want him to make some PR wawes and become a fucking fashion model.

But he is completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing is wrong with him when he can’t even think about visiting you in real life, but he leaves a like on every of your posts in every social media he has – you have terrible online safety habits by the way, he can already see what the inside of your apartment looks like, your place of work from three different angles, and how the front door of your apartment is held together by a very easy to destroy lock. He could snatch it in one deliberate kick, not even speaking about just shooting it. Not like he would need to, he wants you to be with him willingly. Or, at least, don’t fight him too much in case he would actually lose his patience and do something drastic.

It has already been three days and he feels like he is going crazy. He had those things before, overthinking about tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but even then he’d understand that he can’t be with them – it could be his school crushes that were, ironically, crushed because of his anxiety. It might be some casual flings with his fellow soldiers that would either get killed in the field or never happen because it would be fraternization. Some random people he saw at the airport and already imagined life with multiple kids and a dog. He always knew he had a problem – but it was never like this before. Never dangerous.

The problem is – he knows that he can have you.

Maybe not in a traditional way, he doubts that you would just marry him on the spot, but he can court you at least. He can shower you with gifts or ridiculous tips at your job, he can just snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate. He can make his men kidnap you, and while it is inhumane and you don’t deserve this, he would calm you down – and then have his happily ever after.

He knows that he can have you – and it drives him crazy. He could stop himself previously, when he didn’t have anything for himself to be considered desirable – but now, with his rank and all the new opportunities and money it brings, he can’t stop but fantasize.

You under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed from sweat and marked with his teeth.

You under him, so wonderfully tight, not letting him go even for an inch – and you are perfectly taking him, no matter how gigantic he is.

You under him, smiling, cuddling after a long night – every night after a mission, where he could spend his free time deep in your body, listening to your melodic moans and little whines.

You under…

— Can I…can I take your order, sir?

He is a disgusting human being because lives of thousand people are on a stake, he would just doom them all if he wouldn’t find those terrorists soon – and he wastes time on sitting in this tiny ass cafe, trying to place himself on the small seat while being all too nervous to just talk to you. Like a person. Of course he had to go to your shift – he already determined which days you were working because it increased the number of angry “I hate my job and want to kill my manager” posts on that dumb social media, and he knows which hours you work at – of course it’s almost night time, the closing shift, because he simply can’t have himself not worry about you.

He is a creep, weirdo and all that words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones all of these days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are munching on the pen you are using to write his order. Oh, yes, order. He is supposed to order something, he can’t just give you money for how adorable you look in that white apron – even though you are absolutely stunning and should get money.

God, he would murder everyone in this building just for them to never look at your legs again.

God, he would bury himself between them if only you’d allow him to.

— Sir, is everything okay?

He served in the military for far longer that you lived, probably. Most of his life, he got used to being referred to as something honorable, or referring to other people like that – and he never thought that just being referred to as “sir” would make his dick twitch in his pants. He crosses his legs, hoping not to get too imposing – he already towers over the tiny table like a giant he is, barely even fitting in it. He thinks he has a healthy amount of self-control – then he looks at you again, and thanks all the gods he knows for the mask he is wearing – at least under the black surgeon piece and dark glasses you won’t really see his blush. Or that little twitching in his eyes that is indicating danger.

— Sorry, I…can I, um, have a coffee? Bitte…please, I mean.

He hates how nervous he is – like high school again, asking his crush out just to be ridiculed. But you look perfect like this – controlled environment, you can’t just laugh at him and say that he is a weird nerd from another class, you have a manager who is controlling of such behavior. He would never tell on you, of course, he wants you to be happy, even if this job makes you the most miserable – even though he kinda thinks of you as a weak for this, his job literally involves killing people and he doesn't argue that much!

But you giggle – sweet, innocent sound, it drives him crazy even more than he previously was. It doesn’t feel like those girls at school – yes, he still can’t let that go, even though his therapist says he has to – and he loses all control at how beautiful you sound. He wants to take you away right now, pay you for your workplace however you get them, and just use you as he wants – no matter how socially unacceptable. He protects this country, he has the right for a little prize, right? No, this would be terrible, he shouldn’t just harass sweet little civilians like you, he should…

— What type of coffee, sir? Do you want some dessert?

This is a typical question, he was at cafes and coffee shops a thousand times but, for some reason, it feels almost like you are teasing him. You bite the end of your pen with those adorable teeth of yours – he wants to feel it on his fingers, he wants you to leave bite marks all over his body as a sign of marking him as yours. He smiles under his mask, hoping that you would somehow feel it – how happy you make him feel, how hard it’s for him not to lose control.

— No. Just coffee.

— Sugar?

He would like some sugar, of course – but the one he wants is probably not for sale, even though that adorable white apron of yours makes you look like a candy. He would love to unwrap you from those silly clothes and devour what belongs to him for the right of protector, but he knows how scared you might be. He is not a good person, he killed more people that he could count – countless fathers, sons, mothers, he shouldn’t even think about having a right for a family of his own after all of this. He is not a good person and his moral code changes with every kill he gets – but for hell sake, he wants to be nice with you. You deserve it, he knows. More than he is, for sure.

König doesn’t really like sugary stuff, it was always too childish, made him too energetic, disrupted his very peculiar way of eating things. Sweets makes him only more hungry, makes him crave more, and he wants to be as serious as possible – so he usually drinks and eats stuff that is no tastier than a pile of dry sand. But he responds before he can think, too focused on that shiny lipgloss you have on your lips. He would lick and bite it all – soon, he hopes.

— Ja. Thank you.

— Good choice, sir.

Your lips are curling into a small, shy smile and he likes sugar now. He isn’t sure if you are telling everyone that their order is a good choice, maybe you just want to get more tips, but he hopes that maybe, he is special. Maybe there is something nice happening to him after all. A small reward for not being a total monster on the last mission he had, even though he could. He can’t do anything but to stare at you, his only saving grace is the dark lenses of his glasses – he can’t wear his hood in civil situations, unfortunately, people would stare, stare, stare and that would make him want to pull their eyes out.

But you smile and he smiles also, even if you can’t see it. He is looking at your legs and, fuck, he is a disgusting old creature that preys upon younger women because he never had a positive experience before. He is a total creep and a monster that should be put down already – but he stares at your legs under that waitress dress, and he would pay your manager a few thousand Euros to cut the length of your skirt in half.

Then he sees all the others looking at you the same way – old people, young people, there aren’t a lot of guests at this time in the evening, most people are afraid of going into public places while the war on terrorism is going on. There aren’t a lot of people while it’s almost closing time, but he doesn't even want to think about all the other men looking at you like this. Devouring you with their eyes, probably leaving sleazy comments as you go through the small cafe, just as overworked as your other coworkers. He wants to take you from here.

You don’t deserve people looking at you like you aren’t even a person – only he can look at you respectfully, stripping you with his eyes. He can be soft for you, can be perfect – if you would just let him.

König doesn’t want to be a creep around you, but he was looking at your legs for five minutes already, picturing the way your body would look under all of these clothes, and his cock gets painfully hard. He thanks himself for wearing normal, baggy pants, not something tighter – at least his embarrassment is completely covered by his clothes.

— Here is your coffee. Anything else?

You look nervous, of course – but he seems way softer than he was a couple days ago, at night. The absence of his creepy mask is obviously helping, and because he is sitting, you don’t have to tilt your head too high, causing your neck to stretch uncomfortably. He looks awkwards, like a big dog that still tries to fit into his old bed, and it causes you to smile a little bit more. You made sure to place a couple of sugar cubes on the plate, so he could decide for himself, if he wants to use them all – but the mere thought of that giant of a man, a colonel, hardened soldier liking something silly and sweet is making you giggle.

He looks way softer than he was that night, and you can almost forget about how scared you were – how you were thinking that this would be the end for you, that one, overthinking part of your mind already making up the scenarios of getting martial lawed because of the broken curfew. You can even see his hair – and fight the urge to touch it a little. He is still who-knows-how-old and still a military presence in your peaceful country.

You still want to ruffle his hair.

He still wants to take your clothes off and make you his.

— Nein, thank you.

He stares at the cup for a good few seconds – if he wants to drink, he needs to actually take it off. He has many scars on his face, and his mouth sometimes feels like it has more dead skin than alive one – he doesn’t want to attract attention. Some people are already staring at his badge and how awkward a giant man like him looking in that cozy, tiny place – but he also wants you to see how much pain he can withstand without getting killed. How he can protect you from anything because there literally isn’t anything he won’t do for you. You would appreciate a man with scars, it’s a sign of bravery, right?

Then he thinks about all the times he would take off his mask and how people around him would look at him – with pity, with fear, with disgust sometimes even though he is certain that his face isn’t as deformed as some other parts of his body. He even almost managed to grow a beard once! Then he had to scrub it all off because hair was growing in very uneven patches and he looked like something crawled on his chin and died.

König fought in countless battles, spent his youth training to be the best killer possible, took part in many major conflicts and killed hundreds of people while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – except for talking to people sometimes, maybe, and even now he is trying to work on it with his therapist, instead of just killing anyone who looks at him funny. He isn’t afraid of the dark, of death, of uncertainty in his life. But he is afraid of you looking at him unmasked and thinking that you, in fact, find him disgusting.

You almost want to take your time to look at what he will do – is he going to take off his mask? Is he going to drink right through the fabric? You have too much work to just stay at his table and stare, even if you want to – but you are trying to give him occasional glances as he just…sits at his table. Not even moving, just staring at the cup and sometimes moving his head to look at you – or just ornaments at the wall behind you. Yes, probably the ornament.

König sits at the table and, well, he doesn’t even want to drink his coffee because just looking at the way your ass sways under that terribly short skirt is enough to set him on fire. He wants to take you home with him – even though his home is all the way up in Austria. He would take you, you probably wouldn’t even be mad at you – you could be a perfect little family. He already waited too long to start one, never finding anyone who would win his heart for a long run but he was sure that this three-days-obsession would last long. He isn’t sure, however, if he likes it or not.

He ended up not drinking at all – he knows that he can’t just waste multiple hours, he already got his lieutenants covering the spot with paper work while their commander is away at searching for the love of his life. He wants to be with you longer, probably walk you home again and make sure to protect you from any creeps that would want to attack. He can’t have that, it’s obvious – he is a colonel, unfortunately, he is still on the hunt for those terrorists, he can barely give himself an hour of free time these days.

He already indulged in his fantasies too much when he folds a 100 Euros banknote and puts it into the bill – not sure about how much money it is here, not wanting to give you any trouble with exchanging currency, he just hopes that would be enough for you to at least not worry about food for a few days. Or buy yourself something nice – what girls like these days? Guns, books, some fancy lip gloss, a hat for their adorable little turtles? He would buy you a pet turtle, he always wanted one as a kid – right before his father said that all lizards are products of sinful corporations and a lazy pet like a turtle, unlike a giant dog breed, is completely useless and unmanly.

He doesn’t want to be here when you’ll get the bill – he is too afraid that he didn’t gave you enough, that you'd be disappointed. He would love to give you more, of course, but he doesn’t want to just shove you the money like you are some sort of cheap whore – he wants to give you gifts, something meaningful, to steal you from poverty altogether. König is an expert in infiltration and escaping arts, he can exit the location without anyone noticing a thing, even with his size – and then you look at him, directly into his eyes, covered by sunglasses – and your face is twisted in shock as you realize what exactly he left you.

— Wait, sir! Please, I…god, I will get you the change right now, I’m so sorry, it’s closing shift, I…I’m sorry, I completely forgot…

You are almost begging him to stop and let you give him his money, a honorable deed really – but all he can think of is how nice you would look on your knees, begging him to fuck you already. How perfect you would look all whiny and spoiled, asking him for something expensive, whatever your cute head would want. You would look so complete on his lap, tugging on his shirt and asking your daddy for a new toy. You would…

— It was a tip. Take it.

He wants to be able to tell you how perfect you look, how he wants to just throw you over his shoulder in a totally non-creepy way and make you his little wifey. How he would take multiple months of leave to just be with you, marry you, breed you. He wants to have a way with words, but they are useless to him – he can’t even say he likes you, it’s embarrassing, he is almost forty, he got his rank as youngest colonel in history of KorTac, he can literally have almost everything he wants – except for basic social skills.

He feels like a creep, an old man trying to steal that perfect girl from the shiny world, and he hates himself for it – but then you blush and he can almost convince himself that yeah, you like that creep too.

— I…shit, I mean, sorry…thank you, sir.

— Don’t wander at night again.

He feels like a scolding father and you giggle again, too innocent and naive to understand his thoughts.

— I won’t. Promise.

He then slowly leans closer, puts a hand on your shoulder again – goosebumps are running on your skin. His head is near yours now, he is whispering in your ear – and you are almost sure that you shouldn’t have come closer to him like this, that it’s unprofessional from your side, that everyone is staring at you. They are – and you try to ignore it, but…

— Wear shorts under your skirt next time. Never know who might look at your legs like that.

You would slap him here and there. You would scream and run away right now, but for some stupid, dumb, completely terrifying reason, you…almost like how protective he sounds. And the money he gave you is also helping – even if just a little bit.

König looks at the way you blush even more, and he knows already that he won’t ever let you go.

Tag list: @iwritesjud3

Please write if you want to be tagged in the next chapter!

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #reader insert #yandere #yandere konig #yandere x reader #yandere cod #fem reader

1K notes · View notes

lady-rose-moon · 6 months

Note

I would love to see how you write Loki X shy reader. Like she’s obviously so into him and he just loves to watch her get all flustered

Meet me in the elevator || Avenger!Loki x Reader ||

↣ MASTERLIST

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 3.7k

Since moving into Avengers Tower last year after being rescued from HYDRA, you’ve developed close friendships with the main Avengers, loving to spend most of your time around Wanda or Natasha. They all knew that you didn’t handle well in public settings, talking with new people - hell, it was difficult to just talk to them sometimes, never mind people you’d never met before.

You were settled into a room on the twenty-fifth floor, alongside Thor. It stayed that way for a while before Thor returned from Asgard one day with Loki on his arm. For Loki’s credit, he looked as pleased to be there as the Avengers were to see him there. You, on the other hand, stayed very quiet through the argument that came next, taking moments to just admire the new addition with curiosity. Something inside you told you that you weren’t supposed to be intimidated by the highly intimidating God before you.

“But shouldn’t he be sent to S.H.I.E.L.D? Or- maybe whoever we are supposed to send him to should he return,” Steve was asking, your mind bringing you unwillingly back to the present, your eyes straying away from the man who appeared to be the person at fault for New York 2012.

“If he is handed over to them, they will waste no time in attempting to experiment on him and his power,” Thor answered, his eyes serious and focused on not just Steve but everyone in the room, “Father has ordered his imprisonment here within the tower where we will keep him subdued. Should you turn him away, I am to find alternative lodgings.”

The Avengers took a moment, unspoken arguments crossing around the room before Tony relented, hanging his head and uttering the damning words, “fine, give him the room next to yours, Thor.”

Your admiration stopped within a millisecond. The room next to Thor’s was exactly opposite yours! Slowly, you slid down the sofa until you were fully laid down and silently groaned to yourself. Of course, you’re shacked with a Thunder God and his Godly terrorist brother.

Following Loki’s sudden appearance within the tower, you spent more time avoiding the 25th floor. You avoided it as if it were the plague, going so far as to fall asleep in the common room of the tower just so that you wouldn’t be on the same floor as Loki.

The God didn’t look happy when Thor forced him down to meals every day, claiming that getting Loki into such a routine would be good for his mental health and would help his ‘healing’. You watched every day as Loki sat opposite you, emerald eyes downcast and his posture closed off, unwanting of any attention. Perhaps, you thought, he was like you these days?

You didn’t stick around long enough to actually find out if your theory was correct, however, as once you were done eating, you excused yourself and quickly fled to the library on the 16th floor.

The library was your safe space away from the ruckus of the Avengers and their mission discussions, the quiet of the library calmed a part of you that you never realised needed to be calmed. Since you had woken up in your cell within the HYDRA base with no memory of your life before, your social skills had been severely affected, only opening up after weeks of people trying to get you to open up.

Finding the library after being rescued by the Avengers shortly after the Sokovia incident was a breath of fresh air. From the moment you stepped into the two-floor library, Friday had made sure to play classic music as soon as you entered, easing the stress within you as you scoured the shelves. Since then, you have been happy to visit the library to escape the Avengers and lately; Loki.

The sun shone through the floor-length windows as it reached its peak for the day, the warmth enveloping you as you happily walked through the multiple shelves, your fingers absently brushing against the spines. Perhaps I should try to bring someone here, you thought, recalling speaking with Wanda about the library and smiling at the fascination on her face at the prospect of advancing her magic through books Thor had brought from Asgard.

The silence reigned in the tower during meal times for weeks after Loki’s arrival, it was a statement that everybody was uncomfortable with the God being around. Loki, for the most part, seemed as if he didn’t give a shit about their opinions about him. You’d begun to differentiate his movements from the others, seeing how he got up to get his Asgardian tea prepared exactly three minutes after Banner had poured his coffee and walked away. How Loki would reach for a sandwich shortly after Barton had grabbed six of them, handing three to Natasha to prevent poisoning. How, even though he looked unbothered, there was that subtle glint of loneliness.

It had been weeks since your magic had surfaced, weeks since you’d been able to delve into somebody’s mind. Wanda had taught all of the Avengers how to block themselves mentally against your powers so that not only you could have a better night's sleep but so they could as well.

However, you did not expect to fall into Loki’s dreams.

One moment you were in your own dreams, the next you were standing in a golden throne room. You hid behind a pillar to avoid being discovered, fearing that you’d been snatched by someone.

“What do you want?” there was a voice ahead of you, your view obstructed by the pillar you were hiding behind but when you peeked past it, you saw Frigga, Thor’s mother and therefore Loki’s too. She had a soft frown on her lips, her head tilted slightly as she approached her son, her hand reaching up to caress the terrorist’s cheek.

Your heart stuttered in shock at the discovery. You hadn’t imagined Loki would allow someone close to him but then again, she was his mother, it made sense in a way.

“I…” Loki began and your heart stuttered again but it wasn’t shock, it was a feeling you’d never felt before. You’d never heard his voice before other than the scary videos you were shown when you joined the Avengers, discovering their past. He sounded British, yet he was Norse along with Thor, then again, Thor had a sort of Australian accent when you focused enough.

“I want my brother back,” Loki admitted, his head hung, vulnerability radiating off his body language as he admitted the weakness to his mother. You watched as Frigga’s face swiftly changed into an understanding smile before pulling him in for a hug. Still, Loki continued, his voice coated with grief, “I’m alone there, Mother, I do not want to be alone.”

“It was better than the punishment Odin had planned for you, Loki,” Frigga whispered, her eyes shining with tears, “infinitely so.”

You took in a sharp breath and that was all it took for Loki’s sharp eyes to meet yours and the room disappeared, replaced with a bedroom that looked almost identical to yours in Avengers Tower.

“What are you doing here?” Loki snapped, his eyes hardened and his guard back up. He studied every fraction of your face, looking for the malice he knew you’d have, looking for the blackmail to begin, looking for the taunting. Yet, he found nothing.

Since his arrival, he had taken note of your presence, never once considering you’d be anything like the Witch or Vision. Yet here you stood, in his dreams. Loki grimaced as you stayed silent, his head tilting ever so slightly, mimicking Frigga’s previous actions. “Answer me,” he snapped after a few moments, annoyed by your ignorance.

You trembled as you stared up into Loki’s eyes, your nerves taking control of your body and preventing you from speaking up. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in the wet tear tracks that slid down his face, shining in the light that was coming in from the open curtains. Then your eyes fell to Loki’s decorated tunic, noting the hints of gold woven into the threads and the green accents everywhere.

“You’re staring, pet,” Loki purred, stepping closer to you, intrigue apparent in his features. He’d never seen someone take this much interest in his appearance before. Sure, he’d had wenches back in Asgard to quench his need but never had they admired him the way this girl was doing. It stirred something in Loki, a challenge.

You stammered, attempting to find a way to plead your case before realising it was futile. You wouldn’t be able to find any way to explain this, not with your tongue being tied and your fears rising. So, instead of speaking, you snapped away from his dreams and sat upright in bed.

Brushing a hand through your hair, you took a deep breath before retreating into your bathroom. Since it was the early hours of the morning, you’d abuse the silence of the tower and roam how you wanted.

As you left the room, you were unaware of the emerald green eyes following you from the doorway of the room opposite your own.

You seemed to run into Loki a lot more after accidentally stumbling into his dreams a month ago. Whenever you’d step into the library, your eyes would be drawn to the floor-length windows where Loki was lying on the sofa with a book in hand, lazily turning pages. He gave you no mind, he didn’t even acknowledge you were there yet you still felt his eyes on you constantly.

He was in the gym when you were trying to get some training done. Dressed in just a simple tunic and pants, going up against Steve, he looked the epitome of the female gaze. His hair was pulled back in a bun and his tunic was slightly wet with sweat. You huffed, trying your best not to get distracted by the alluring God fighting against the supersoldier but damn you couldn’t help getting a few glances at that ass. Definitely Asgard’s ass, you thought to yourself with an amused grin.

“Y/N!” Steve called from the ring, running over to the edge as you turned to stare at him, your eyes wandering over his shoulder to meet Loki’s heated gaze and your body warmed, alight with need and interest but physically unable to say anything.

“Yeah Steve?” you spoke up quickly, your eyes quickly shifting to meet Steve’s again.

“Spar with Loki, I need a break,” the soldier spoke. He said it so casually, as if he wasn’t condemning you to at least fifteen minutes of torture in the ring with the object of your desires. Then again, Steve seemed to be oblivious to all the sexual tension happening within the Avengers. He didn’t even know about Wanda and Vision until he saw them kissing in the breakfast room!

You sighed and nodded, getting into the ring and facing Loki. The God’s lips quirked up into a half-smirk as he took you in, his eyes hungrily roving over your body. The tank top you wore barely hid the sports bra below it, your leggings clinging to your legs sparking an interest deep in his abdomen. You drove him mad. You hadn’t visited his dreams since that night but damn, you haunted them still!

“Are you ready, darling?” Loki purred, his voice sinking deep into your bones as he flexed his muscles, grinning to himself when he watched your eyes wander down his form, “you’re staring, Y/N.”

Your body jerked up straight, freezing with nerves as you were caught in the act before you shook your head and got into position.

Sparring with Loki brought out that inner calm that you didn’t know you had. Your mind was always whirring with ‘what if’ scenarios, pulling you under the waves if you allowed yourself to think about it for too long. Inside the ring, mirroring Loki’s movements, keeping eye contact and ignoring the hammering of your heart, you felt more like yourself than you had for years.

When Loki grabbed you and pushed you to the floor, arousal streaked through your body as you were held firmly beneath him, his emerald eyes searing into your own, your heart racing and your mind racing a mile a minute trying to find a way that this can be explained platonically. He was just fighting you, he didn’t want a real reaction, totally not!

Loki, for the most part, kept his attraction to you a secret but as you became a true competitor for him in the ring, he licked his lips at the challenge and eagerly fought back. When he pinned you to the mat, he saw the spark of arousal in your eyes and his grin morphed into a smirk. “TKO, darling,” he whispered seductively, watching your eyes flutter before you seemed to come back to yourself, bring yourself to your feet and scurry away.

From behind him, Loki heard a groan and he chuckled to himself. “Is there a problem, Agent Romanoff?” he asked with a pleased hint to his voice, rolling his head and groaning at the satisfying cracks that could be heard.

“Whatever you’re doing to her, Loki, I suggest you stop,” Romanoff warned, her eyes aflame as she stared at the God of Mischief, “she’s a good asset.”

Innocently, Loki flashed a smirk at Romanoff before striding out of the training room, his bag and towel following after him surrounded by a green glow.

After that, no matter where you were; somehow Loki was too!

Even if you’d checked that he was in his room before heading out anywhere, he just appeared and soured your day. Well – not really, but you acted like it did. In the library, the gym, the kitchens or even out in the city as you got very stir crazy.

Now, you're back in your quarters and you get your first real chance to relax for a moment with Loki constantly following you around. After a rough day, your mind is going a mile a minute as you go through all the different ways he's interacted with you lately. Sure, he could just be friendly and interested in getting to know someone new, but the way he looked at you... the way his eyes locked onto yours... was there something more? You refused to believe it. Loki, the God of Mischief, could never be attracted to you.

Now that you had a moment to think, your stomach growled and you sighed at the realisation that you'd need to step out of your room yet again to get food. You could order but the temptation to get pizza or McDonald's would be too strong. Clicking the lock of your door, you stepped out into the dark hallway and made haste to the kitchens three floors below. Only when the elevator doors dinged open, you were greeted with the heated green gaze of the one God you did not want to see right now.

"Loki," you whispered in shock before calming your racing heart and stepping into the elevator, pressing the 16th floor button, "how convenient that you are here."

He flashes that grin at you that always seems to make your heart skip a beat. Loki casually leans against the opposite wall of the elevator and gazes at you with those enchanting emerald eyes. "Hardly, I just needed food. I suspect you did too?" he asks with that slight smirk.

"That's a very nice outfit you're wearing, darling," he adds. His smile shifts slightly at your blush, that blush that is totally just a natural response and not from him teasing you at all.

You stammered as the elevator descended. Those three floors feeling as if they take an eternity to get past in order to get to the common area. It wasn't really a nice outfit you were wearing, in all honesty. Just simple green joggers and a black shirt. Something you'd simply thrown on to venture downstairs. You weren't aware that you were wearing Loki's favourite colours, didn't know that you were blatantly displaying your affections for him through your clothing.

"Thank you," you murmured so you didn't seem rude, hugging your arms before you gazed up at him and the red that tinted your cheeks deepened when you saw that Loki had not once looked away from you, even if you'd turned your head to the ground.

He stares at you, trying to hide a grin at your evident embarrassment. He likes seeing you blush, and your shy nature certainly makes it easy to do so. Loki decides that he will have a little fun with this. "Tell me, darling," he asks. "Do you happen to like the colour green?" he asks, keeping that smile on his face, just waiting to see your reaction.

Oblivious to the double meaning to his words, you eagerly nodded and grabbed at your joggers, proudly displaying them to the God of Mischief.

"Yeah," you gushed, a goofy grin on your lips that pulled at Loki's heart, your eyes full of innocent pride, "always has been a favourite, always will be."

He raises an eyebrow at you, his smile growing slightly with that innocent pride you have for what you're wearing. Loki decides to play along with your innocence and go to the next step.

"Why, darling," he says, his voice full of mock surprise. "You're not trying to signal that you like me, are you?"

Heat once again rushed to your cheeks at the suggestion. Why would he ask that? Where had that ever been a signal that you liked him? Unless... no- it couldn't be. You remembered a conversation from months ago, Thor had suggested that women who wore red would always be seen as representing him in a way with their colour. Did Loki hold that belief too?

Loki watches the way you react with great interest, and is amused by that adorable blush of yours.

"Oh, darling," he replies. "I simply love a woman who knows how to show off their affection for a man. It's the ultimate form of respect."

His expression shifts slightly, and he takes a small step closer to you. "What, does this little outfit you're wearing mean that you think of me so much that you don't mind the chance that others might see as you trying to court me?" he asks in a playful tone.

"I- I- I didn't mean to-" you stammered; your cheeks flushed bright red by now yet again - though you supposed they'd never stopped being so since entering the elevator-. Your pride for your outfit faded, replaced by nervousness and a little bit of arousal for the God before you. His gaze seared into your soul, laid you bare before him, helpless to even process the fact that the elevator had long since stopped, the emergency stop button being pressed by Loki minutes ago.

"You didn't mean to?" the God asks, feigning innocence despite knowing exactly the effect he's having on you. He takes another small step closer, still keeping that charming grin on his face as he looks at you with those enchanting eyes.

His hand comes up to your throat, and he leans in closer, whispering in your ear. "Maybe you should come back to my room, darling," he says in a soft voice, as if that suggestion is the most natural thing in the world.

Your eyes widened in shock, your body trembling as if processed his request. He said it so naturally! How could he say that so casually?! So many questions raced through your mind as you stared up at him, your lip trembling as you struggled to find words to portray the whirlwind in your mind. Suddenly you realised you were trapped in this elevator with Loki for who knows how long, and you were ultimately playing a game of cat and mouse with the God of Mischief.

"I don't- I can't- we- we're partners, Loki, what will the others think?" you whispered, trying to hard to shy away from the handsome God before you.

He grins at you, amused at the sudden confusion you're feeling. He leans in even closer, his warm breath on your ear as he slowly leaned in closer to you. "Who cares what the others think?" he whispers. "They don't matter. Only we matter here. Don't you want me, darling?" he asks, his voice husky and full of the most hypnotic desire.

Loki's breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, lost in your beauty. "Give in... we have both waited too long, have we not?" he whispers.

Biting your lip, you tried one last time to shy away from his affections but your movement was prevented by a large hand encompassing your throat and pulling you closer to him and soft lips were pressed to your own. Shock rippled through your body as you took in this sudden action before your mind became quiet and you melted into the kiss.

He holds you close, a passionate grip with one of his arms wrapped around you so that you can feel the warmth of his body and his muscles as your lips mingle with his.

As he pulls back from the kiss, Loki is visibly panting. "I can feel your heartbeat, darling," he whispers. "You like my presence all the more." You can't deny it. Loki seems to make your heart jump even more now.

"I have wanted..." you hesitated, shame filling your body at the realisation that Loki had at least been interested in you for a while and you'd be avoiding him. "Since you came here, I have been intrigued by you then... one day... it was feelings and then... I tried to hide it," you whispered with a soft laugh, shaking your head and avoiding his gaze.

Loki wraps you in a warm embrace, running his hands over your hair. "Darling, you're so adorable. Why ever would you try and hide this from me?" he asks, looking directly into your eyes. "Let me show you just how interested I am in you."

Loki's eyes shift to something you hadn't expected: hunger. His eyes were always beautiful, but now they were filled with raw desire. And it was focused entirely on you.

Food forgotten, you pressed the button for your floor and wrapped your arms around Loki's neck, awaiting the arrival of your floor four floors above you.

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loki-laufeyson-1054 @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @anukulee @eleniblue @asgards-princess-of-mischief

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #loki fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #mcu loki #jotun loki x reader #reblog please #tom hiddleston character x reader #requests open #loki hurt/comfort #loki x you #hot loki

472 notes · View notes

navia3000 · 12 days

Text

a l l m y g h o s t s

Includes : Aaron Hotchner

Genre : Angst

Warnings : Crying, sadness, mentions of bombs and terrorists, typical Criminal Minds topics, Morgan’s kind of a dick, curse words

Based on : All My Ghosts by Lizzy McAlpine

Part one Part three

A/N : This is a part two to So Long, London. I’m trying something different with my writing style, and I don’t really know how I feel about this fic overall, so, let me know your thoughts. And, yes, there will be a part three.

The headquarters of the International Operation Division of the FBI was alive with the chatter of agents and the ringing of phones. The IOD had been investigating a major threat against the United States from a major terrorist group in Iraq. There had been two bombings connected to this group, and there were more to be expected. The case is so dire, the IOD decided to call in the Behavioral Analysis Unit to aid in catching the attackers, a fact Y/N wasn’t thrilled about.

It had been two years since Y/N had left the BAU. She hadn’t told anyone of her transfer, leaving without saying a word to the team. She had gone as far as ignoring their calls and texts, and, as time passed, she eventually stopped receiving them. It had pained her to leave her friends, no, her family in that way, but she couldn’t stand having to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t. She couldn’t be around the source of her heartbreak any longer, or she would explode. So, she took matters into her own hands.

Y/N knew her and the BAU’s paths would eventually cross again, she just hoped it wouldn’t have been so soon.

As she walked through the bullpen, she felt her heart racing. She wasn’t nervous about seeing Hotch, well, she was, but, she was more nervous about seeing her old friends. She knew they would be angry at her for the way she up and left. She would’ve been too if it was someone else on the team who did what she had.

She finally reached the doors that would lead her to the moment she most dreaded; the Behavior Analysis team would be sitting there, going over details of their profile. And, since she used to be a part of said team, her boss thought it best for her to be the one assisting them.

As she walked through the doors into the room the team had set up, she heard them grow quiet. They stared at her in disbelief, each one of them, and she couldn’t help but take each one in. Morgan looked stronger than when she had last seen him, Emily looked even more beautiful, JJ had grown her hair out, Penelope had dyed her hair cherry red, Rossi had more gray hairs than before, Spencer got rid of his glasses, and Hotch, well, Hotch looked exactly as she remembered him. Tall, handsome, and utterly exhausted. She didn’t fail to notice the missing ring on his left hand.

“Hi,” she spoke after minutes of silence. When she received no answer, she continued, “I was sent by my boss to assist you with building the profile on these terrorists.” She could feel her heart racing as the minutes wore on, and the disbelief in their eyes turned into confusion and anger. “I know we haven’t spoke in a while, but-”

Morgan was quick with his anger in cutting her off, “and who’s fault is that?”

Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Please, Morgan. I hate how I left things with you guys, but, right now, my priority is this case. So, if you could all put your feelings about me aside for the sake of our jobs, that would be great.” Morgan let out a scoff at her words, rolling his eyes and turning back to the whiteboard at the end of the room.

She made eye contact with Hotch, her eyes becoming watery at Morgan’s reaction to her presence. He didn’t seem all too different in his sentiment towards her, making her feel even worse.

“Alright, here’s what we have so far,” Hotch said. It was going to be a long night.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

As the days wore on, the tension between her and the rest of the team grew. They kept things professional, and Penelope and Emily were nicer than the rest in accepting her back, but it was still a challenge. She understood why they felt how they felt, but, still, it broke her heart. Even worse, she tried being friendly with Hotch but he wouldn’t even acknowledge her outside of discussing the profile.

It was late at night, most of the team had gone back to their hotels, leaving Hotch and Y/N working by themselves. Her eyes kept wandering to him, her thoughts consumed by having him so close to her again. Yet, he continued to ignore her.

“How’s Jack?” She asked, attempting to make conversation whilst they went over old case files.

“He’s fine.”

“How’s the rest of the team? I’ve missed them a lot. And you, of course. But-”

“They’re doing alright.” The finality in his tone was making her hopes fall like the petals of a rose fall over time.

“That’s good. What about Haley? How’s she doing?”

“Haley’s dead. She was killed by an unsub.” At that, her head snapped up.

“Oh my God, Hotch, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

He still didn’t look up at her from the papers scattered on the table. “How could you have? You left.”

His words cut deep. Her eyes grew teary for what felt like the fifth time that day. “Hotch, I had to.”

At that, he finally looked up at her. His eyes were hard as stone as he said, “no, you didn’t. And even if you felt that way, you could have told us. I had to explain to everyone else that you left and weren’t coming back, Y/N. You were a part of this family and wouldn’t even answer our texts and calls.” No, his words didn’t just cut deep, they burned. Upon seeing her tears fall, he seemingly decided that was a conversation not worth having. “Let’s just focus on the case.” But, like that night in the restaurant, she stood up and left him at the table.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The next day was no different. Spencer and Morgan refused to talk to her, Hotch was cold as ice when addressing her, JJ was hesitant anytime she had to speak with her, and Emily and Penelope were trying their best to dissipate some of the tension in the room.

It all seemed to boil over when she suggested that her and Morgan go over to the last bombing site and see what they could find.

“No,” he said.

The room was so quiet, you could hear a hairpin drop. “What?” she asked, mostly because she couldn’t believe that he shut her down like that.

“No,” he repeated. At that point, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, Morgan, I get you’re upset with me. But we’re here to do our jobs. And, you have zero right to treat me like I don’t matter just because you’re upset.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N. You left us! You were a crucial part of this team and you left us. Without even an explanation. Nothing! So, don’t come in here expecting everything to be the same as it was because it’s not.”

“I had to leave!” She exclaimed. “I couldn’t take being around you guys after everything that happened!” Tears were streaming down her face. Her throat burned from the lump in it. Her heart sank with the weight of Morgan’s hatred for her.

“Nothing happened, Y/N!” He yelled as he stepped closer to her. “You just up and left!”

“Damn it, Morgan, I was in love! What was I supposed to do?” That grabbed the attention of the others. “You might not have known it, but… but, me and Hotch had just broken up, and I couldn’t be around him anymore. I just couldn’t.” Her sobs racked her body as she finally admitted what she couldn’t those two years ago. Morgan seemed to finally understand. And Hotch? Hotch just stood there, staring at her with the usual expression which occupies his face.

She hated it. She hated the pitiful stares from the team. She hated the way she cracked under the pressure. She hated the way she cried in front of them. But, most of all, she hated how all those feelings she had buried deep down in a dungeon of sadness had broken out and swam up to the surface.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

After everything blew over, Y/N decided enough is enough. She was done trying to work with the BAU, so, she went to investigate some tips on her own.

Her interest was piqued at an anonymous tip that claimed that the terrorist group’s leader was living in a house a few blocks over. She knew she shouldn’t go over there alone, but she it wasn’t like she could ask the team to go with her, they practically hated her for everything that went down.

The house was dark when she arrived. She knocked on the front door multiple times, and, after no answer, she found it to be unlocked. Drawing her gun, she went in. It was clear. As she suspected, it was a dummy tip. She let out a frustrated sigh as she stepped out of the house. They were no closer to catching the bombers than they were when they started. Walking down the front porch steps, she heard a loud boom, and everything went black.

#aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #criminal minds masterlist #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #agent hotchner

220 notes · View notes

rebeliz7 · 1 month

Text

The Transporter

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Count: 2262

…

You were screwed.

You had two rules, two unbreakable rules. Two rules that have allowed you to survive for as long as you have in your line of work.

The first one was to never ask any unnecessary questions. Your job was simple. You transported packages, no matter what it was, no matter how far you had to go or how long it’d take you to get it to its destination.

You’ve gained quite a reputation because of that first rule, and you were never short on job offers because of it. People valued your work policy, because they valued their privacy.

You were, what the kids would call these days, a delivery person and that was the essence of what you did, only you mobilized very expensive and more often than not dangerous packages.

Your clients--were not good people, but that was not your problem. Of course you suspected it but to be quite honest, you never expected to be caught by the Avengers on your way back home after a well done job.

Long story short, they did catch you and they dropped you in a dark cell for months, and that was alright, you weren’t afraid because you didn’t know anything besides the addresses where you dropped off your packages.

You knew nothing about the packages you delivered, you never peaked and the only question that always interested you when a new job came along was, where do I take it?

“You ready to talk?” The Captain asks from across the table, and you grin at her. They’ve been doing this everyday for the last couple of months.

Each morning you’re taken to an interrogation room, where a new avenger is always waiting for you.

“What do you want to talk about today, love?” You ask her, and she pins you down with a hard stare.

This one lacks patience, but after months of answering the same questions with the truth and nothing but the truth, you do try to spice things up a bit every once and awhile. If only to keep yourself sharp.

“You do realize that you’re never getting out of here if you don’t give us something, right?” She asks, and you lean back to rest against the back of the chair.

“What do you want to know?” You ask her, if only to keep the conversation flowing. Every answer that you could have provided, you already have and they must know it too.

“Who hired you to pick up the suitcase from the airport?”

Oh, the infamous suitcase!

You knew that job was way too easy to be a good thing. It took you an hour to get it done. Easiest and fastest two million you’ve ever made.

“I got a text. I told them my fee. I got a deposit and I asked where I needed to take the suitcase. I dropped the suitcase, and that was it.” You recite the same thing that you always recite, and she glares harder.

“You didn’t ask who was hiring you? Or why did they need the suitcase at that building?”

“Rule number one: Don’t ask questions that don’t concern me.” You tell her and her glare intensifies, if that’s even possible.

“You know that doesn’t erase the fact that you’re an accomplice in a terrorist attack, right?”

That damned suitcase.

“I offer a service. I deliver packages. That’s all I do. Would you call the pizza guy that delivered in the same building before me an accomplice too?”

Her fists glow with dangerous intensity then, and in the blink of an eye you find yourself being pushed against the wall after she hits you with a blast.

…

You wake up in your cell hours later with a massive headache and every inch of your body hurting, so you quickly close your eyes again.

You refuse to fully wake up when you’re in this much pain.

…

The next morning you’re awoken by the sound of your door being opened, and you sit up slowly. Your hand flies to your side as a stabbing pain makes you wince when you move, and you curse under your breath.

They’ve never laid a finger on you before, and you wonder if they’re finally about to try to beat the answers out of you, not that you have any.

“You pissed off the Captain.” A guard shakes his head, a mocking grin on his face as he looks at you. “Aren’t you tired? Just give them what they want.”

“Are you supposed to be talking to me?” You ask him, and he shrugs his shoulders before handing you a fresh towel and a change of clothes.

“Shower. You’re in for a new session in twenty.”

He leaves and with a lot of trouble, you do as he says.

…

The moment you enter the interrogation room you feel like you might pass out again, which reminds you of your second rule.

Rule number two: Never fall for someone involved in the deliveries. This rule applies, of course, to the Avengers who apprehended you too.

“You okay?” Wanda Maximoff asks, as an involuntary groan leaves your lips when you sit down.

You kind of like it when she’s the one in charge of your interrogation for the day, but today you feel like dying and not fully up to appreciate her company.

“Of course.” You smile, as you press your hand against your bruised ribs and you struggle to find a comfortable position to sit in. God, you feel like you’re not getting enough air into your lungs.

“What did Carol do?” She asks you with a frown on her forehead, and you try to smile again.

She’s attractive even when she’s frowning, which is totally unfair and completely distracting.

“Broke a few laws, I’m sure.” You can’t breathe properly and you swallow, if only to try to mask the pain you’re currently in.

“Does anything feel broken? Were you taken to medical?” She asks, as she stands up and you close your eyes.

“I don’t know.” You answer and when you try to move, the pain that envelops you is so massive that you become dizzy where you sit.

“Not even a painkiller.” You hear her murmur, before you stop fighting against so much pain and tiredness.

You fall to the ground, the hit making the pain you were already feeling a hundred times worse.

Wanda raises her voice and while she rushes to your side, you surrender to the darkness.

…

The next time you wake up, you do it in a slightier more comfortable bed than the one in your cell.

“I didn’t even touch her!” You hear the unmistakable voice of Carol Danvers yell, and you’re tempted to huff, but you know that would only make you cry out in pain. No, she didn’t need to touch you to almost break you.

“Her ribs are bruised. She passed out because of excruciating pain!” Wanda exclaims back, and you finally open your eyes.

You’re in the medical-bay and your eyes immediately fall on Wanda’s furious little face. Still attractive, that one.

“She’s a criminal,” Carol argues and you watch as Wanda’s fists begin to glow red with the midst of her powers.

“She’s a human being and you crossed a line.” Wanda tells her, and you’re caught staring at her face again.

She looks positively pissed, and you’re pretty sure that you’ve never seen a woman more beautiful than she is.

“I agree,” Steve Rogers says as he walks inside the room as well. “Did you notice she’s awake?” He asks, his eyes trained on you.

“Hey, hi.” You smile and Wanda rushes to your side, or you think that she does.

God! You feel so woozy and nothing really hurts, and you think that maybe you’re a little bit high on painkillers. Just maybe.

“How you feeling?” Wanda asks you and you look at her, and you can’t help but---but feel.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur and her eyes widen. “Really, you are.”

She blushes and her eyes show nothing but panic as she looks at Steve, who is smiling goofily before letting out a breath.

“Painkillers?” He asks, and Wanda nods.

“Maybe something to help her sleep?” Wanda asks the doctor in the room, and when a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips, you smile back.

So beautiful.

…

You wake up with a start and a sharpening pain on your side. You’re in a much different room than the last one. You’re not in your cell, and you’re not in the medical bay either.

No, this is a much nicer room with a big fluffy bed and a huge flat screen hanging on the wall.

You’re about to stand up when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” you confusedly call out and the door opens slowly to reveal Wanda on the other side. “Hey.”

“Can I come in?” She asks and you nod, still confused. “You should be laying down. Minimal physical effort. Doctor’s orders.”

You nod, now feeling a little suspicious but you take her advice and lay down again. At least you can breathe a bit better now, and the pain isn’t as blinding as it was the last time you woke up.

“Care to explain?” You ask, as you struggle to grab the blanket.

“Here, let me.” She takes the blanket, and pulls it over your body before sitting down on the edge of the mattress, close to your legs.

She’s wearing an oversized light blue sweater that makes her look all kinds of comfy and you’re caught staring at her.

God! She really is the most adorable superhero ever. The most attractive one too.

“What Carol did was wrong,” she says and you roll your eyes playfully.

“I was being an ass. I shouldn’t have provoked her like that. ”

“She crossed a line. We don’t hit people in our interrogation rooms. We don’t torture prisoners. That’s not what we stand for.”

“I’ve been telling you guys the truth from the beginning. I know nothing about the packages I delivered. My lack of interest in the content of those packages is what kept me in business for so long in the first place.”

“I know,” she says it so casually that you instantly become suspicious. “We don’t make it a habit of reading people’s minds either. That being said, I did read yours yesterday when you were unconscious.”

You chuckle nervously, and immediately wince at the slight pain that it shoots through you with the action. If she was in your head---then she knows you’ve been crushing on her for a while now.

“I only did it because an idea occurred to us and we needed to be sure that you were telling the truth, before we did anything.”

“They call you the Scarlet Witch, y’know?” You tell her, and she grins at you.

You’re distracted, your mind is still trying to process the fact that she read your mind and she probably knows every single thing about you, and your attraction towards her.

“I know,” she softly says and your eyes stray towards her lips. God! It’s so unfair how attractive she is and how easily she can distract you with just her face.

“Natasha has been studying your profile,” she continues. “You do more than just deliver.”

“Natasha Romanoff?” You ask with a start, and she nods. “She’s been studying my profile?”

Natasha Romanoff is a legend, to put it simply, but she never interrogated you. Not once.

You’ve admired her since forever, and every single fighting stance that you’ve mastered, you’ve done it because you spent the majority of your free time studying footage of her fights caught on camera.

“She’s impressed,” Wanda tells you. “She believes that you have potential, and so do I.”

Sometimes trouble follows you and the packages, that’s why you’re always prepared, that’s why you know how to stand you own in a fight.

“Are you offering me a job?” You ask her jokingly but she doesn’t laugh, instead she gives you a look that leaves you breathless. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“I was a prisoner yesterday.” You remind her and she nods, an open and stupidly alluring grin tugging at her lips.

“You don’t have to pretend with me. I’ve been in your head, remember?” She tells you, and you feel your cheeks heating up with a blush.

“That’s a total violation, y’know?”

“It is and I’m sorry for doing it.” She apologizes, and you frown.

She’s good. Too good.

“So you know about my deep desire to quit the delivering world, and join the side of good?”

“I do.” She nods, perhaps amused.

“And you also know that I’ve been crushing on you since the day we met?”

“About that,” she apologetically starts and you panic.

“What?”

“You were really high on painkillers, and you might have exposed yourself about that in front of the Captains.”

“What?” You panic and when you rush to move, the pain shooting through you forces you to lay down again.

“Easy,” she tells you kindly. “For now you just have to focus on getting better. Carol will drop by to apologize. For the record, she was not having a good day that day.”

“Neither were my ribs,” you tell her and she laughs.

“There will be a meeting when you can leave this bed. A new life awaits you.”

“About the crushing thing?” You ask when she stands up to leave, and the smile she sends your way makes you smile in a daze, because she’s just so beautiful.

“We can talk about that too when you’re feeling better.”

You’re still smiling after she’s gone. You only had two rules to do your job, and the first one might have ended up saving you from a lifetime in prison, but the second one? You never stood a chance against the second one.

…

Feedback is much appreciated.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff

330 notes · View notes

lazywrites · 13 days

Note

Heyaaa i have a request of a Kurt x reader about a reader who's kind of a punk but has a soft spot for him

You are one lucky anon, i had something like that in the drafts already, she's not a punk, she's a total villain but still.

Nemesis

Kurt wagner x fem!reader (3.5k) Meet cute, reader is a villain

You were not looking for any forgiveness or any friends, your only purpose in Genosha was rebuilding and serving your fellow mutants, few are brave enough to look you in the eye, until one man takes the day to challenge you.

The budding region of genosha was still a work in progress, after the X-men and their lot left the island it was up to all the mutants on the region to simply find their own way to rebuild and organize as always, you came to the island only after you were sure they had left, no need to be getting caught up on their affairs, they would not be pleased with your presence around them either.

You relationship with the X-men and humans in general was shaky to say the least, it was very clear to you that after the last battle you had fought alongside Magneto, and against them no less, you would not be welcomed with open arms.

You had been severely disappointed in both Magnus and Xavier after the whole fiasco involving asteroid M, it was utterly ridiculous letting Magneto simply rope you into helping raise the asteroid only for him to drop it back into the sea anyways, it seemed like there was no safe place for mutants after that, not that you would have been welcomed by anyone, you were not even welcome in Genosha for a while until you proved that your gift would be suitable for rebuilding and moving the structures as the appointed leaders desired.

More than a normal outcast, you were labeled a terrorist and feared even by other mutants for simply refusing to beg and plead for humanity’s sympathy, if fighting for the liberation of your people was terrorism the sure, terrorist, villain, it doesn’t matter.

There was no denying your reputation was intimidading, but your control over gravity was the building crew’s best asset if they wished to finish this rail link system by the end of the week, you stood above the tunnel you were helping the workers to dig, right at the Apex of a crane and far away from the reach of anyone else, you looked down at the work site and tried to visualize what it would look like in a few hours, perhaps you could find a way to speed up the process even more. But then, you’d have to go down and speak to those pesky engineers, no matter, best to just stick to the outline they gave you, that’s what you were thinking until a peculiar noise sounded behind you.

You turn back only to see some kind of dark cloud, slowly dissipating, and there stood a stranger grasping onto the metal bars to keep steady, perhaps he hadn’t considered the height before impulsively coming up to talk to you, he steadies himself with both hands and feet and lifts his head to stare up at you with intense yellow eyes.

“Oh my, oh, this is high, Mein Gott, i did not consider the Wind either” Its not that you were startled by him in any way, but the way he came up so high only to speak to you was slightly intimidating if you had to admit, and you were not exactly in the mood to talk, so taking a step back was only natural.

It would have been a bad move if it were anyone else, but still you let yourself fall back a little, if only to teach this nosy stranger a little lesson.

He lunges foward while still trying to keep himself steady in the bars “No, no no, hold on, be careful my friend” He stops reaching and waving at you once he realizes you feet are not touching the bars at all, you had been floating all along “Oh, that’s good, umm...” He bends over again to get a grip on the bars.

“And you are?” You arch your eyebrow and speak in a rushed tone, wanting to shoo him away as fast as possible so you can go back to contemplating the massive tunnels you had yet to help dig on the ground.

He steadies himself once more, the Wind is blowing particularly Strong today “Kurt Wagner, at your service, you are very famous around here” that sure surprises you, you’ll admit.

“Oh, am i now?”

After many years playing the villain you could confidently say you were never nervous around anyone, but his intense and bright eyes felt like they were studying your every expression, practically glued to your face since the first moment you locked eyes with this man, this time it takes a conscious effort not to shy away.

“Yes, i’ve heard all sorts of things, that you were involved in most of the construction around here, truly impressive” it’s getting harder and harder not to break away from his stare, you try to match it’s intensity, even if his eyes hold no malice there is no way for you to know about his intentions, he continues.

“I’ve just joined the council” he finally breaks the eye contact and you hold back a sigh of relief “Was surprised then, when they spoke of you, how you helped build the very room they were standing on”

“so?”

He smiles up at you, you have to admit he has an endearing smile, a wholesome sort for sure, definely not Hellfire club, you could tell they wouldn’t hire someone like him to try and recruit you.

“Haha” His laugh is not humorous, its more awkward than anything, now it seems that your stare is burning a whole through him “I simply wanted to see if for myself, from what i had known of you before this is unexpected, miss Nemesis.” So he even knows your alias, that earns him a smirk from you.

“Let me guess, you’re with the X-men?” his eyes widen just a fraction “Here to arrest me, hero?” You can see him trying to keep up the smile but now it’s more awkward than anything, you enjoy seeing him squirm.

His tail, which was mostly curved down behind his back to aid with balance swishes back and fourth in a gesture you can only assume is slightly nervous and he nods his head enough for you to understand. But you don’t exactly feel like fighting anyone especially at this time of the day “Don’t worry, i am here simply to contribute.”

He shakes off the awkward air pretty well, but the tail still betrays that he is nervous around you “Well, i simply wanted to see for myself, don’t worry, i am not so judgmental.” He tilts his head to think for a moment “Still i must say my friend, this is a very unsafe place to work, perhaps we can chat somewhere else?”

For the first time in this day, perhaps in the whole month, you try to be nice to someone you’re talking to, making an effort to smile down at Kurt, and he smiles back “Fine, i’ll get you down”

You know that the man has at the very least some very good mobility and could get himself down even if it took some time, but he’s one of the X-men it seems, and if you’re not going to fight him you will at least mess with him a little, before he can properly answer you fly towards him and wrap both of your arms around his torso “Ready?” you say it right next to his pointy ear and feel his body shudder, it seems cruel but making people squirm is your favorite pastime.

“Ah, Miss Nemesis i could get us down as well, you-“ you cut him off before he can suggest anything “Nonsense, i won’t let you fall, hero.” He squirms again in your embrace “and a member of the council deserves preferential treatment, yes?”

And then you fall, you both fall.

But of course you can fly, no sane person would climb up 95 meters without being able to fly, hopefully Kurt also had that notion in his head.

You expected him to be screaming and clinging onto you terrified like the other poor souls you have subjected to this before, but he seems to be enjoying himself, much to your surprise he even lets go of your back to feel the Wind in his hand and smiles wide at you, you can’t help but smile with him, but only for a moment, you have an image to mantain.

Before you can both reach the floor by a few meters or so you gently float down and nudge him towards the ground so he can step down first, he’s still chuckling softly under his breath when he looks up at you “While i disagree that council members should receive better treatment, i can’t truly say that it isn’t fun.” And that earns him another smirk from you.

“So, now that things are as you desired, will you tell me what you really want, Mr.Wagner?”

He’s awkward again, seems not even a moment of levity is enough to loosen his tongue, he clears his throat and runs a hand through his now disheveled hair, which seems to be perpetually in shadow.

“Ah, yes, i am here for the communities of Faith and thought to invite you, you know...” You don’t know, while you had a few encounters with religion, Human religion, you were never faithful or pious and in the times you’ve tried to be, it never ended well for you. That piques your curiosity more than anything he’s said or done so far, you and Faith in the same phrase.

“Invite me where?” You sharply question, to you it seems like he’s going to turn around and mock you at any moment, and you ready yourself for it.

“To our first gathering i hope, it might seem strange to you my friend but your work is greatly appreciated by, well, by most of us here.” and as angry as you’d like to be, as much as you thought you would have to threaten to crush his head you can’t bring himself to, that endearing fanged smile is back on his face and his eyes are once again burning a whole through you.

“And you want me join your sermon or something?” you scoff at him

“Precisely!”

“wait, are you the actual priest?” You arch your eyebrow, the sermon comment was more ironic than anything.

“Well, in certain ways, its more complicated than Worth explaining my friend.” You can tell that your curiosity is contributing to his expectation, he really seems to want you to go for some reason, you try to think of a way to shut him down without being so rough.

“Well that won’t work, joining in with a crowd of pious fools won’t be enough to get me into heaven, hero.”

He raises his head even more and looks you right in the eye, his smile is now tight lipped as if in defiance of you. “The only fools are the ones unwilling to listen miss Nemesis, anyone can be redeemed, they only have to work for it.” And you know he is talking about you.

“Now i know what you will try to say, but you have always cared for your people haven’t you?”

That softens you somewhat, few truly acknowledge all you’ve done for mutantkind, save for perhaps Magneto, and that is why you were willing to aid him in his schemes, even if they rarely pay off.

“I have? I-“He interrupts you once more.

“So you will see, that all the hard work you’ve put in this city is paying off, we’ll meet on that empty building right beside the fountain, it would be great if you... you know” And you sincerely consider it, perhaps it would not be so bad, if only to see this strange man again.

“At 8PM, you’ll know it when you see it.”

“A little late isn’t it?” You question, only to divert his attention from the fact you don’t have anything clever to say.

“It’s the villain special” he narrows his eyes and his smile turns smug after saying that, and then he’s gone in a purple cloud that looks surprisingly beautiful, but with a somewhat unpleasant smell, leaving you stunned.

What a little shit.

You do end up going, and not going at the same time. The rail link takes so much work that when you reach the fountain his ‘sermon’ is almost over.

From what you’ve deduced it was mostly an introduction from him as the new neighbourhood friend or something, you recognize one of the buildings you’ve helped lay the foundation to, well lit with candles and full of pious fools just like you had imagined. You wouldn’t dare going in, with your current uniform that made you look intimidating and powerful now dirty and opaque from all the soot you had to raise up, this was a hard day of work, a few others passing by the fountain stop to look at you as you float down and approach one of the building’s windows.

You press your hands against the glass and peer inside, there are so many different mutants in there, all seem to be engaging in friendly conversations with one another, they seem at Peace, it’s... curious.

Kurt is there too, surrounded by people, they seem to be paying attention to what he’s saying, every word, just like you did earlier today when he called you a fool, he seems to truly have a way with words. The weight of the day’s work seems to finally catch up to you and you decide to give in and finally sit, leaning your back against the window until you are under it sitting against the wall, and for that moment you understand the fools inside, the athmosphere is peaceful and it makes you almost drowsy.

You close your eyes and listen to the gentle murmurs inside until you lose track of time. When you finally come to they are all walking out, or were, the first few that have walked out stop dead in their tracks to point at you and whisper among themselves “Is that Nemesis?” ,”i had no idea people like her even believe in God.”, “Don’t say it like that, she’s done a lot of good.” “Done a lot of bad too”.

Even under their scrutiny you don’t bend, better to just lift your head and look them in the eyes fearless as always. You built the sidewalk and you’ll sleep on it if you want Dammit, that is until Kurt comes out.

“And Meine Freunde you all can come talk to me any time and-“ he cuts himself off when realizing no one is paying attention to him “Oh” he looks at you with wide eyes, as if he had forgotten he asked you to come, or was surprised you did.

Perhaps its all the work but you find that at that moment his stare is almost unbearable, the longer he stands and looks at you with all the others the worse you feel, this was definely a mistake, should you have simply strolled in as you would any other place? Or maybe you shouldn’t have come at all.

This kind of place, these kind of people, they’re not for you. So you take off and fly away

And away, until you can no longer see the glow of the candles, you land at a random rooftop next to a clearing and face the city, the city you helped build, the same city that wouldn’t really accept you, maybe if you had been more outspoken they’d understand where you’re coming from, but there are some things you will always be unable to change, you sit at the edge and stare for a few minutes.

That same pesky noise and smell from earlier today flood your senses, and you simply sigh.

“Come to get me down like i’m a cat in a tree?”

“If anything, you were the one getting me down from high places, Meine Liebe.” And you know exactly what he just called you, when you risk a glance at him he almost blends in with the night sky except for the eyes, and he sits down at the edge with you.

“I must admit, you are pretty good at your job, they seemed happy.” You don’t look at him anymore, you just say it and look down at your muddy boots.

“My-Uh, Thank you, i thought you weren’t there, thought that perhaps my finishing line wasn’t very enticing to you.”

You almost laugh at that.

“No, it was exactly when i was sold, maybe start with that next time” You can tell that he’s turned to look at you by the faint yellow glow his eyes emit, he’s staring again, what’s with him and your face?

“So...”

“So?”

“Why didn’t you come in?” He asks like it would have been the easiest thing in the world and you just have to scoff at that again.

“That would have been something, should i have let you baptize me as well?” as much as you would hate to admit it out loud, you do enjoy the back and fourth with him, even if its not the most interesting conversation you two could be having.

He’s still just staring at you, waiting for the confession as if you presence at his little event had been a promise, you are not a pious woman and have never been, you don’t need forgiveness.

Never asked for it.

“You heard them, that sort of thing is not for me, this is the path i’ve taken in my life, i will not lament now.” You open your eyes after just realizing you had closed them “it was nice, seeing them all together, back in my brotherhood times i heard so many complaints, about how they didn’t fit in, how the humans would just-“acknowledging this leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and it’s not your place to complain anymore, that was a long time ago “I don’t know, treat us like we’re the demons.”

You can feel the faint glow of his eyes pointed somewhere else, so now it’s your turn to look at him, and his turn to face his feet “They’d stare at me too” and you can imagine that, in your eyes he’s incredibly handsome but to a human? They have no taste anyway.

“And you managed to forgive them?” He looks up again, now you’re both face to face.

“Who?”

“Humans, you’re one of the ‘good’ guys after all” and he smiles at you once again, when you look for long enough you find that his smile is almost catlike in a way you cannot yet define. “They must have been hard on you”

“Ah, that they were” he pauses for a moment “Judge not, and you will not be judged, condemn not, and you will not be condemned, forgive, and you will be forgiven.”

He’s managed to soften your heart for the second time this day.

“So, it’s their loss i guess” you sigh and continue “I can’t say i have much forgiveness in my heart for them”

“Are you open to it?” And you sigh again, not knowing if it’s because of him or not.

“Someday i might be, i have a reputation to keep up with you know” And he’s still smiling at you even now, his face is so endearing it makes your lips quirk up as well.

“I’m getting the impression your reputation is changing, at least around this city, miss Nemesis.”

“It sure will change if i keep sleeping on sidewalks and attending sermons” Now you start feeling playful, swinging your legs back and fourth in the air “How did you find me anyway?”

He leans back and reaches for something behind him, smiling at you with his fangs in full display, almost childlike and shows you a pair of binoculars, You simply scoff and turn away from him “unbelievable.” and again for good measure "ridiculous."

“It was quite difficult to keep up with you as well, Nemesis.”

“Y/N.” your turn to him once again

“Huh, y-yes, miss Y/N.” His eyes have widened again making the light even more intense right on you, they seem like two lanterns in the night.

“Can’t have you just calling me that all the time, it’s losing the edge, you know.”

You try and look up at the stars but his eyes are still on you, distracting you, making you nervous.

“And i quite prefer your real name, it suits you much better if you ask me” He seems to be very pleased just from learning something that simple, maybe he thinks he’s fixing you, you’ll let him dream for now.

“Will you be there next time?” he questions

“Nemesis won’t, but maybe Y/N will.” He laughs at that, more from contentment than amusement.

“I’ll be waiting at the door, we should definely get down, i think someone lives up here, meine liebe.” You shouldn’t let him get away with it, usually you’d threaten any random man who tried to refer to you like that, but he is far from ordinary or random.

“What? You want me to fly you down again?” You ask, not really expecting him to agree.

“Yes!”

You turn towards him and let your face betray that you are somewhat bewildered, he’s looking at you like your childhood puppy when you offered it a walk. Logically he only came up there to 'comfort you' at least in his mind, you knew it wasn't like that, but it would be of no use ruining the moment for him.

“I-You-Ugh, fine, I guess you are up here for me after all” and you stand up, waiting for him to follow you, you float upwards and lower your hand for him.

He grasps your hand firmly, his hand almost fully encompassing yours, and it is also surprisingly warm, must be the chill of the night air.

You think.

I'll definely write more villain reader, if anyone has any headcanon requests for a villain with Kurt i'm all ears.

#kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #x men x reader #x men headcannons #nightcrawler #Lazy writes #marvel x reader

148 notes · View notes

polakina · 4 months

Text

tell me your secrets

pairing: valeria garza x reader

rating: explicit

outline: valeria wants information. you want to be out of her compound. she likes your attitude and decides to take this interrogation as a one on one

warnings: smut, fingering, oral (fem recieving), kidnapping, interrogation, spanking, flirting, enemies to...fuck buddies??, thigh riding

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

a/n: i love this woman. she's got such a hold on me i had to write for her

masterlist

The restraints were cutting deep into your wrists as you struggled to free yourself from them. It was such a stupid move. Arguing with El Sin Nombre’s men during a rally was not your best move. But you were a freedom fighter. You couldn’t stand the way they swaggered around with their smug faces, pointing their guns at innocent bystanders, looking for any information on where their resources were taken to.

You had them. Well, your team had them. You’d caught wind of a shipment for El Sin Nombre on the west side of Las Almas. So before the resources could be picked up by the team, you’d slipped in and taken everything, keeping it in a safehouse far from Las Almas.

One of El Sin Nombre’s men had recognised you from your previous encounters with them, and his emotion overtook him and he’d held you captive. The truck ride felt like hours, being bounced around in the back of the vehicle with a bag over your head. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. Or if you were ever coming back.

You heard voices, muffled by the bag over your head which was starting to itch your scalp. It was driving you insane. A few hours you had been sat in this chair, men coming in to question you and leaving enraged when you didn’t speak a word. Not a word had come out of your mouth since you’d gotten out of that truck and been hauled to this room. Or corridor. Or whatever the fuck these boys had put you in.

Trying to untie the knots roped around your wrist, your fingers started to cramp and you cursed out into the darkness, the ties too tight for you to wriggle out of them.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you heard to your right. A woman’s voice echoed through the room. “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing that.” Footsteps made their way over to you and light seared into your retinas as the bag was harshly pulled off your face. You shook your head, moving the fair out of your eyes, slowly adjusting to the room you were captive in. “I’ve heard about you, you know?” The woman came round to stand in front of you, crouching so she was at your eye level.

You maintained eye contact, showing no emotion, giving nothing away. You couldn’t afford to. If she saw one crack in your facade, she had you in her grasp. “So what’s your name, then, hmm? I know what the freedom fighters call you on the street, but what should I call you?”

Silence. Utter silence filled the room. But it didn’t faze her like the other men. She didn’t get angry, or slap you, or storm out of the room. She just smirked. It seemed more unnerving than anything else.

“Not a big talker? Fine. Let me start this conversation,” she walked around the chair, standing directly behind you. You had no idea what she was doing until you felt her fingers curl into the hair at the scalp, pulling your head back towards the ceiling forcefully. You winced slightly, but said nothing. “You stole our resources, taking them from right under our noses in the middle of the night. Now we have no guns, no ammo, nothing to fight off the terrorists that plague our land. Now we can’t find your men. They’ve gone underground. And nobody’s talking. Not even civilians. You got them wrapped around your finger, don’t you, princesa?” Her face was so close to yours.

You’d seen a lot of El Sin Nombre’s men around in your time, but always under her command. She led them, they were on her orders. The times you’d come into contact with her were never pleasant. She loved toying with you whenever you had stood up to her. Not many people liked to challenge her authority, but you took pride in it. She admired it. She wouldn’t admit it turned her on a little to have someone rile her up, someone she could put in their place. Especially you.

“So now we have you in custody, your men hiding most likely at one of your safehouses which we can’t track down. You’re a smart woman. Maybe we should have hired you instead of the assholes we’ve got wearing our colours.”

You smiled. They hadn’t found your men. They had nothing. They were clutching at straws they barely had a grasp on to begin with. “Tell me where I can find my resources, and I’ll let you go.”

You considered it. For the smallest inch of a second, you seriously considered it. But you didn’t want a war to break out in your town. Nobody could survive that kind of hit.

She released your hair from her grasp, running her fingers through it gently before stepping away, coming back into your field of view. “Either you talk to me, or I let those boys back in on orders to slice you up until you talk. I don’t think you’ll survive for very long after that, honey.” The woman went and stood by the door, her hand on the metal handle. “The choice is yours. But I can promise you right now, I’m much better company.”

Hearing the creak in the handle as she pushed down on it, unlocking it, you stopped her.

“We don’t want a war breaking out. Las Almas is crumbling enough on it’s own. We don’t need to bring fucking genocide into play as well.”

She turned to face you once again.

“Is that what you think we’re doing? Starting a war.” The woman leaned against the door, arms crossed. “We never wanted one either. That’s why we need our shipment. To protect Las Almas and its people.”

“Didn’t feel like you were protecting its people when those assholes out there tore the south side of the city to shreds. Do you even know how many bodies we found? Innocent bodies. All gunned down by El Sin Nombre’s men for no reason.”

She looked down at her feet, rolling her shoulders back. “Those men were dealt with,” she said softly. “El Sin Nombre never gave out that south side order. Those men acted on their own backs. You’re talking to the person who personally executed those men for what they did that day. We don’t want a war, princesa. We want to protect our own. Our people. This city.”

“So patriotic,” you smirked, rolling your eyes. “I almost believe you.”

She walked over to you, leaning down until her face was inches from yours. “You should believe me. I’m the one person here who can get you out alive.”

You leaned closer, a certain fire in your eyes that she liked. “I want my men alive. If I give you the location of my shipment, then that’s all you take. If I hear whispers that you’ve taken out any of my men, I’ll come back here and rain hellfire down on you, I can fucking promise you that.”

She chuckled slightly, surprising you. “Even held captive, you show no fear. I like you. I give you my word that none of your men will be injured.”

“Your word means nothing to me,” you said, cocking your head to the side. “I want your boss’ word.”

“My boss?”

“El Sin Nombre. I want his word.”

She smiled, nodding once. “What makes you think he’s a man?” She asked quietly, and it sent sparks flying in your brain. You’d been told that the boss was a man. Dangerous and vicious. But a woman? That felt even scarier to you. “My word is just as good as El Sin Nombre’s, I promise.”

You contemplated for a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Why would you want to know that?”

“Just in case your word isn’t as good as you say. I want to know the name of the woman who I’ll be coming back for to hold responsible.”

The woman stood up straight, but her hand drifted to your jaw, holding it tightly and tilting your face up to look at her. “Valeria. You call me Valeria.”

With her other hand she reached into her back pocket, a shimmer catching the light and you saw it was a knife in her hand. Valeria leaned over you, the knife drifting along your arm until it snagged suddenly, loosening the rope around your wrists, allowing blood to flow. “Follow me.” Valeria turned and opened the door to the small room, motioning for you to head through.

The map stretched across the entire expanse of the table, the whole of Las Almas territory and its neighbouring cities plastered on the paper. You leaned over it, eyes casting a glance over where your base camp was, where your safehouses were. From their notes, they were nowhere near your men. It made you smile.

“So?” Valeria sat in a chair, leaning back on two wooden legs as her feet were kicked up onto the table. “The shipment. Where can we find it.” You glanced at her before looking back to the map. Taking a pen from the table, you circled an area on the map, out in the middle of the desert. From a glance, you wouldn’t think anything was even out there.

“You can find your shipment here. I have men on patrol in this area twenty-four-seven. So I expect to be able to contact them ahead of time so you don’t break out into a fucking bloodbath for no reason,” you asserted, tossing the pen back onto the table. Valeria smirked, standing up from where she was sat, marching over to you.

“Princesa, you’re not in a position to be making demands, okay?”

“I’m not your princesa.”

“Well, you won’t give me a name so you can deal with the name I give you. Besides,” her hand brushes away stray hairs on your cheek. “I like seeing the red in your cheeks when I call you it.”

You avoided eye contact, looking at the table, but she grabbed your face, her fingers digging into your cheeks as she forced you to look back at her. “Don’t be going all shy on me now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said through gritted teeth. You had felt heat on your cheeks every time she called you princesa. But you didn’t think she could actually see anything.

“You know, if you weren’t so hostile, we’d actually make a pretty good team. I like having something pretty to look at when I’m working,” she raised her eyebrows as your eyes met hers. “You don’t have to act so big and mighty around me. I’m not that scary.”

You laughed, your hand pulling her wrist away from your face, keeping a firm grip on it. “You act as though I’m scared of you. I can assure you, you don’t scare me.”

She hummed, turning the tables and grabbing your wrists in her hands instead, pushing you against the table. “I know. I like it. You got a fire in you, honey. I’m starting to like your company more and more every passing second.” She smiled, leaning in until her lips grazed your ear, her body pressed against yours. “Perhaps you should stay a little longer in ym compound.”

Your body was telling you to react in a different way to what your brain was screaming at you. You honestly didn’t know what to do. This interrogation had certainly gone down a different path than what you expected. “And why would I do that, Valeria?” From the past few months where you had challenged her men, challenged her, gotten up in her face about how she was ruining Las Almas and causing more problems than solving them, you’d never actually been this close. Nor had you ever felt so vulnerable in her presence.

“We’ve been dancing around each other for months. We’ve been at each other’s throats, fought on opposite sides. But there’s one thing you can’t deny,” she smiled against your ear as your breathing halted in your throat.

“And what’s that?” you asked, only able to muster it up in a whisper.

“That you like it. You like the confrontation between us. I’ve seen the way you look when I put you in your place.” She had you. The second she heard your breathing labour she knew she fucking had you.

You turned your face towards hers slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her teeth nipped your earlobe, trailing towards your neck.

“Hmm. You sure?” She coaxed, feeling your pulse quicken against her lips. “Because your body is telling me something else entirely.” her face came up to meet yours. She stood a little taller than you were, and the ends other hair tickled your cheeks. “Tell me I’m wrong. But don’t lie to my face in my own office.”

You couldn’t say anything. Saying no would be a lie in itself. Your lips parted slightly but no words came out. She smiled, her face inching closer to yours. “That’s what I thought.” Her lips found yours. Softly, but firmly slotting against yours in a kiss. Her body pressed against you felt her tongue part your lips further, exploring your mouth deftly. Valeria’s grip loosened around your wrists and moved to your waist, her fingers ghosting over your bare skin as your shirt lifted. You could have pulled away. You could have stopped this. But you didn’t want to. This already felt too good.

Valeria felt your hands come up to cup her cheeks, and she smiled into the kiss, pulling your bottom lip between her teeth. Your fingers drifted to her neck, pulling her impossibly closer to you. Her lips found your neck, sucking at the soft skin over your pulse. You couldn’t hide the small gasp that escaped your throat, making her chuckle softly. Not in a demeaning way. She liked that she made you feel good.

But her touch disappeared just as quickly as it came. She walked backwards, back to the couch opposite the desk, her fingers making quick work of the belt around her waist, letting it drop to the floor as she unbuckled it, pulling it through the loops. She kicked her boots off, nudging them to the side as she walked. “Still regretting staying?” She asked coyly, sitting in the chair, leaning back and spreading her legs.

“Not yet,” you replied, still leaning against the table.

“Then come here, princesa. I’m not finished with you yet.”

Slowly, you made your way over to the couch. She smiled up at you, one eyebrow cocked. You took the opportunity to lower yourself to your knees, knowing exactly what she wanted. You wanted it too. Your hands ghosted up her thighs as you leaned up to her. Your fingers unzipped her pants, pulling them down her legs as you found her lips with yours once more. Her skin was warm, like fire against your fingertips. Your mouth made its way south and you started at her knee, kissing softly at her skin until you made your way to her inner thigh.

Valeria watched you, looking down at you as your head inched closer to exactly where she wanted you. She lifted one leg over the arm of the sofa and let her head fall back as you pulled her underwear aside, gently ghosting your lips over her cunt.

You wasted no time, diving into her pussy, licking a stripe through her folds. She moaned softly, her hand finding your hair, pushing you closer to her cunt as you fucked her with your tongue. Valeria felt your finger glide up her cunt, dipping gently into her. You were teasing. She was having none of it.

“Keep fucking around and you will not like the punishment I give you, honey,” she said, her words like ice on her tongue. You pushed your finger deep inside, your tongue finding her clit, giving her the stimulation she needed. Lips closing around her clit, you sucked harshly at the sensitive little bud, your teeth grazing gently over it.

Her grip was so tight in your hair as she kept your head between your thighs, you wouldn’t be surprised if it bruised your scalp by morning. But you didn’t care. Your free hand wrapped around her thigh where her leg rested beside you, and you pulled it over your shoulder, caging yourself between her grip. She felt your fingers dig painfully into the supple flesh of her thigh, it made her gasp out into the otherwise empty room.

You added a second finger to the crevice of her cunt, and then a third. Valeria tensed around you as she felt your fingers curl against something devastating inside her. “Shit, princesa. You’re better than I-” her sudden moan cut off her sentence as your fingers quickened, thrusting deep and harshly inside her. You felt her thigh close around your head, her hand keeping a firm grip on your head as her quick breaths signalled her high coming to a peak. “Come on, honey. Make me cum. I know you can.”

Withone final thrust of your fingers, and the undying attention you gave to her clit, she felt her orgasm wash over her, her mouth hanging open and her eyes rolling back as she came on your fingers.

Her fingers released her grip on your hair as she came down from her high. You stayed between her thighs, keeping her legs pushed widely apart as you cleaned the mess between her thighs.

Valeria’s breathing slowed and became steadier as her muscles relaxed. Once you were satisfied, you looked up at her with glazed eyes. Her expression matched yours. Her cheeks were flushed and her pupils blown. “Atta girl,” she smiled, patting her bare thigh. You pushed yourself off her knees and stepped between her legs, but her foot pressed against your thigh as she cocked her head at you. “Take them off,” she gestured to your pants.

You rolled your eyes, smirking, but entirely compliant to her orders. Your shoes were kicked to the side, your pants on the floor within seconds, and you moved back towards her. But her foot came up against your thigh once more. “Take. Them. Off.” There was no room in negotiation in her voice, her tone was stern and cold. It sent a tingle down your spine.

Underwear hit the floor and you felt bare in front of her. Your shirt was just long enough to cover your ass, but not long enough to be able to leave it to the imagination. Her finger coaxed you closer to her and you moved to stand between her legs once again.

Valeria’s hands drifted up your thighs, gently pulling you onto her lap and her lips melted against yours, her kisses deep, rough, needy. She shifted your body so you were seated on her thigh, your cunt resting on the muscle beneath her skin. “Your turn now,” she whispered, her accent thick and heavy in her words.

Her hands cupped your ass, dragging your hips along her thigh. Your clit rubbed against her skin in such a perfect way with each roll of your hips. Soft gasps accumulated in your throat as she guided you where you sat, straddling her. “Such pretty noises, princesa,” she smiled up at you, her hands drifting upwards as your body moved on its own, wanting to reach its own high. Valeria pushed the shirt up over your head, tossing it over your head where it landed clumsily on the table. Her lips found your breasts, kissing and sucking at the sensitive flesh, your nipples gently grazed with her teeth.

The stimulation was turning you on even more, every part of your body receiving the attention it needed to draw your orgasm even closer. But it never felt enough. Just constantly on the cusp, never teetering over the edge. Valeria could see it in your eyes.

“Need a little more, honey?” Her tone sounded mocking, but you were so close that you didn’t even care. You just went along with it. You liked this side of her. “Aw pretty girl. I got you.” Her hands grabbed your ass again, slapping your ass cheek harshly as she hoisted you up onto your knees. One hand stayed on your ass, the other reaching in front of her to play between your thighs. She was less gentle than you were with her earlier, her fingers thrusting deep into your cunt without warning. But it was what you needed. You moaned and tilted your head back, your fingers digging into her shoulders, nails carving lines into her skin.

She moved at such a speed, the noises coming from your soaked pussy filling the room with its obscene sounds. Her thumb pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing tight circles against it until you felt your core clench and your thighs tense around her own.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you cried out. Valeria looked up at you, seeing the way your eyes crinkled shut, how you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Say please,” she whispered, her ministrations slowing and your coming high fading. “Beg me for it.”

You had no shame as you made eye contact with her, begging and pleading to reach your orgasm. She just smiled, knowing the control she had over you right in this moment. Your orgasm hit you hard, and you buried your face in her neck, her skin between your teeth as you came. She hissed at the pain, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as she’d expected. She rather enjoyed it.

Breathing some air into your lungs, your body finally started to relax, and your walls unclenched around her fingers, but she didn’t take them out. Not yet, anyway. Your juices soaked her fingers, dripping out to coat her hand, but Valeria didn’t mind.

A few minutes passed before either of you spoke. You leaned back, your face close to hers and she leaned up and kissed you softly.

“Perhaps you should call your team, let them know what’s going on,” Valeria smiled, the whole reason you were in this compound now coming back to her. You returned her smile, chuckling softly, pecking her lips once more.

“Yeah probably. Did you okay it with your boss, I assume?” You questioned, cocking your head. You realised she hadn’t left your side since the interrogation, she hadn’t had the time to discuss it with the boss.

But Valeria just laughed, her whole body shaking as she chuckled. “Oh, honey. There is no boss to go talk to.” Your expression screamed confusion, and it just made her smile and shake her head. She patted your ass as she leaned back against the couch. “You just fucked El Sin Nombre and got on your knees for her, which was so hot, by the way. I call the shots around here.”

Stunned. Shocked. It was the only way to explain how you felt right now. You were bare ass naked in the lap of a notorious cartel leader. “You’re serious?”

Valeria nodded in response, a smile playing at her lips.

“So call your boys and let them know. I’ll send my men to retrieve my resources. And who knows,” she tilted her head up, lips ghosting over yours. “This could be the start of a beautiful business partnership.”

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria mw2 #valeria x reader #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza cod #valeria garza x you #valeria garza smut #cod smut #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod #cod mw2

364 notes · View notes