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tallmantall · 1 year

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#JamesDonaldson On #MentalHealth - #Anxiety And Being Kind To Yourself

How self-compassion can help #parents (and anyone else) manage #anxiety This is an excerpt from The Anxiety Sisters Survival Guide: How You Can Become More Hopeful, Connected, and Happy, by Abbe Greenberg and Maggie Sarachek. When we say, “Be kind,” we’re not talking about being nice to others (although that’s always a good idea); we’re talking about being kind to yourself. This is no easy task — we are often much quicker to be kind to everyone else but ourselves. Recognizing this, Kristin Neff, a researcher and professor at the University of Texas at Austin (and with whom we were fortunate enough to have trained), developed the concept of self-compassion, which is giving ourselves the same kindness and understanding we would offer a friend who is experiencing difficulty. Typically, when we’re having a hard time, we tend to beat ourselves up about it. Our inner critics are all too eager to remind us how we’ve failed (once again): I feel like a terrible person because I always blow up at my #kids when I’m anxious. I let the worst parts of me take over. (Gillian, age 44) I really want to visit my son, but I am too afraid to make the drive. I feel like such a failure. (Reyna, age 55) Self-compassion is all about turning our inner critics into our inner advocates. Instead of reprimanding ourselves, self-compassion suggests we offer ourselves unconditional acceptance and supportive self- talk. For example, we can practice self- compassion by saying something like: “#Anxiety is a real struggle for me, and this has been really painful.” Self-compassion, as conceptualized by Dr. Neff, comprises three components: (1) self- kindness, (2) common humanity, and (3) mindfulness. We’ve already covered self-kindness, which is all about treating yourself gently and compassionately, as you would a good friend. Common humanity is the understanding that we all struggle with challenges and that none of us live a life without pain. Suffering is part of what it means to be human — nobody gets out unscathed. When we truly accept our common humanity, we realize how connected we all are. Our trials are not unique, and we are not alone. Self-compassion, then, allows us to transform a sense of #isolation into connectedness when we are suffering. Common humanity is such a valuable notion because we all know how lonely it is to live with an #anxietydisorder. #James Donaldson notes:Welcome to the “next chapter” of my life… being a voice and an advocate for #mentalhealthawarenessandsuicideprevention, especially pertaining to our younger generation of students and student-athletes.Getting men to speak up and reach out for help and assistance is one of my passions. Us men need to not suffer in silence or drown our sorrows in alcohol, hang out at bars and strip joints, or get involved with drug use.Having gone through a recent bout of #depression and #suicidalthoughts myself, I realize now, that I can make a huge difference in the lives of so many by sharing my story, and by sharing various resources I come across as I work in this space. #http://bit.ly/JamesMentalHealthArticleOrder your copy of James Donaldson's latest book,#CelebratingYourGiftofLife:From The Verge of Suicide to a Life of Purpose and Joy http://www.celebratingyourgiftoflife.com I thought I was the only one who had trouble leaving the house. I was so embarrassed about it — I wouldn’t talk about my #anxiety with anyone. When I learned that agoraphobia was an actual thing, and that other people had it too, it was like the weight of the world was lifted off me. (Natalie, age 63) The root of self-compassion is mindfulness, which is defined as being completely open to whatever it is you are feeling or thinking in a given moment. Many of us are uncomfortable sitting with our emotions because we are scared they will swallow us whole. Mindfulness teaches us not to push away or try to suppress our emotions. Another aspect of mindfulness is recognizing that your thoughts and feelings are not a permanent state — that they too will pass. Understanding the transient nature of thoughts and emotions helps us stay off the hamster wheel of exaggeration — when your mind goes right to “This is the worst thing ever” or “I’ll never feel better.” If we believe that no emotional state lasts forever, then we are better able to tolerate pain and suffering. Once we can tolerate our pain and suffering (by using self-compassion), we can proceed to soothe ourselves. Self-compassion is not only about making yourself feel better. It’s also about empowering yourself to take action. When we aren’t caught up in the denial spiral or stuck on the exaggeration hamster wheel, we free up our rational brain to help us problem-solve. For science wonks, the limbic system is calmed, the prefrontal cortex can be engaged. In terms of motivation to change #behavior, self-compassion is a far better choice than self-criticism, which releases #stress hormones and lowers resilience. How has berating yourself helped you manage your #anxiety? We’re guessing not so well. Self-compassion allows you to be less afraid of failure and judgment, which results in your being better able to take risks. Studies show that self-compassion makes us less self-indulgent, more accountable, and more likely to change our #behavior. It also makes us more resilient. But most important for us, research shows that self-compassion is correlated with decreased #anxiety and #depression. So how can we use self-compassion to manage our #anxiety? As we said earlier, we start by talking very gently to ourselves and disengaging our inner critics. If you catch yourself thinking, “I’m a total mess,” try: “#Anxiety is part of the human experience, and sometimes it feels messy.” Replace “Things will never get better” with: “I’m suffering right now, but I won’t always feel this way.” After you have silenced your inner critic and given yourself some compassion, you can then ask yourself, “What do I need right now?” In other words, do you need to be alone? With others? An action plan? A hug? A bath? A walk? Do you need to enlist other resources, like a #therapist or the advice of a close friend? Finally, remind yourself that everyone experiences suffering — that what you are going through is valid and very human. Give yourself permission to feel anxious, because all humans feel anxious sometimes; then, with the love and compassion you absolutely deserve, tell yourself you will be okay. Excerpted from THE #ANXIETY SISTERS’ SURVIVAL GUIDE, by Abbe Greenberg and Maggie Sarachek, published by TarcherPerigee, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2021 by #Anxiety Sisters, LLC. Read the full article

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

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In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day.

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.”

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. ��The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

****************

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are.

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

*****************

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

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cherrycocaineee · 3 years

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18. Sodapop - A Love All Too Real

*Warning - Smut; spanking, biting, dirty talk, hair pulling, car sex*

“My baby did so well.”

“Cum one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”

*Sodapop’s p.o.v*

Mickey Mouse was playing loudly throughout the living room, trying to muffle the sounds of the rain beating against the roof. It worked a little, distracting all of us from the brewing storm outside. Two-Bit was sitting next between Steve and I, completely mesmerized by his favorite showing playing on the screen. It wasn’t getting late but most of us were ready to pass out in the spots we sat in; me including, my heavy eyelids sinking each time I blinked. However, we were shaken away when there was a rapid banging noise on the door. I pushed myself up off the cushion and peered towards the closed door like all the others, wondering who could possibly be standing outside in this weather. The knocking came again, except this time with a voice behind it.

“Seriously guys! Who else would be knocking at your damn door right now?!”

It was Anni.

Ponyboy hopped off the floor, leaving Johnny sitting there alone, and opened the front door quickly. Anni was standing there, her hand over her left eye, soaking wet from the rain fall. She glared at him.

“Took you long enough,” she grumbled.

“Sorry Anni,” he said, “we expected you to be at home.”

“I was at home. I got kicked out.”

When she stepped into the house, the multiple bruises on her skin, fresh blood was collected on her skin and clothes, and when she removed her hand from her eye you could see how bad it really was. Her eye was black and purple, and I could see that some of the blood vessels in her eye were popped due to the red color collecting in her eye.

“Holy shit,” Two-Bit muttered, his eyes staying off the television now.

No one cared about Mickey Mouse playing anymore, or how tired they were. We only cared about Anni.

She placed her bag down by the door as she passed Ponyboy, who was still in shock that he couldn’t even move to close the door. Steve did it for him, not wanting rain to get inside the house or on him.

“Anni,” Darry said, standing in front of her, “this is the third time this week.”

She looked at all of us before turning back to Darry, the unfazed look on her face never wavering, as she shrugged.

“So?” She muttered.

“So,” he continued, “you can’t keep livin’ like this.”

Anni waved her hand in front of her, rather annoyed that she had to hear this again. Anytime she came over covered in bruises, Darry or one of us would tell her she couldn’t live with her dad again. It was always met with the same unfazed look on her face along with a light shrug of the shoulders. Anni crossed her arm over her chest; I noticed that she didn’t even wince. She was so use to the constant abuse and beatings that they didn’t even hurt her physically anymore.

“Why not?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Anni, you do realize that your eyeball is red right? Like the blood vessels in your eye have busted?” Dally inquired, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

“Well yeah, I’m going to clean myself up and wait for it to heal like always.”

“But what we’re sayin’,” I said, standing from my spot, “you don’t deserve to be beaten every time you go home. You deserved to be cared for and go to sleep safely.”

Once more, I noticed that the unfazed look in her eyes never wavered. She was so numbed to the abuse it didn’t seem wrong anymore. Instead, she turned away from all of us, facing the open bathroom ready to head inside so she could avoid the problem.

“Doesn’t matter to me. Lots of things shouldn’t happen but they do. People take what they want from me whenever they please; the want sex, they don’t have to ask they just take, if every night someone wants to beat the hell out of me so that they feel better then so be it. I’m nothing more than a toy; a disposable piece of shit that people tend to keep around until they’re done using me.”

With those final words, she walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. My heart broke into hundreds of pieces after hearing her say those words. Anni wasn’t a bad person, she just never knew what it felt like to be loved and cherished. All I wanted to do was love and cherish her. To lay beside her at night and hold her. To pepper her face with dozens of kisses while caressing her small form. To just show her what it felt to be cared about instead of used. But she was so brainwashed into thinking she didn’t matter, that she was nothing more than a throwaway doll, that she couldn’t see it.

Ponyboy wrapped his arms around him.

“We can’t keep lettin’ her live there, Darry,” he said.

“I know that, Pony, but unless she wants to leave there isn’t anythin’ we can do,” Darry said, “I’m goin’ to go make her somethin’ to eat.”

That was a normal routine when Anni came over all beaten up. She normally wouldn’t have eaten for two days before the beating. I had asked her why she didn’t eat two days in advance and she told me that it helped her not throw up when her dad kicked her in the stomach. Once more breaking my heart as I heard her tell me that she could anticipate when the beating was coming and how to make it hurt less.

I followed Darry into the kitchen, Steve and Ponyboy trailing behind me. He was already getting all of the sandwich stuff out, dinner having been served a while ago and with all of us here, there were no leftovers. I grabbed the mustard off the table and watched Pony take out some bread before spreading the yellow condiment on her sandwich. We worked in silence, not sure what we could say to one another. Darry was right; unless Anni wanted to leave her parents, to have a better life, there wasn’t much we could do.

As soon as we finished making her sandwich, and Steve added half a pickle to the plate, Anni came walking in while drying her hair with the towel. She was wrapped in nothing but a towel. In the kitchen light I could see her bruises more prominent.

“Soda, can I borrow some clothes?” She inquired.

“Sure thing, doll,” I said, rinsing my hands off and following her to my room.

I opened the drawer and took out a pair of gray sweatpants and a black wife beater that revealed a lot on the side. It was something I wore around the house when it was hot.

“You know, Pony has clothes that might fit you better,” I joked.

“Yeah, probably,” she laughed, “but they aren’t as comfortable as yours.”

I handed the clothes to her, looking at her beaten up face. I frowned.

“Does it hurt?” I whispered.

“No more than it normally does,” she shrugged, “can you close the door on your way out? Please, and thank you.”

Nodding my head, I left the room and closed the door behind me. Anni came out five minutes after wearing the sweats and wife beater I’d given her. It was much bigger on her than I’d expected, revealing all of her sides and if she moved her arms a certain way you could see the side of her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra, not that she needed one because her breasts were small and perky.

A lump formed in my throat as I watched her. I had to force myself to look away. She plopped down on the recliner, throwing her legs over the arm of the chair as Darry walked in with her sandwich. He handed it to her and smiled.

“Eat up, kid,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling back.

Soon the rain went away; Darry had gone to sleep an hour ago, having to get up for work in the morning. Pony had fallen asleep on the floor beside Johnny, Dally left with Two-Bit to a party that was close by, and Steve was sprawled out beside me completely knocked out. His mouth was partially opened which made me laugh a little.

Anni was still awake. She walked over to me, her arms folded over her chest.

“Want to come outside with me?” She asked, “I need to smoke.”

“Sure, come on,” I said, standing up carefully not to wake Steve or the others.

I closed the door behind us and she shivered. The rain had made the air incredibly cold, and she was hardly wearing anything. Her pale skin glowed in the darkness, and in the small, illuminating porch light, I noticed that her nipples were erected.

“Come on,” I said, leading her to Darry’s truck.

We climbed into the backseat. I reached to the front and grabbed the spare keys underneath the visors. I turned the truck on and let the heater kick in so we could warm up. Anni was digging through her bag, removing a lighter and a container out. I watched her open the container and take out a joint. Anni didn’t smoke cigarettes, couldn’t stand the taste, but she did smoke weed and I was pretty sure it was because it numbed her from everything. I watched her light her joint and hit it, a cloud of smoke releasing from her perfect, soft, pink lips. The smell of weed collecting in the car and I knew I was going to have to air it out before we went in. Darry had the nose of a hound.

She looked over at me and held out the joint, “want some?”

“No thanks, doll,” I smiled.

Shrugging her shoulders, she continued to smoke the joint. Her unwounded eye turned hazy and became a bit red. With each puff, she was getting higher and higher; this obviously not being the first time she smoked tonight. She slouched down in her seat, the shirt riding up a little bit. I guess I’d been staring too long because she faced me and raised her eyebrow.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that?” She questioned.

“Just takin’ in all of your wounds,” I whispered, half lying.

She let her eyes land on the bruises decorating her arm before dropping it and taking another hit of her joint.

“You know, I’m use to it but they still hurt like hell.”

“You shouldn’t be use to it,” I muttered, “I hate seein’ you like this, Anni.”

Anni put out her smoke, putting it back in her purse and folding her arms, “why?”

“Because I care about you. Every time I see you all bruised up like this, it pisses me off. I swear if I ever see your dad-”

“You’ll do nothing.”

Our eyes met; hers cold, and distant, mine shocked, and sad.

“If you do something it’ll only make it worse. I’ll just get beaten ten times worse than the last. He’ll do everything in his power to prove he’s got total control over me, and he’s right.”

I reached over and touched her shoulder. She flinched a bit but I didn’t pull away; her skin was cool to the touch, the heater barely keeping her warm. Anni sighed.

“It’s just how it is, Soda. Leave it be.”

“How can I do that?” I asked, “you don’t deserve it.”

“Because I’m not important, Soda!” She snapped, “if I left today, all of you would stop thinking about me! If I died tomorrow, you’d forget me as soon as you saw the next girl walk by! I’m replaceable! A nobody! Unloved!”

“You aren’t unloved!” I yelled back, “and maybe to your shitty dad you're replaceable, but to me you’re irreplaceable! You’re so fucked up in the head, you don’t even know what love is because they’ve got you all messed up.”

“So?! What do you want me to do about it!”

“Let me show you what it’s like to be loved, Anni.”

She started nibbling on her lip as I got closer to her. She didn’t move away from me though, as I leaned in closer and closer. The air between us almost felt thin, I could hardly breathe. I could see her chest moving up and down fast. Was she nervous? Scared? I couldn’t tell. My forehead pressed against hers.

“I’ll stop if you want,” I whispered, “I’d never do somethin’ to you that you aren’t comfortable with.”

It took her a moment to answer and when she was capable of doing so, it came out as more of a hushed whisper.

“I’m fine,” her voice croaked, “you can continue.”

She was definitely nervous. My words, along with my actions, had her flustered and confused.

Nodding my head, I pressed my lips against hers. Her lips were just as soft as I’d imagined them to be. When I pulled away, it was only for a second, going back into and kissing her deeply once again, this time more passionately. I softly pushed her back, keeping my lips on hers, and crawled between her legs. Her hands reached up and wrapped around my neck, her fingers tangling themselves into my hair. A soft groan left my lips as I felt her fingers tug gently.

I pulled away from her, a small amount of saliva pulling from our lips. Her eyes were hazy with lust and confusion.

“I’ve got you, doll,” I whispered, “I promise.”

She nodded her head. Leaning back down, I attached my lips to her neck and started leaving wet, open mouthed kisses along the nape. Softly sucking and nibbling on her flesh, I felt my cock harden at the sound of her breathy moans. A sound that I wanted to be familiar with forever. I bit down on her neck and she gasped, jolting forward, her chest pressing against mine. Her nipples were still hard. I swirled my tongue around the spot I bit down on before biting down on a different spot, repeating the process.

“Soda,” she whimpered.

It was the first time I’ve heard her sound so vulnerable.

“That’s a good girl,” I praised, returning my attention to her face.

The black eye didn’t bother me, neither did the blood in her eye. She was as beautiful as she always was.

I grabbed the rim of my shirt and pulled it off, revealing my tanned chest. Her eyes lingered a little lower, her teeth biting her bottom lip while she scanned over my body. I chuckled then reached for her shirt. She lifted her arms letting me pull the shirt over her head, revealing her exposed, bruised flesh. I groaned at the mere sight of her breasts. They were perfect; like beautiful clouds. I barely licked one of the hardened nipples and her back arched, eyes rolling to the back of her head. I captured her lips with mine once again, this time kissing her hungrily.

I pulled her off the seat and into my lap, breathing heavily as I started kissing down her neck again, tracing the purple hickeys I had left. My hands fumbled with my zipper first, my cock aching to be released from their restraints. Not bothering to lift her off of me, I lifted myself off the seat a bit and pulled my jeans down. Anni wrapped her arms around me, tugging my hair a bit as she kissed me hard. I grabbed the sweats she was wearing and dragged them down, my hands grazing her bare skin causing her to shiver. I loved watching her shiver after I touched her. It didn’t happen often with Anni, she hardly ever reacted to anyone touching her, so to see, to feel, her shake from my touch sent a rush of pride through me.

Anni lifted herself off of my lap as I pulled her sweats all the way off. She was completely naked in front of me now.

“God damnit, Anni,” I groaned, “so fucking beautiful.”

A soft laugh left her lips as she watched me pull my boxers down finally releasing my growing member. There was no need to wait any longer, no need for foreplay, no need for me to poke and prod to make sure she was okay. We were both ready as if we'd been waiting for years. I lined myself up with her and pushed her down onto me, groaning at the feeling of her tight walls gripping me. Anni buried her head into my shoulder and moaned softly at the feeling of me filling her up. Only a second passed before I started thrusting my hips back and forth, our skin slapping against each other’s. Small pants were leaving her mouth as she gripped my shoulders tightly, keeping herself upright despite being drilled into. Even though I wasn’t going too fast right now, the position allowed me to bury myself deep into her sweet little cunt.

“Holy fuck,” I moaned, “that’s it baby.”

My pace quickened as she started bouncing herself up and down; the truck started to rock a bit at the movement happening inside but we didn’t care. Anni’s moans became more erotic and lewd; she sounded almost angelic and I loved that I was the one making her feel this way. Her head fell back as she continued to ride my cock, meeting each thrust coming from me. I moved my left hand up to the back of her head and pulled her hair a little, just enough to get her to face me. I didn’t want to hurt her. She moaned at the feeling of me pulling her hair.

“Fuck, Anni, you sound so beautiful,” I groaned, pulling her closer by her hair so that our foreheads could meet, “such a beautiful girl for me, huh?”

She could only nod, her body shivering.

“Soda, I’m close,” she whimpered out.

“Let it go, baby,” I moaned, “I’ve got you.”

Those words with the quickening pace of our thrust sent Anni into euphoria. She screamed out, her legs violently shaking as she came all over my cock. I held her in place; one hand gripping her side while the other stayed tangled in her hair. I removed my hand from her back and smacked her perfectly, plump, sweaty ass. She yelped, rocking her hips into mine causing me to groan. Giving her ass a few more smacks, enough to pleasure her, I turned us over so that I was on top of her. My eyes danced across her sweaty body. I started pouring kisses onto her face and mumbling soft “I love you’s” as I continued to thrust into her faster.

“Soda,” she moaned, “I can’t.”

“Shh,” I whispered, holding back a string of curse words, feeling her walls tighten around me, “you can do it baby. Come on.”

I slammed into her repeatedly; removing my cock all the way at the tip and then slamming back into her. Her eyes rolled back as her hips arched. I could feel myself getting closer to my climax as I watched her, feeling her dripping cunt swallow me over and over again.

“Cum one more time for me,” I cooed, “I know you’ve got it in you.”

Anni couldn’t form any more words, all she could do was nod her head and let me coax her with my sweet words. Soon her body spasmed again and her legs shook harshly. Her screams rippled through the air, but I didn’t bother covering her mouth to hide them. I didn’t care if people heard and I didn’t care if that caused people to come over to see what was happening; all I wanted was to be focused on Anni.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” I croaked.

My thrust becoming sloppier, I watched her body go limp as pools of sweat collected on her chest. I thrusted into her three more times before spilling my cum into her fleshy, pink walls. Coating every inch.

“Fuck!” I yelled, “oh my God, fuck!”

I stopped moving, unable to ride out my high for too long. Anni was panting hard. I pulled myself out of her and brought her to my chest. Rubbing soft circles onto her bruised back as she gasped for air.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”

When Anni finally did catch her breath, she rested her head against my bare, sweaty chest. A tired smile appeared on my face as I watched her look up at me.

“My baby did so well,” I praised again.

We stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like a lifetime. Her glistening skin glowed in the moonlight, the cool air chapping her dry lips making her lick them repeatedly, her breast heaving up and down as she took in large amounts of air. Her black hair was not sweaty and clinging to her beautiful face. I reached my hand down and stroked the bruise on her cheek.

“I love you, Anni,” I whispered, “so fuckin’ much. You’ll never be replaceable to me. I only want you.”

Anni chuckled and closed her eyes, she was definitely sleepy.

“I’ll hold you to that, Soda. If you love me, maybe I can let myself love you too. It may take a while but I’ll do it for you.”

Grabbing the blanket that Darry normally kept inside his truck, I draped it over us and sighed. She buried her head into my chest and let her heavy eyes close. The sound of my heart lulling her to sleep.

“No matter how long it takes,” I said, “I’ll wait for you. I’ll help you love again because you deserve it. That and the world.”

The sudden realization of Darry coming out in the morning to see us asleep, naked in his car with the lingering smell of sex, hit me. A low chuckle escaped from my lips. I knew I was gonna hear it in the morning, but right now, I didn’t care. It felt like it was just Anni and I, all alone. That’s what I wanted.

#sodapop curtis smut #sodapop curtis imagine #sodapop curtis #the outsiders #outsiders smut #sodapop imagine #sodapop smut #sodapop x reader #imagines #smut #fluff #the outsiders sodapop #sodapop fanfiction #the outsiders fanfiction #sodapop patrick curtis

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

I'd love to request more Naoya smut with him and a now pregnant!reader from that breeding fic because him busting a nut thinking about how good they'll look knocked up really made me feel some type of way!!! maybe reader-chan will even finally get a smooch from this HORRIBLE man. If you are not into doing continuations on requests no worries tho and thank you for your incredible writing as always, Nat!

reader can have a little smooch. as a treat. don’t let naoya hear you say he’s not a good husband <3

Expecting - Naoya x Fem!Reader (3.3k)

Both of you got what you wanted. Naoya got more than he bargained for. sequel to covet.

warnings: not sfw, minors dni! afab reader, fem pronouns. pregnancy sex, light lactation, misogyny, power imbalance, breeding kink, mentions of alcohol, naoya perhaps having some Feelings???.

[comments/reblogs are much appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Naoya catches you every so often for the next month and you easily roll onto your back for him, helpless under the brush of his fingers and the snap of his hips. He smirks at you when he passes you in the corridor, but you have nothing to show for all of the times you’ve warmed his bed – yet.

When you do, though – when a month and a half passes, and you are beginning to feel sick in a morning, and your monthly bleed has still not made itself known – you go to Naoya with deference in your eye. Once a servant, always a servant – and you are not stupid. You know that what you carry inside you is a bargaining chip.

Naoya wants someone who will submit, and you want an end to the life of drudgery and roughened hands and back-breaking work, of being ignored or reviled or mocked for having the misfortune to not be born with Zenin as a surname. Naoya takes you to a private, discreet physician with an iron grip on your arm and his light eyes sharp.

It’s amazing, how quickly a man like Naoya Zenin can set things in motion – when it’s not simply confirmed that you’re carrying his child, but that you’re carrying his son. His heir.

It’s so easy for him.

Suddenly you are no longer a maid, but Naoya’s betrothed – and though the other members of the household look at you in disgust, knowing that you spread your legs for the title, none of them dare risk Naoya’s ire by being outright rude to you. He and his family spin it like silk; not that Naoya took advantage of a servant, but that you have been part of some grand, beautiful Cinderella story – that Naoya is in love with you.

(It’s probably for the better that the Zenins prefer servants who can see cursed spirits, at the very least – if you had not had any kind of talent for jujutsu, who knows what would have happened to you? Naoya would not have risked his son being born utterly ordinary).

And then you are Naoya’s wife. It wouldn’t do, of course, for the future head of the family to have his heir and son born out of wedlock, even if society have progressed enough that you falling pregnant with said son was before the betrothal. The latter is a disgrace; the former is a laugh over a cup of sake in the dark, a toast to Naoya’s virility, a wink-wink-nudge-nudge at how lucky Naoya is to have found someone who gives themselves up so utterly and completely and easily, including their virtue--

You know that Naoya is not in love with you. You are fairly certain that the only thing Naoya loves is his name, and the power imbued therein. Still. You share a bed with him, and you’re given silken kimonos and pretty hair ornaments and anything that you ask for, and you are . . .

Respected is not quite the right word. Not for a woman who is Naoya’s. Certainly, he does not respect you.

But you are not reviled, not ignored, not beholden to the demands of your betters. Now, you are one of the betters, and if your fellow servants are frustrated that they have to bow to you in deference, they do not dare show it knowing that if you asked Naoya, he would have them punished for the transgression.

You had perhaps thought that once you were bearing his child, Naoya would lose interest in you. You know as well as anyone that nobody would bat an eyelid at Naoya seeking his pleasure somewhere else; it’s almost expected of him to have a mistress, a concubine, to go and sow his wild oats just in case the one he has placed inside of you does not yield the crop expected--

But he doesn’t.

Naoya hates you out of his sight. He is always touching you; hands sliding over your hips, cupping where your bump has become soft and round and pronounced, snapping servants to attention if he thinks you look tired or wan or pale. You accompany him almost everywhere. He looks up from speaking to his father to seek you out, as if to reassure himself that you are still there – and some tension in his shoulders seems to drain away.

He is still Naoya, of course.

You are still swiftly reprimanded by him if you speak out of turn, he still gets servants to do anything for you so he doesn’t have to do it himself, you still walk three steps behind him with your head bowed unless he bids you to do something else – but as time goes on, and your hips widen and your stomach grows and you feel the baby kick, something in him softens.

And something else hardens.

His desire on your flesh, on your form, does not wane. You grow used to the feeling of tangled silken bedsheets below you, of Naoya’s handsome face above you, of the groan and the whine as he spills himself inside of you for the third time that night. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

That initial thrill, of being wanted by someone like Naoya, doesn’t fade at all, even though you too are now bowed to in the corridors and the people below you have to jump at your command. And Naoya is not cruel for no reason. Despite the arrogance in his tone, the condescension that drips off of his slow, drawling words, the particular way he has of raising one eyebrow and letting his gaze crawl over you – you have come to enjoy being his.

You did not want equality, after all. You knew your place.

You just wanted better – and Naoya has provided you that in spades.

He’s got his arms spread out over the pillows, his shoulders strong, his eyes hungry as he watches you strip off the kimono you have been wearing today. Your wardrobe now is the height of luxury; all beautiful embroidery, delicate colours, fabrics that cost more than your former monthly salary. Kimono are not made to cling to your body; though people can tell that you are pregnant, it does not over-emphasise your hips or the newly swollen, heavy breast, or the curve of your stomach. Those are things that Naoya never tires of seeing, as the fabric pools around your ankles and the hadajuban is discarded and so are your underwear, and you stand before him utterly bare and unmistakably carrying his child.

“Stay there,” he says, “let me look at you.”

You are a good, well-trained, obedient thing. You stand there as Naoya’s gaze roves over you, straying over and over again to where your hips have filled out even more, where your stomach is curved – where your breasts have begun to droop a little from how heavy and swollen with milk they are. He sighs as he looks you over, and it is the sigh of a man who is indeed very pleased with his work.

“You can move,” he says. He moves the covers off of him, and you are not surprised to see that he is bare; that his cock is already stirring, heavy and thick between his thighs. “Come.” He crooks a finger at you, and you are grateful to be able to move, to take the weight off your ankles as you’re permitted to sit on the bed beside him. His arms wrap around you – they are strong, and certain, and he holds you like you are his property.

Which you suppose you are. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder and he makes a soft huff of amusement, but doesn’t say anything about how brazen you are. You are permitted some special favours, now that you are Naoya’s, and now that you are fulfilling your purpose so beautifully.

Naoya’s lips brush your ear, his tongue lapping at the curve of your neck, the joint between throat and shoulder. You sigh prettily, the warmth of his mouth on you making you shiver. One of his hands curls around your breast, enjoying the heavy weight of you in his hand. Thumb and forefinger gently pinch your nipple.

He was rough with you the first time, but now he treats you like porcelain – and the idea that you are precious to Naoya Zenin sets your stomach aflame, makes your breath stick in your throat. He tugs at it softly, coaxing you to sigh, a drop of liquid leaking from the sensitive nub as you squirm backwards into his lap. His tone is lightly warning as he says;

“Come on, be good. It’s a good sign, sweetheart.”

He calls you sweetheart in front of other people and the ones who have bought this rags-to-riches Cinderella story exchange looks that say ‘isn’t she lucky?’. You hear the light edge in it, the smirk, the loftiness – but it always seems to break into something that’s almost fond, when he’s inside you and touching you and his teeth bite into your neck.

“Just that your body is doing what it’s supposed to do,” your other nipple is subjected to the same treatment, and you feel Naoya’s breath hitch, his cock stir behind you and dig into the small of your back. “I think the moment he’s in his nursery I’m going to fuck another son into you, dearest.”

“Mm?” You say, a little breathless as his hand goes lower. He sweeps his palm over the curve of your stomach, pausing where the skin is tight and swollen. His cock twitches once more at the reminder of how utterly his you are, and how wonderfully you are doing your purpose. How lucky he is, to have found someone submissive and well-trained and obedient and sweet, who looks so luscious full of him.

You drive him to distraction even when you don’t realise he’s looking at you.

“Thighs apart,” he grunts, into your ear, and you comply with the docile nature of someone raised to serve. He loves that about you. Loves, too, when he dips his fingers between your legs and your slick coats his digits, a soft whine catching in the back of your throat as he circles your clit and little shocks spark all through you, making you almost clamp your thighs back around his hand.

You do not, though. You are well-behaved. And you and Naoya have played this game enough times that you know that this is leading to relief for both of you.

One of his long fingers slides inside of you and you widen your thighs more, your soft whimper breaking and pitching – it’s such a servile, sweet little noise that Naoya cannot help but crook his finger, let it rub against the textured spot on your inner walls that has you clenching and gasping.

Since your pregnancy, you have become so sensitive. Naoya is the kind of man who hates working to pleasure a woman – who considers your orgasm a choice, and his a foregone conclusion. But with you swollen and full with his seed, he is slow and indulgent – and it is so easy, now that a brush of his palm makes you shiver and a tug of his teeth on your earlobe makes you gasp.

The finger is pulled out of you, and Naoya raises it to your lips, hooking his finger inside so you open your mouth and let him press your own slick onto your tongue.

Your tongue gently suckling at his finger reminds him of the insistent pounding of need inside of him; the stiff cock, leaking pre-come. He’d gotten so distracted touching you and enjoying you he’d almost forgotten about his own pleasure, and he sighs as he props himself up on pillows and reaches for you.

“Get comfortable,” he tells you.

His preference is to have you beneath him; that, he thinks, is his wife’s proper place. But it has begun to be difficult, with your stomach so distended – and he is nothing, he thinks to himself with more than a touch of smugness, if not an indulgent provider. A good husband.

(That’s what he thinks, anyway. You are not hurt. You get pretty things, and him in your bed, and the estate’s servants at your beck and call, an expensive wedding ring on your finger and the honour of his name affixed to yours, and his seed taking root inside of you. What else could you ask of him?)

So you are permitted to spread your knees, to climb on top of him – to gently sink your tight, wet, heat about his cock and seat yourself comfortably on the muscle of his thighs and the flat planes of his stomach.

“If you had my view,” he says, teasingly. “Mm, you were really made as breeding stock, weren’t you?” The words make heat rush to your face as he cups your hips in his hand again, squeezing the new covering of plush flesh that you’ve acquired since your pregnancy. “My wife.”

The words send a quiet thrill through you. You sigh as he bottoms out, as your body meets his entirely; your hands splaying on his shoulders. He is not flat against the bed – that position is too weak, not fitting for a man of his stature. But he is propped up with pillows behind him, so that he can admire how you look as your teeth bite into your plump bottom lip and you lift yourself just a little off his straining cock, before letting yourself fall back down.

He lets you set the pace. If you are to be permitted to ride him, he thinks, you may as well be the one doing all of the work. Part of him, too, is afraid of touching you too much – of hurting you, when you have something so precious inside of you. He would not admit that to himself – that’s not a thought process befitting of someone of his stature. But . . . it nibbles at the corners of his consciousness.

He cares about you. He does not want to hurt you. He does not want you to be uncomfortable – not when you are doing such a good job, when you are so lovely for him, when he is so grateful to have found you--

It’s no more than I deserve, he reminds himself.

And to brush back thoughts that are not proper for his elevation station in life, he lets himself watch the bounce of your breasts. Lets his fingers dig into the even softer, rounder thighs. Enjoys the sight of your mound bouncing on his cock, the feel of your slick walls clinging to his cock.

You are so beautiful, swollen with his child.

It is the first time he has ever looked at a woman and saw power in them. There is, he thinks, a power in what you have – in the glow about your skin, the brightness of your eyes, the curves and roundness and soft, supple flesh. The thought almost frightens him – but then, you push up again and your eyes meet his own for just a moment and he remembers that you are swollen with his child and have the power of him inside of you, and it becomes comforting.

Without him, you’d be nothing.

So he watches you with hungry eyes as you move your hips on his cock; as his length sinks inside of you, as you angle yourself just so – so that every stroke of your hips makes his cock rub against the place inside you that earlier had you seeing stars. Your breath is getting faster and faster, your fingers on his shoulders flexing as the tight string of your release is wound inexorably closer and closer.

Naoya allows himself a groan; a light thrust of his hips, in time with your own. The chase of your warm, tight walls as you try and pull away. He lets his gaze wander to how his cock is coated in your slick, all wet and shining in the light of the bedroom – and he is once more reassured. This is his. You are his. This wetness, this need – this is all for him. The way your body has changed is because of him.

His own release is creeping up on him.

Today, though, he decides he will be merciful – he reaches forward , curving his fingers just so, so that he can toy with your clit as you continue to fuck him. He rolls the bud with the pad of his fingers (soft; he wields just one weapon, and most people do not get to see it. Most of his harder work is done with his technique, and you have seen him apply expensive hand cream to keep himself handsome), knowing your body as well as he knows his own.

He prides himself on that, and you have spent enough nights in his bed that it is second nature to him. Women are predictable, he thinks, smirk on his face as your channel clenches around his hard cock and you come, whimpering out his name--

(In bed, he prefers Naoya-sama, and you are a good wife. Your tone is servile, soft, obedient – and in return, Naoya is almost sweet to you.)

He thrusts his hips roughly up into you, chasing his own release as your body spasms and trembles about him. You are still so tight; so hot and taut where the aftershocks are making you tremble. It’s the sight of your body, quivering under your release, that does it in the end.

Your hips and stomach and breasts and thighs, all rounded with the miracle of bearing life. All softened and plump; meek and pliant, a perfect little wife. His perfect little wife.

As he feels the tension inside of him snap, one of his hands winds about the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Naoya’s grunt of pleasure is lost in the kiss, his mouth against yours hard and hungry. He is not willing to give up his dominance even here – but . . .

He has not kissed you so intimately before.

He has always avoided your mouth, preferring his lips on your chest or neck – turning your face away if it had seemed you might go for his mouth (later on, he had not bothered – he knows you well enough now to know that you would not dare.)

He tastes like wine. Like fancy, expensive sweets; the kind that you could have never afforded before you were his, but he has had at his disposal for his whole life. Like a cross between freedom and a prison--

He groans as he fills you up; his cock twitching, shooting out thick ropes of his come to land thick and heavy in your insides. Your whimper at the sensation is lost in his mouth, but Naoya fails to miss it – the fingers around the nape of your neck stroke through your hair, almost comforting, as he pulls back from you.

His lips are shiny, full and pretty. The grin that he gives you is crooked – and though you know it should not, though you know you should hate him for being arrogant and cruel and considering you lesser than him, the grin sends a rush of affection all through you.

If you were sentimental, you would say that the affection is mirrored in his own pale eyes.

(Naoya is glad you are not; you cannot see, beneath the triumph that you are claimed and carrying his heir and the hunger for your body and the pleasure that you are exactly the kind of wife that he wanted, that perhaps he does care about you.)

“My little wife,” he says, and he brushes his thumb over your cheek, hot with the rush of blood. “You’re so good for me.”

And you’ll carry on being so.

You’re so lovely when you’re expecting.

#naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya x you #naoya smut #jjk x reader #naoya zenin smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #not sfw #afab reader #fem pronouns #pregnancy for ts #breeding kink for ts #misogyny for ts #Anonymous

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mountswhore · 3 years

Text

𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 — mason mount

summary: chelsea’s massage therapist, and mason’s long term crush, had moved to a different club. but after reuniting at nationals, you realise just how much you missed him.

notes: requests are open, just ask! this is so fucking long, please read when you have time.

“I will take care of you.” + “I could never get tired of you.”

for @masterclassbaby

“she’s pretty,” mason hummed, chin in the palm of his hands and eyes gazing at you. chelsea’s newest sports massage therapist. he watched as you conversed with a few of the injured teammates, the boys on either side of him laughing at his blushed cheeks.

“mounty’s in love.” chilly sang, pushing mason gently. the three of them were laying on the turf, waiting for their trainer to arrive and being introduced to the pretty lady who would be massaging their injured limbs from now on. “go on, make a move before kai does. you know he will.”

“i’m not making any moves,” mason huffed and pushed himself to his feet, ben following suit and pulling a ball towards him with his foot, “can i appreciate her beauty without wanting to make a move?” ben rolled his eyes at his friend, eyes now focused on the ball for the first time in twenty minutes.

“so you’re just going to stare at her, like a creep.” ben stated, stopping the ball with the side of his foot and kicked it back to mason. “noted.” mason was barely focused, looking over to you every time you laughed or your voice echoed. he’d laugh with you, crinkling his nose when you did, it was sickening.

ben had kicked the ball to mason’s feet, where is stilled and hadn’t even broken his stare. he had ‘regained control of the ball’ by kicking mason’s ankles, which had definitely caught his attention and caused him to hiss in pain. “you fucker, what did you do that for?”

“i just gave you a reason to talk to her, you clown.” ben revealed sarcastically, mason limping over to you as you held a look of concern.

“everything okay, mount?” you politely asked, the slight touch on his back as well as hearing his name fall from your mouth was sending him into a frenzy. he just nodded, and followed you inside to where your new office resided. “what the hell happened? last time i looked, you were kicking a ball about with chilly.”

your voice was as silky as he’d imagined. “yeah, he’s a bit slow. so he thought kicking me in the ankles would be a wise idea.” you couldn’t help but giggle at the man’s joke, avoiding his gaze as you were sure to blush. this man was attractive, but it was your first day, you had to remain professional.

“i better get to work,” you huffed, rubbing some hand sanitiser onto your hands and pulling his socks down. “we can’t have chelsea’s best player injured a few days before the game,” you’d finally met eyes and stared at each other for a brief second, before bashful looking away.

“you think that?” mason almost sounded unsure of himself.

“of course,” you grinned and applied some pressure to the side of his ankle, “i’d say you’re one of the best.” mason hummed almost silently, resting his head back on the table. it didn’t hurt, and if anything, he’d have to thank chilly for kicking his ankles, as it got you two talking.

weeks had passed, mason visiting your office most days with random excuses.

“my legs are fine. but maybe a shoulder rub for good luck?”

“i bought you a smoothie.”

“it’s cold outside, and i told the boys my thighs were sore.”

“now i’m just bored.”

every time he’d appear, you’d just pull up a chair instead of prepping the table. he’d talk to you about the most random of things, the pair of you having an intense debate on whether or not ross and rachel were on a break. he’d quickly become your favourite visitor.

“mr. mount, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you questioned, knowing it was him just by the way he fiddled with the handle before opening the door. he grinned at the nickname, sitting in the desk chair beside you.

“i actually came to ask if you wanted to go for a drink tonight. the boys were meant to, but now it looks like i’m all alone.” mason explained, a white lie thrown into the mix. he wasn’t being left by the boys, he asked them to cancel, so he could spend some with you. “so, you fancy it?”

“sure.” you smiled, accepting his invitation before you could overthink your way into cancelling. “i’ll text you my address.” he nodded his head, resting his head on his hands as you got on with paperwork. you could see out of the corner of your eye, he was staring at you as you worked. he had no training to be getting on with, and saw a better pastime in watching you work.

when you’d finally finished work and gotten yourself dressed up, mason was even more in awe of you. you looked adorable at work, and now he’d seen you in a new light. it’s like seeing your crush outside of school, it’s weird not seeing them in uniform, but seeing a new layer of them was good. he’d picked you up and taken you to the nicest pub he could find, it was a quiet one. it was a pub you had to pay extra for to sit on the terrace with a table to yourself. but he was willing to go the distance.

“it’s weird not seeing you in your kit.” you mentioned, staring at his impeccable sense of fashion. like he’d been ripped from the front page of asos. mason chuckled loudly and sipped on his beer, after doing a brief ‘cheers’ with you. it was british tradition, after all.

“i know. i’m used to seeing you in leggings and a chelsea top.” mason observed, his cheeks blushing at the way you looked at him. he felt the butterflies begin to swarm in his stomach, like they did on the way here. “now you’re in a dress, i can see your legs.” his eyes widened at the weird statement that just fell from his lips, face burning with embarrassment. “sorry, that sounded so creepy.”

you burst into laughter, feeling anything but disturbed. in fact, you felt more comfortable with him. “don’t worry about it, you’re easy to feel comfortable with.” mason took this chance to hide his rosy cheeks by sipping on his beer. the pair of you conversed for well over an hour, your conversations from work spilling into the mix too. and soon enough you were laughing on the walk back to your home.

“that’s hilarious. i can’t believe we could’ve almost met years ago.” you exclaimed, mason proud of recalling that memory. the pair of you remembered an awful christmas concert that happened in a town near central london, and were almost inches apart unknowingly covering your ears at the screeches made by the backup singers.

you’d ended up at your door, mason standing just centimetres away from your face. you knew what he wanted, and you wanted it to. so, with the confidence given to you by the mixer you’d just downed a while ago, you closed the gap between you and engaged in a sweet kiss with him. it was well overdue, mason’s teammates would say as he told them the following day.

you’d settled in really nicely with the team, enjoying every day you spent at the training grounds. you’d only been on that one drink date with mason, always planning to reschedule another but you’d both be too busy to do so. it didn’t stop you from texting nonstop and have some late night facetime calls. you were really beginning to like each other. it was as if nothing could ruin your happiness you felt with your life at this moment.

until you’d been pulled aside and told by chelsea’s own manager that a man united massage therapist had quit, offering you the job. it would mean your whole life would shift, you’d have to move, you’d have to make friends with a team all over again, and leave mason. you couldn’t bear telling him, which you’d also been told to do. you’d have to break the news to your beloved team, who would come and cheer with you after a win, and always pester you with random requests. you were each of their’s personal assistant almost, loving your relationship with them all. and mason, you knew he’d be crushed, the girl he was so deeply falling for, being told to move to another club.

you were on edge since that very morning, not being your usual joking self with your boys as they came in for their sessions. you’d weakly smile at them and make small talk whilst tending to their stiff joints, then let them leave. all the boys carried on with their day, assuming you were just having a bad day. but mason could see through you, he could tell something was playing on your mind.

as you were putting pressure on mason’s ankle, which he’d been take off the pitch for last week, he grabbed your arm gently. sitting up, he pulled you close to him and held you how he usually did. his hands grazing your sides and his eyes almost burning holes into your own. “talk to me, pretty. what’s on your mind?”

you shook your head. “i’d go easy on the foot today, mount. i don’t want to see you benched next game.” would you even be able to see their next game? it brought you close to tears throughout the day, but being trapped in a room with mason, you were bound to cry and tell him everything.

his grip didn’t leave your arm, instead he pulled you closer to him and held you close to his chest, now standing and towering over you. you felt a sob erupt through your chest, opening the flood gates as you cried into him. he’d never seen you like this, you were always his smiling ball of sunshine. “talk to me, y/n.”

“they’re moving me.” you simply stated, hoping not to say another word and him just understand completely. but it didn’t work like that, none of the team knew. mason would be the first to know, and you had to tell the rest of the team before the day was up. as this weekend you’d be arranging accommodation in manchester whilst you looked for permanent residence, as well as meeting the team and staff you’d be working for.

“what?”

“they’re moving me to united, mase. a therapist quit over there and they asked for me, your manager signed me over a few days ago. and i’m gonna be leaving you boys.” you explained, mason’s grip on you loosening as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying. he’d had his fair share of bad news in his life, but this was the biggest blow he’d felt in a while.

“they can’t do that,” mason stuttered over his tears, a frown cast upon his face, “they can’t just expect you to pack up and leave.” you placed your hands over his cheeks, forcing him to look down at you. that’s when his tears began to fall, looking so vulnerably at each other in this time of sadness.

“they can, mason. and they have, i need to go this weekend to meet the team and look to move up there.” you admitted, your hands refused to leave his face. you were soaking up every bit of mason you could before you left. long-distance didn’t work for either of you, especially with how busy you both were. the only time you’d see each other would be if chelsea were to play united.

“i can’t lose you, y/n.” he confessed, pulling you into him and resting his head above yours. it wasn’t just losing a girl he was seeing, it was losing someone he loved. he’d fallen deeply in love with you — but telling you would just hinder your movement. he couldn’t make it any harder than it was, it would ruin you. he just had to let you go.

that afternoon, you’d thought about what you were going to say and met the boys on the pitch. the second mason saw you, it took everything in him to not cry into his hands. but he managed to stay strong. you stood weakly beside the team manager, avoiding everyone’s eyes and fiddling with your jumper sleeves.

“afternoon boys,” you greeted them, hearing a few cheers and whistles, they loved you, “i have some news. today will be my last day working with you. i’ve been transferred to united, which will take full effect this weekend. you guys have my number if you just want to talk rubbish, or have any questions for me.” it was a long while of hugging them all, laughing with them and repeating little inside jokes with them.

“what are you going to do without me, huh?” you asked reece, who just chuckled and gave you a squeeze. “i’ll miss you all, you know who i’ll be cheering on if you ever go against united.”

you’d settled in at united perfectly, but something was missing. it was always going to feel this way, nothing would ever break the bond you shared with the chelsea boys. even when they went head to head, and you’d catch mason’s eyes on the pitch, you’d have to hide your smile when they scored, and try even harder if mason was the one putting it in the back of the net. you got on well with the boys here, but you found yourself missing the boys back at chelsea, and most of all, mason.

months had passed since your move to manchester, and you were heading out of your office on a particular tiring friday afternoon, walking past united’s manager, who always seemed to be on his way to something.

“ah, y/n, just who i needed to see.” he commented, stopping you as you were headed out to find a late rashford for his session. “keep an eye on your emails tonight, please. you’ve been included in an international offer.” you nodded, not hearing anything past the word ‘email’. and when you’d gotten home that evening, waiting for your takeaway to arrive, you mindlessly scrolled your emails.

something about the upcoming world cup, saying you’d been selected as the teams massage therapist. it burned your eyes as you danced around your tiny living room; so happy to have a chance at seeing any of the chelsea boys again. you’d thought that after all these months of just seeing mason’s face in his instagram posts, he’d have forgotten about you and moved on. but it was the furthest from the truth.

mason watched over your socials for months, seeing your various pictures with the likes of rashford, shaw, and lingard. he made sure you had friends and was having a good time up north. but every night he’d go to bed, yearning for you and the time you both spent together. missing your first kiss, missing hearing the sound of your laugh in real life, not just through another footballers videos. he missed spending hours on the phone. and although he had a chance to reconnect with you, it would be too much for the both of you to handle. he’d miss you so much more, knowing you were simply unobtainable.

after signing all of the correct documents to show you could in fact work for the national team, you were on your way to the training grounds and coping with living in the camp alongside the boys and other members of staff. it was better than your tiny manchester apartment, that was for sure. you weren’t really needed outside for training, so you set up your office and began on your paperwork. time passed a lot quicker here than it did when you worked at united, it was nearing your lunch break already. a knock was placed at your door, bringing your out of your work daze.

“hello, stranger.” you heard from behind you, heart overjoyed that it was actually him. it was your mason. you turned round to greet him, standing up and immediately pulling him into a hug. it felt familiar, the only bit of familiarity you had in this place. “god, i missed you.” he even smelt the same, as creepy as it was to say.

“i knew you’d be called up,” you admitted to him, looking up at his red face. it was just like the first time, he was so nervous to talk to you, “you’re still my best player.” his hands found your cheeks, taking advantage of the affection not feeling awkward. it was as if you never left.

“you don’t understand how much i’ve missed you all these months, y/n,” he whispered, face centimetres away from yours. “how much i’ve wanted to kiss you again.” you wanted it too, you finally felt like you found your missing piece. but you had to remain professional, this was national level now, not just club level.

“trust me,” you whispered back at him, holding your hands above his own, “i’ve wanted to kiss this pretty face, too. but we have to be professional.” he nodded, understanding that if they were caught, you’d be the one facing repercussions, not him. so he respected your choice and stood back.

“what about when the day’s over, and we go back to the camp,” he suggested, a hand on your shoulder to stop you from turning around, “what would you say to me then?” you just shrugged, sitting back down in your chair and continuing your work. the remainder of your day was quiet, just talking about a few people tomorrow that have stiff joints that need loosening. you’d made your way back to camp, opening your door and sighing as you took your shoes off.

what room are you in? mason texted, waiting outside his door.

you’re eager, i just finished work. but i’m on the floor above you, room 39. you texted him back, speedily changing your attire for something more comfortable and freshening up. mason would be up here within seconds. and whilst there were no rules stating that the squad shouldn’t be in staff members rooms, it felt wrong.

“you’re gonna have to leave when nobody can see you.” you sighed, opening your door to an eager mason. he wormed past you and sat on your bed, semi annoyed that your bed was comfortable than his.

“so not only do you get a room to yourself, you get a bed that doesn’t feel like a plank of wood.” mason stated, clearly getting comfortable on your bed. “i just might have to stay here.” you rolled your eyes and sat beside him, resting your head on the pillow. “you tired?”

instead of saying anything, you nodded and inched closer to him. his right hand was drawing delicate patterns on your exposed arm, whilst the other was wrapped around you. this was the moment he wanted with you, even when you were working at chelsea. but it’s happening now and that’s all he cared about. holding the girl he still deeply loved in his arms.

“i’ll go down to dinner soon,” he mentioned, even if you could hear him or not, “maybe i’ll bring you something up.” a small kiss was placed on your temple, mason snuggling into you a bit more.

the next day, you knew you had some sessions. so you were up early, a text from mason on your phone.

i left late last night, i fell asleep once i came back from dinner. i hope you had a good night.

you blushed at his text, getting yourself prepared for the day. the boys had a match coming up soon and you wanted to be on top of your game, making sure they were all stretched and ready. you sat in your office, prepping your table and your paper work for the first person to enter.

you’d worked with grealish, bellingham, and lingard today. and they only had a few more hours training until they were done for the day. you sighed in your seat and rested your head against your desk, arms and hands sore. your handle was violently shoved down, your door opening in the process. startled, you watched declan carry his best mate in.

“he rolled his ankle taking a kick,” declan explained, helping his friend onto the table. you quickly sanitised your hands and pulled his sock down to observe his ankle. “will he be okay for the game in a few days?”

“yes, dec. he’ll be out in no time.” you reassured his friend, mason smiling through the sharp pain shooting through his ankle. declan had left shortly afterwards, leaving you to giggle at mason.

“what you giggling at, hm?” mason questioned, a finger tickling your side. you squirmed and brushed a hand over his head, his features relaxing under your touch.

“it’s always the ankles, hm?” you retorted, mason rolling his eyes before letting out a laugh of his own. “let’s get you back on your feet in time for this game.” you had taken his boot and sock off, applying gentle pressure to the sides of his ankle and seeing how badly he reacted to the pain.

after the next few days of training, it was finally time for the match. you stood nervously on the side of the pitch, watching the ball being passed around. you watched as it had gone to mason, someone from the opposing team sliding into mason, and knocking his ankles together. he fell and began to yell in pain, the medics rushing over to him and assessing the pain. after realising it was not too serious, but he still had to be taken off, they’d given the job to you.

mason sat on one of the chairs beside you, head leaned back as you pulled his socks down. he winced as your small, cold fingers had pressed different parts of his ankle, but it didn’t feel bad. in fact, it was quite relieving. “it really is always the ankles,” mason finally agreed, making you chuckle and sit on the floor opposite him, “god, it fucking hurts.”

“i will take care of you,” you mentioned, your hand sliding into his. he smiled at the contact, his free hands gently tickling your side. this small amount of public affection felt scary, but good. you knew someone would pick up on it, but you didn’t care in the slightest. you had been away from mason for far too long. months and months apart, yearning for each other every second you were awake.

when the match was over, england scoring a whopping 4-0, mason was by your side for the rest of the evening. even getting onto the coach to go home, he sat beside you the whole way; his hand in yours and his head gently resting against your shoulders. when heading back to camp, knowing you had a day’s break before the boys were back on for training again in time for the next match, mason followed you to your room. you didn’t mind, neither did anybody else really.

you’d gotten into bed beside him that night, eyes heavy from the amount of work you’d both put in today, and the buzzed feeling from declaring victory had awoken something in him. he had the urge to kiss you, like he has every moment he’s spent with you recently, but more than that. he wanted to tell you he loved you, but decided to keep quiet. he wanted to save it for another day, maybe someday more special, when you weren’t trying to catch up on sleep between games.

“are you tired of me?” mason asked, releasing his voice into the darkness. he had no idea whether you were awake or asleep, as half an hour had passed of you both enjoying each other’s presence. you were wide awake, although your eyes told a different story.

“i’m tired in general,” you admitted, rolling over to face him, barely catching his pearly whites in the dark, “but i could never get tired of you.” mason’s heart was beating through his chest, reaching out for your hand to place onto it. it was a special moment — feeling his heart rapidly paced from your words, you’d barely noticed mason’s arm around you as he pulled you into him.

“good, because i’m not letting you go again,” he spoke quietly, your hand now replaced with your head, feeling his pulses on your cheekbone. you smiled for the millionth time that day, happy you had your mason back.

#money mase #mason mount x reader #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount

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dxrkdreamer · 3 years

Text

Not So Bad

Modern Sukuna x Reader

Working late had been the bane of your existence, only getting worse when a certain man started showing up to your store’s parking lot to light his joints.

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: 18+ implied sex, mentions of weed.

(A/N: should I make a part 2? It seems pretty popular

Couldn’t come up with a name for the store so I used Anavrin from ‘YOU’)

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“11:00 pm? Again?” you rubbed the back of your head trying to hide your frustration, the store manager nodded his head, sighing you agreed to stay late at work again since the closer frankly did not want to stay. So now here you are grumbling as you finish sweeping the floor and checking it off your log. You worked at a high end grocery store named Anavrin, a store that swore to sell organic produce and products to the best of quality. You took up a job here in your senior year of high school, planning on working for a few months to save up for college. And yet… 4 years later you’re still here grumbling at the extra hours you had taken. After your second year of working you had a promotion to supervisor… woo hoo!!... but it turned out it was more responsibility than expected. But it paid a little more and you could not argue with that.

‘I should be a little more optimistic, I’m graduating uni this year’ you’d tell yourself anytime you wanted to pull your hair out because of your measly job. You finished turning off the lights and locking the door, sighing as you felt the cold fall air hit your tired face, taking a deep breath of fresh air… wait a second “Who the fuck is smoking weed!” you yelled in a girly voice, as if this day was not long enough. Since you were in charge of a proper closing you marched off towards a tall man leaning against the back of the store, laughing and conversing on his phone. It was a little nostalgic, you remembered your highschool days, sneaking around and smoking pot in strange places. But he was not as young as a teenager, in fact his build made him look older than you.

“Hey! I’m going to ask you to leave, this is a smoke free property” You tried saying sternly gesturing to the sign right above them that read “no smoking” in bold letters. But your short stature compared to the man made you look like a kid waving your arms around attempting a snake dance.

“What on earth is this?” a man with pink hair and face tattoos said “I’m so scared, I should be so ashamed for not reading the sign” he cackled as he pressed the joint to his lips and inhaled again. “My apologies”

He did not look sorry at all.

“Look, I’ve had a long day. I’d like to go home so please go to a proper location or I’ll-” but you’re cut off with the joint stuffed to your pretty lips.

“You’ll what cutie?” he smirked as you stared at him dumbfounded, the joint stuck to your lip as you tried to figure out a reaction. But the man was already on his way towards his motorbike. Of course he had a motorbike. “First one’s always free darling, next time I’ll charge ya” he winked as he put his helmet on and sped off.

“Mother fucker” you swore and banged your head against the brick wall. ‘Never am I staying late again’ you groaned. You walked to your car, but not without tucking the joint safely in your pocket for when you got back home.

---

And that was your first of many nightly encounters with the pink haired man. You were not surprised to see him anymore in the parking lot, either smoking, laughing with friends or just sitting on his bike staring at his phone. You learned his name was Sukuna… you had asked for it during the nth time you threatened to call the cops. You also learned he sold weed to the store manager, so he pretty much had a free pass on smoking here.

“Working late again (name)? My, they must pay you a lot for you to stay here.” he smirked, watching you with grinning eyes. Your annoyance shot up at the mention of your little over minimum wage pay. They definitely were not paying you enough for the store, but giving you a delinquent like this guy… you had written your resignation letter a few times after his nightly visits. You ignored him as you walked to your car, heavy footsteps followed “I brought ya a little something” He grinned handing you a baggy with a cookie “It’s on the house, made ‘em myself”. Eyes narrowed as you tilted your head up to glare at him, but realized you were a lot closer than you expected. You could hear him breathe, feel the heat off his body and smell the spicy cologne he was wearing as you breathed a little too loudly trying to inhale the scent. “Not today darling, that package is for another date” he winked.

Oh my God.

What have you done? Sure he was hot and you didn’t mind the view, but his mouth made up for that. He was like an evil version of a talking cat. Opening his mouth to smite you, prideful like one and given the opportunity would sit on your face if you were lying down. Wait what?

“I’m not interested in you like that!” you squeeked.

He tilts his head to the side, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand “Then how are you interested in me?”

“I’m not interested unless you’re a customer, or an employee here or something!” Frustrated, you grabbed the zip loc with the cookie in it “And I’ll be confiscating this!”

“Sure thing, I made it just for you. It's a special recipe”

“I’ll let the cops know!” you yelled getting in your car, throwing the cookie on the passengers side as you sped home for the night.

“So if I was an employee…or something...” he wondered gazing at the stars, his thoughts frenzying around as his mind came up with the most brilliant idea. Cackling loudly “you’ve really outdone yourself this time me.” Laughing as he got on his bike, speeding towards his apartment.

---

“A new employee?” You mused, It was pretty hectic at work recently, one of your employee’s had quit and they finally found a replacement “I wonder what they’re like”. You asked yourself as you prepared a training checklist to go over, making sure to not make it too hard on the new guy- you heard it was his first job after all. “Hello! And welcome to the Anavrin family!” you say smiling with closed eyes, as you open them your mouth went agape. ‘What the….’ had the demon cat from the parking lot shrunk and gotten more youthful?

“Hi, I’m Yuji Itadori. You must be my brother Sukuna’s friend. He said to write your name down as someone who referred me to the job”

Chuckling nervously with the clipboard in hand you checked off the box for introductions “I’m (name) the grocery supervisor, and you would be working under me mostly.” Friends with Sukuna? Cutting your wrists open and watching them bleed sounded like the better option.

As the shift progressed Yuji showed you he was the complete opposite of his older brother. Always finishing his tasks, being kind and sweet. Everyone else loved him too, just on the first day. He was stocking milk and eggs the way you had shown him, one of the last tasks of the night. The crowd of customers thinned out as it got late and the store was closer to its closing time. You watched to make sure he was doing them correctly and if he needed any help. ‘This wasn’t so bad’ you thought, closing your eyes and leaning back.

“So how’s my little brother been (name)?”

Your eyes shot open at that voice God no please. “He’s been amazing, but you can’t just put my name as a referral without asking me-” There stood a tall Sukuna in a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled back, probably coming after finishing his day job. Majority of his tattoos were covered except the lines on his wrists that were exposed, making you gulp inaudibly. Suddenly feeling underdressed in your uniform’s polo shirt and measly work pants and sweater as you stared up at his glory.

“Sorry darling, I can’t do what?” he smirked. Mentally praising himself as his plan got into action. He couldn’t lie, (name) was interesting. Always yelling at him, cursing him and swearing that she would murder him if it was the purge. His usual charm not working gave him more of a challenge. Not to mention the way she was kind to younger brother made his heart swell a little.

The annoyance returned once you saw his shit eating grin “You can’t write my name down without asking me!”

As he opened his mouth to speak, the intercom went off, notifying everyone that the store was now closed and any remaining customers should bring their purchases to the front to pay for them.

“Yuji you can go home now, I’ll put this away and start heading out myself” you say massaging your temples with your fingers.

“See you soon (name).” Sukuna winked as he walked towards the exit, waving behind at you as he went outside to wait for his brother.

---

Unfortunately soon had never come… at least not for the last 3 weeks. Making you miss the tall man in more ways than one. Maybe he wasn't so bad now that you thought about it. The usual nightly teasing might make you seethe but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t laugh about it later in your car. Somehow his laid backness and mocking smile made your night light up a little. And the weed that you would “confiscate” really did help you unwind after a long shift.

“Maybe it was because he saw me in my uniform” you grumbled. That had to be it. You weren’t a sore look on the eyes. Right? But compared to him… you hissed as you felt your lower half heat up and tremble at the thought of the man. “Well it's only 11:00 pm… and my first class is at 9:30 am… and then I have work at the 4:00.” Debating your options…. ‘This is why I’m probably so grumpy all the time, I think too much’

“And probably need to get laid” you said aloud. Living alone did have its perks, no one could call you crazy for talking to yourself. Your friends always nagged you about your dry spell too, but one night stands weren’t really fun to you anymore. They were too shallow and you always found yourself feeling more frustrated by them than relaxed.

Quickly rummaging through your drawer, you found your lovely device and turned it on. The buzz filled the room as you fell on the bed and groaned. Your mind was wild as you thought dirty little things about the man. Your eyes rolled back and you felt little whines erupt from your throat as you imagined him on top of you with his signature smirk, choking you and teasing you, calling you terrible names and whispering dirty things in your ear.

But as quickly as you heated up, the device buzzed and suddenly stopped. Too hazy to think straight you tried turning it on and off again, soon realizing it was the battery that was dead. “For fucks sake” you threw the vibrator and it hit the wall and fell with a loud thud. Good. Pulling your covers up, scowling as you shut your eyes to sleep.

The next day only went further downhill. Your lecture was long and uneventful, you forgot there was a guest speaker instead of the usual prof, most of the class skipped anyways so you sat alone and pretended to be interested. And as you went home from campus, your car broke down on the way leaving you stranded in the heat as you waited for the tow truck. You really just wanted to buy some batteries and get some time to yourself before work. But life had another thing planned once you got home, you only left with half an hour before you had to leave for work. Which barely gave you enough time to shower, change into an excuse of an outfit, grab your uniform and run out the door. You heard a few whistles as you ran to the bus stop, most likely because of the skimpy outfit which was pretty much just a long t-shirt made into a dress with stockings. But this was not the time to be picking fights.

Work was more mundane as ever. Emptying, stocking, organizing and talking was all that seemed to happen. You frowned for the nth time in the day when you saw Yuji was not scheduled to work today and you remembered him mentioning that he was going somewhere with friends for the next two days. The boy could always turn a bad day around. He was a blessing to the department and the store as a whole. The long day finally came to an end and the weekend awaited. Stuffing your uniform in your bag as you walked out you saw a familiar motorbike and a man leaning against it getting ready to light a joint.

You didn’t think, all you could hear were your footsteps smacking against the pavement as you ran to the man. Blood rushed to your head as you slowed down, stopping barely an inch away from him. He was wearing jeans and a dress shirt and most important, that smirk.

“I didn’t realize you missed me this much darling, otherwise-” but he was cut short as your hands gripped his head and pulled him down to your lips for a not so innocent kiss. You had to admit, you liked the guy. But as he responded by deepening the kiss and sliding his wet tongue into your mouth to taste you, you realized you wanted more of him. And you found yourself in his apartment, stripped down with his face buried between your legs as you came down from your second orgasm. Him licking you clean and not missing a single bit.

“When” you panted “when is Yuuji-” but he shushed you by gagging his fingers deep in your throat.

“Not until Sunday at least” he smiled with a sinister look, your wetness coating his lips “we have the whole weekend darling” He had waited almost two months for this so he was definitely going to take his time and relish the next few days. How could he not? You were beautiful with a fiery personality, and that showed by the ways you disobeyed him on his bed to get a reaction. It seemed the roles were reversed, but this time there would be consequences. For you at least.

He was relentless but you were no pussy and would not back down either. Both of you with fire and heat taking over your bodies as you brought spark and life into the night, wanting to explore every bit of each other, not stopping until you noticed the sun starting to rise causing exhaustion to take over.

He had let you stay to sleep in, provided you with a clean shirt to wear and even made breakfast for you. Presented you with a “gourmet plate of eggo waffles with the finest Aunt Jemimah maple syrup” he said which earned him a giggle from your pretty lips.

“I can make pretty good waffles from scratch” you told him proudly, puffing out your chest in pride. But these were special to you, the whole moment was special.

“I intend on trying them,” he spoke after a moment. He thought it was out of character for him to ask for a relationship but he wanted to be with you more than just a few times. And wanted more of you in different ways. He wouldn’t get his brother involved if it was a casual fuck relationship that he wanted. Which reminded him he owed the brat 50 bucks.

“Maybe you should come over sometime” you smiled sweetly, blushing a bit.

“I’d like to see you more, take out and get to know you” he said, interrupting your invitation.

“I’d like that too.” you said smiling.

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #reader inser #ryomen sukuna #yuuji itadori #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna fic #sukuna imagine

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fortheloveofwonderland · 3 years

Text

A Memory Locked In The Heart - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - Requested by the lovely @overduelibrarybooks I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for!

Find my masterlist here.

My taglists are open and requests are open.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: "could u ever write a spencer reid x reader where reader def works for the cia but more as a translator who’s kinda forced into doing agenty things in order to gather intel and on a mandated break she finds out the UNSUB before the team does so she uses herself as bait, and shoots the guy all very badass fashion n then gets interrogated bc ms girl just shot him coldblood and halfway thru she recognizes spencer bc her mother and his mom lived in the same care facility??? idk sorry my mom has paranoid too so it just hits different but u don’t have to write this if u don’t want to i love ur writing <3"

CW: disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the CIA and what they investigate so please go easy on me here. This is all made up so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. Mentions of violence and sex work, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, some swears. Mentions of drug use and overdose. Spanish used towards the end is from Google Translate so I apologise if it isn’t completely accurate. Italics indicate flashbacks.

Plot: Eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.

WC: 5.3K

—————————————————————

How did I end up here?

That was a question you kept asking yourself as you rolled into your third hour of sitting in that cold, dimly lit interrogation room at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.

Well you supposed you’d have to go back to the beginning to truly work that out.

The CIA and FBI joint task force for a country wide sex trafficking ring they believed to be operating out of DC.

When your team at the CIA had started investigating it was estimated that the ring had close to a hundred women who had been abducted and forced into the sex industry.

A lot of women were believed to have been taken trying to cross the border. Your job as a translator had involved spending a lot of time in Mexico, helping interview witnesses and family members who didn’t speak English.

The FBI involvement had come when women believed to have been part of the trafficking ring started turning up dead.

At last count they were up to twenty bodies. The Behavioural Analyst Unit had given their profile of the man they believed to be running the show.

White male in his mid to late forties. Bilingual. Possibly born in Mexico or an area surrounding the border but grew up in DC, they assumed based on his knowledge of the area. He’s attractive, charming and has a good level of education, he’d need to be able to charm the women into trusting him. He doesn’t have a full time job because he wouldn’t have time for one. All his time and focus goes on his girls. He was tech savvy, incredibly so, he’d have to be, to be able to set up the network on the dark web which enabled his customers to pay for his services.

It hadn’t been going well. Bodies kept dropping and the task force was no closer to catching the person responsible.

This went on for six months. Everyone was exhausted. You kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. It was demoralising.

Your boss had called for mandated time off. You’d all argued but she had been absolutely adamant. You’d all been working yourselves to the bone and she didn’t want you burnt out entirely.

You’d argued but your words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the lanky, messy haired agent who called himself Doctor Reid, sticking his head through the door.

“Is coffee an option?”

He smiled brightly at you, a smile you swear you’ve seen before.

“Coffee is always an option.” He told you. “How do you take it?”

“Strong and black. Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With that the door closed leaving you to your thoughts once more.

There was something so familiar about the Doctor. His dark yet sparkling eyes, his awkward smile and the way he dressed. You couldn’t place it. But there was definitely something about him that stirred some memory buried deep in your brain. You just weren’t sure what it was.

He returned a few minutes later, bringing your coffee into the room and placing it on the table in front of you.

“Hopefully you won’t be stuck here too much longer. It’s just standard procedure.” he spoke sweetly, his voice stirring the hidden memory.

“Yeah I know. I get it.” you sighed as you spoke, wrapping your hands around the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled before he started backing out of the room. You wished you could ask him to stay because you felt so much more at ease with him around. But you knew you couldn’t.

He turned to you in the doorway.

“You look cold in that.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

You’d forgotten about your outfit choice. No self respecting CIA agent dressed like you were right now.

“I guess I am a little.” You shrugged.

Spencer instantly shrugged his blazer off of his shoulders and laid it in front of you on the table.

“Thank you Doctor Reid.” you spoke again before he disappeared out the door.

“Goodbye Agent Y/L/N.”

The door closed, his voice reverberating in your ears, dragging you into a long forgotten memory.

As you slipped his jacket on, your eyes fluttered closed, his scent wafting up your nose.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes shot back open, a frown on your face.

“Spencer?” you muttered under your breath. “Spencer Reid.”

Where had you pulled that name from? And why did it feel oddly connected to Vegas?

You tried to push the thought away, you already had enough on your mind. There were much more pressing things to deal with than a vague memory from your hometown an undetermined amount of time ago.

***

You’d been instructed to switch off. Your time off should be used to recoup, relax and not to think about the case.

Easier said than done you thought.

Before you’d left the office on your mandated leave you’d taken photocopies of some files and slipped them into your bag. You knew you’d be in trouble if you were caught but you couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to relax with this case still open.

As far as you were aware the BAU was still working on it but it provided you little comfort. In your time with the CIA you’d never gotten to be involved so heavily in a case. Your skills were mostly utilised in interview capacities and then you were sidelined.

You’d never had the privilege to work on a joint task force or investigate a crime so brutal.

You felt personally invested in this case. You thought if you could just find that one missing puzzle piece you could crack this case wide open.

And then you’d found it. The golden ticket. The smoking gun. The missing piece.

It had taken five days of your leave and copious amounts of coffee but you’d connected the dots no one else had.

You knew how to draw the unsub out. And you were going to do it tonight.

***

“Let’s start again from the beginning shall we?” Agent Rossi linked his fingers together on top of the table as he looked across at you, still slowly sipping your coffee.

“Oh goody.” You sighed. “Could Agent Jareau not fill you in what I’ve already told her?”

“Humour me.” The old man shrugged.

You didn’t have any ill will against him. Far from it. You were actually a big fan of David Rossi. But you were sick and tired of being treated like a criminal.

“Tell me how you managed to work out how to find him.”

You took another long sip of the coffee.

“All the pieces were there, they just hadn’t been put into place.”

“And how did you piece them together?”

“There was a pattern to where the women had been last seen. It was a guess more than anything. A lucky guess.”

“And the pattern was?”

You sighed in frustration.

“As I told agent Jareau,” you sipped your coffee. “The bars they were last seen in all had ties to Mexico. I’m not a native to DC but I know the area like the back of my hand. They were all either Mexican owned, had a Mexican name or were previously establishments such as Mexican restaurants. I made an educated guess that he frequented places such as these looking for his targets. I just got lucky I picked the right one.”

***

You felt incredibly exposed, but you supposed that was the point.

If you were going to get this guy's attention, you had to do this right.

It was a long shot. Just because Western’s bar was known for its famous tacos did not mean it would be the place he chose to pick up girls.

You just had to hope.

You wore a skimpy skirt that barely covered your ass, knee high boots and a crop top that accentuated your assets.

Your firearm was hidden in your left boot.

Your outfit garnered a lot of looks as you headed through Westerns towards the bar.

You felt men’s eyes on you from every angle, making you feel extremely self conscious. But you needed to keep your cool, exude confidence.

If your guy was here he needed to see you shine.

You ordered a soda to keep your head clear and sat at a table over the far side of the bar. From there you had a good view of the entrance and most of the room. And more importantly, the room had a view of you.

Three hours you sat there nursing your soda. It was a huge stab in the dark, you weren’t really surprised.

You finished your drink and headed out onto the cool DC street.

You made it five steps before you felt a presence behind you.

Just as you were about to turn, something covered your mouth.

You struggled against a pair of strong arms.

A smell wafted up your nose seconds before you lost consciousness.

Chloroform.

***

“Why didn’t you tell your unit chief before you went in?”

“Because I thought it was a long shot.” And because she would have been furious I was working the case.

“So you chose to use yourself as bait?”

“Yes.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Yes agent Rossi, I’m well aware. But I had a lead and I wasn’t going to ignore it.” You pulled Doctor Reid’s jacket tighter around your scantily clad body.

You caught his scent again. Coffee. Old books. A hint of peppermint.

Another long shut off memory wormed it’s way to the surface.

“So are you here visiting someone?”

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “My mom.”

“Oh.” He returned your sad smile. “Me too.”

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You were brought back by Rossi’s concerned voice.

“Hmm?”

“I said, what happened next? You were chloroformed and then what?”

You shook your head, your mind clouded.

“Can we take a break? I could really use some air.”

Rossi sighed with a small nod.

He stood from his chair and motioned you to follow him.

You got some odd looks from his fellow agents as he led you to the elevators. They all recognised what you were wearing as Spencer’s jacket.

You followed Rossi into the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Agent Rossi, can I ask you a strange question?” You asked as the doors closed.

He gave you a curious look.

“I suppose.”

“Doctor Reid. As in Spencer Reid?”

“The one and only.” Rossi frowned unsure what you were getting at.

“Where is he from?”

Rossi’s frown deepened, not sure he should tell you such things about his team. But you were an agent and you didn’t pose a threat to the team.

“Vegas I believe.”

Vegas. Of course.

“Ok.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” You chewed your lip. “I think I might have known him.”

“Oh?”

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. This was not the time or place.

“I’m probably wrong. Just forget I said anything.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As you stepped out you pulled Spencer’s collar to your nose and sniffed it.

No you weren’t wrong.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Hi again.” You smiled at the lanky man, Spencer you’d met a few days ago. “How’s your mom?”

“Still angry at me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“She came in recently?”

“Yeah a few months ago. I turned eighteen and I was able to have her put into care.” He blanched, clearly feeling guilty for his decision.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“Uhm sure.” He shrugged.

He followed you through to the day room. It was late and there were only a few patients inside and a few nurses milling around.

You got two cups of coffee from the machine and the two of you sat at a table together.

“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your mom?” You dared as you slid him the drink.

He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip as though his life depended on it.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic.” He spoke clinically, words he’d had to say too many times in his life. It was as though he’d distanced himself from it. Like he was giving a patient a diagnosis rather than talking about his own mother.

“Mine too.” You gave him a wry smile. You had something in common, just not something you would like to have in common.

“How long has your mom been here?”

“Three years. She got really bad and my dad couldn’t take care of her anymore. She’s been doing much better since she moved in here.”

“That’s good.” Spencer nodded. “I hope my mom realises I did this for her. For her well being. At the moment she’s just so...angry.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on top of his. He seemed a little startled by the physical touch but you didn’t move your hand.

“This is the best place for her. I assume from what you said earlier your dad isn’t in the picture?”

He used his free hand to sip his coffee with a sad shake of his head.

“He left when I was ten. He couldn’t handle mom's illness.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to look after her by yourself. It was hard enough with my dad there. Really makes you grow up fast.”

“It really does.” He agreed. “I’m not sure I ever got to be a kid.”

“I know that feeling.”

After that you spent hours chatting about anything and everything until way into the night. It wasn’t until a nurse came and asked you politely to leave that you realised how late it was.

“I’ll probably see you around?” You spoke as you stepped outside together.

“Maybe. In a few weeks I’m heading out of state. I’m working on a PhD.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually his second PhD.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to hide the disappointment from your voice.

Despite the circumstances you’d enjoyed talking to someone like minded, someone who understood. You didn’t have anyone else your own age you could talk to about this kind of thing.

“Maybe we could exchange numbers?” You blushed a little.

“I don’t have a cellphone.” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“It’s not an excuse.” He sensed you didn’t believe him. “I’m not so into technology. I don’t even have email.”

Normally you would have thought it was just a bad excuse to get out of seeing you again but the look on Spencer’s face told you he was being genuine.

“Ok.” You gave him a shy smile. “Well maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

“I hope so.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you on the dark street.

There was an air between you, some kind of thick tension but you didn’t know what it meant.

“If I don’t see you again,” you spoke trying to ignore whatever it was. “It was really good to meet you and I hope your mom gets used to the facility.”

“You too.” He smiled so genuinely at you, it made your heart skip a beat.

And then you went your separate ways.

***

“Ok, so what happened next?” Rossi wasted no time once you were back in the interrogation room.

“Well I blacked out after I was chloroformed so excuse me if I don’t remember.” You gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What’s the next thing you do remember?” He reworded his question.

“I woke up in a large basement. It was gritty and dingy. And there were other women there too.”

“How many?”

“At least twenty.” You sighed letting your mind travel back to the basement you never wanted to go back to. Not even in your mind.

***

You woke with a start, your head pounding. You gasped for air as though you’d been drowning.

You blinked your eyes trying to adjust to the dark room you found yourself in.

It was cold and damp and you could hear a pipe dripping in the distance.

You tried to roll over but your arm wouldn’t budge. You were met by a loud clanking sound when you tried.

You tugged your arm, hearing the same sound and being met with a sharp pain in your wrist.

“Good luck.” A woman’s voice scoffed. “They don’t come loose.”

You blinked a few more times, looking over to your left arm. There was a heavy metal cuff right around your wrist that was attached to a metal bed frame.

That’s when you realised you were laying on a small cot on top of a ratty, itchy blanket. You were still dressed, thank god.

You suddenly remembered your firearm concealed in your boot. You patted your left calf and sure enough you felt the hard weapon still inside.

That was something at least.

Oversight on their part.

You remembered the voice you’d heard before and turned as much as you could with your arm cuffed to take in the rest of the room.

There were at least forty other cots close together lining the walls, with at least half of them containing the body of other women.

The voice you’d heard belonged to a woman in the cot next to you. She gave you a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes were broken.

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m Y/N.”

“Delilah.” Her accent was Spanish. You were sure Delilah wasn’t her real name either.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighed, playing with a strand of curly black hair.

“What month is it?”

“September.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Not that long then. I’ve been here since July.” She looked confused as though that couldn’t be long enough.

“Delilah?” You narrowed your eyes on her. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018…” she saw your face drop and knew instantly it was no longer 2018.

“Oh gosh.” You felt for her, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s 2020.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Wow.”

“It’s ok.” You lowered your voice. “I’m CIA. I’m going to get us out of here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

***

“Delilah.” Rossi opened the file in front of him. “Was that Roberta Suez?”

He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. You averted your gaze.

“Yes and please I don’t need to see it, I was there.”

“How did she end up in hospital fighting for her life?”

“You know how.” You huffed. “Look I’m starting to get fed up with this now.” You folded your arms. “Carlos Ramirez was a sick son of a bitch. If I hadn’t done what I did he would have killed all those women. I don’t regret what I did.”

“How did she end up in hospital?” He repeated.

“Good lord.” You grumbled. “I’ll talk but I don’t want to talk to you.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes on you.

“No? But I’m so compassionate.” He spoke sarcastically.

“I won’t say another word unless it’s to Reid.” You looked up to the two way mirror. You didn’t know why but you had a feeling he was there.

Sure enough it was barely twenty seconds before the door opened and Doctor Reid himself stepped in the room.

“I got this Rossi.” Spencer told the older man who stood up with a shrug.

Rossi left the room while Spencer took the seat he’d been occupying.

Did he remember you? It had been close to twenty years since you’d last seen each other. Had it not been for the olfactory memory that struck you when you put on his jacket you might never have remembered him.

But you knew the rest of his team was behind the two way glass, or at least some of them were so it didn’t seem an appropriate time to ask such things.

“So agent Y/L/N,” he smiled softly at you. “Can you please tell me how Delilah ended up in hospital?”

“You already know the answer to that Doctor but since you asked so nicely,” you leant your elbows on the table, entwined your fingers and rested your chin the little bridge you’d created. “She had a drug overdose. But you and I both know it wasn’t her who administered the drugs.”

“And who did?”

“I did.”

Your words hung in the air between you and Spencer. He knew the answer, the whole team did. You’d already told Agent Jareau everything.

This was a huge waste of time.

“I administered the drugs because he told me if I didn’t he would kill me. I needed to stay alive so I could save those women.”

“Who said he would kill you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“It wasn’t Ramirez?”

“No.” You shook your head. “If it was Ramirez I would have shot him. But it must have been one of his right hand men.”

“How would you know that? You’d never met Ramirez correct?” Spencer had a soft tone to his voice which made his line of questioning easier than Agent Jareau’s.

“I’m not a profiler but I’ve been to enough seminars over the years. He didn’t fit the bill. He was young, scatty, he didn’t strike as much fear into the other women as I thought the boss would. I made an educated guess and I was right. If I’d shot at him I would have blown my chance at getting Ramirez.”

***

“Shit shit shit!” You pulled yourself as close to Delilah’s cot as possible with your restraint. “Delilah, keep breathing, try to breath. Fuck I am sorry.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the empty needle you’d been made to inject in her vein between your cots on the floor.

He’d held a gun to your head and said he would shoot you if you didn’t do it. You didn’t think he was bluffing.

“It happens a lot.” A woman opposite spoke up. “You’ll soon find out. If she wakes up she’ll have the pleasure of returning the favour.” She gave you an almost manic grin.

If she wakes up. It was the if you were having the issue with.

“Who’s in charge around here?”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know his name. Big guy. Tattoos. Mustache. You can’t miss him.”

“Does he come down here often?”

Again she shrugged.

“Being down here you have a way of losing track of time.” She clicked her tongue. “But he’ll be here for you later. He has to test his new girls.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Test?” You swallowed, pretty sure you knew what she meant.

“He can’t very well expect you to make him money if he doesn’t know how good you are.”

Oh god.

Your heartbeat raced. No, it was not going to come to that. You were a CIA agent and you were armed.

It was not going to come to that.

***

Spencer’s face paled a little at your words. You hadn’t told Agent Jareau that part.

“He was going to...he didn’t…”

“No.” You cut him off, pushing the memory back down. “I had a gun, remember.”

You offered him a wry smile.

“So you know what comes next.”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

The way he said it was more like he was a therapist than an FBI agent. As though he wanted you to tell him so you could get it off your chest, unburden yourself, rather than for interrogation purposes.

“Ok.” You nodded. “He came for me later that night. And that’s when it happened.”

***

“Ahh look at you.”

A deep, Spanish voice woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open and landed on a strong, tattooed man with a mustache standing over your cot.

This must be him.

“Tan hermosa.”

So beautiful.

You tried not to shudder.

You sat up wiggling your legs in your boots to make sure you could still feel your firearm. You could.

“Su nombre es Rosa.”

Your name is Rosa.

Guess again.

“Su nombre es Y/N.”

“Tú hablas español?”

You speak Spanish?

“Si.”

“Eres perfecta.” He grinned menacingly. “My clients will love you.”

He reached in his pocket and fished out a key chain. He reached over you and unlocked your cuff.

You rolled your wrist to try and get your blood circulating again.

“On your feet.”

You complied and stood up. Your legs were shaky.

He grasped your wrist, hard enough so you couldn’t wriggle free but not hard enough to leave a mark. He started dragging you across the room.

With his free hand he undid the four locks on the large steel door and pulled your through it. Once on the other side he took care to lock them all again, keeping a firm grasp on you the whole time.

You were dragged down a long, narrow corridor towards another steel door, this one with just one lock on.

He slid the key in and opened it, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

The room was much smaller than the one you’d been held in and only housed a single cot.

He licked his lip as he looked at you. His large, thick fingers stroked your cheek and you had to try and hide your disgust.

“En la cama. Ahora.”

On the bed. Now.

You had to pick the opportune moment. You had to plan this just right. You had no doubt he had a gun on him so if you faltered even slightly, he would kill you.

“Qué tal esto.”

How about this.

You made a show of licking your lips and then dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Whoa, feisty. I like it.” He grinned, his meaty hands going to his belt buckle.

Yes. Right where you wanted him.

While he was fumbling with his belt, you reached your hand back into your left boot, drawing your gun in one swift move.

You head butted him in the crotch, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain.

“Mierda!” Shit. “Usted puta!”

You whore!

You were on your feet in a second, your gun trained on him.

“You will never hurt another woman again.” You spat, furious tears suddenly streaming from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his mouth opened to speak.

But the words didn’t come out as your bullet hit him between the eyes.

“Who’s the puta now?”

***

“I would say,” Spencer chewed his lip. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “And I did. If I hadn’t shot him, who knows how many other women would have died.”

Spencer pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Just so you know, we got word from the hospital a little while ago. Roberta Suez, Delilah, is going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You felt tears brimming your eyes.

He opened the door and turned back to you.

“Are you coming?”

“I can leave?”

“You were never under arrest.” He smirked at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You got up from the chair and Spencer motioned you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out.” He showed you across the bullpen towards the elevators. There was an awkward air between the two of you.

Did you say anything? It didn’t seem as though he remembered you, was it worth reminding him?

He motioned you into the elevator first and he followed, pressing the button.

The elevator started its descent.

Time was running out.

“So uhm…” Spencer turned to you and turned too. “How’s your mom?”

A smile broke out on your features.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I recognised you the second you walked in.”

“It’s been twenty years.” You laughed.

“Eighteen years, seven months.” He corrected you. “But I could never forget your face.”

You blushed a little, averting your gaze.

“My moms doing ok. Thanks for asking. How’s your mom?” You looked back at him.

“Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” He told you sadly.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. These things happen.” He shrugged. “Made it to thirty without having a schizophrenic break but now I have to wait until I’m older to find out if I’ll develop Alzheimer’s.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped out, Spencer close behind.

“I really am sorry Spencer.”

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. “Is your mom still at Bennington? I used to see her when I went to visit my mom but I moved her out a little while ago.”

“Yeah she’s still there. She likes being close to my dad.”

You both hovered by the exit, not ready to say goodbye.

“Can I take you for coffee? If you don’t have anywhere else to be.” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“I’d like that. A lot actually. But I’d really like to shower and change out of this getup.” You laughed. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” He grinned at you.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you made it to the door Spencer spoke again.

“Y/N,” he called your name, his voice cracking a little. “You uh...you forgot something.”

You turned to face him curiously.

He walked closer to you and without a second thought, placed his hands on your face and kissed you.

For a second you stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

But after a few moments you wrapped your arms around his neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you were both smiling at one another.

“What was that for?” You asked softly.

“Oh you know…” he shrugged with a coy smile. “Just something that needed to be done.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” You told him, touching his chest briefly.

“Ok.”

“Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.” He croaked.

And with that you sauntered out the doors but not out of his life.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Spencer?” You’d only made it a few paces away from Bennington before you stopped in your tracks, calling his name. “You uh...you forgot something.”

He turned to face you curiously.

You walked closer to him and without a second thought, placed your hands on his face and kissed him.

He stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

It was just a brief kiss, Spencer was too confused to do anything but stand there dumbly.

“Wh-what was that for?” He swallowed.

“Just something that needed to be done.” You smiled. “Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.”

And with that you sauntered back down the street, hoping that one day, the universe would lead you back into each other’s lives.

—————————————————————

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added) -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #jennifer jareau #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader

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ratofthemedievalsewers · 3 years

Text

Heart of Steel - Part I

DBH Connor x Male Reader

Word Count: 2.5K+

Content warning: Minor injury detail, PTSD, language

Original game dialogue I got from this video:

https://youtu.be/32Np9LKI1Vg

We were attacked in the night.

After returning from a mission back to an outpost several miles from the red zone, we removed our gear save for a few pouches on our belts we could bother with later. Our team leader set up a fire while the SQ800s, CyberLife commissioned combat androids, began loading up the trucks with extra artillery and resources. A job that could have waited until morning, but Alpha always gave the androids something to do. He said that they creeped him out when they would just stand there in a dormant state, waiting for their next mission to be given to them.

"You know what I'm going to do when I get home?"

"Here we go again."

"I'm going to get me a WR400," Foxtrot; not everyone's favourite but he certainly kept us entertained when there was nothing to do.

"Uh-huh and with what money are you going to be using to pay for this WR400? A military salary definitely ain't gonna cut it." Echo always called out Foxtrot's bullshit, he was the only one that had the patience to deal with him.

"Fine, my birthday is comin' up, if you put towards two-thirds of what it costs we can share. How does that sound?"

"I am not sharing anything with you, I don't know what diseases you carry." Their constant back forth sent chuckles through the group.

"Alright, that's enough you two. It's getting late and past everyone's bedtime, I want you all awake by O-five-hundred at the latest," Alpha would often stop them before Foxtrot would take it too far, but he could never hide the twitching smile on his face.

"Yes sir," Foxtrot mock saluted as he stood from his seat around the campfire. "Hey Echo, that offer is still-"

One moment Foxtrot had a wide grin on his face, the next there was a hole in his head between his eyes, the sound of gunshot ringing in everyone's ears.

"SHOTS FIRED! GET TO COVER NOW!"

"FOXTROT IS DOWN! I REPEAT, FOXTROT IS DOWN!"

It was dark, we couldn't see where they were firing from. The android was the only one still standing, firing off in random directions as they were gunned down. The next was Delta, shot in the left shoulder, then the throat. My gun was back in my tent and there was no chance of me getting it. Stupid.

"MEDIC! GET TO DELTA! NOW!"

"GRENADE!"

I heard the thump by my feet before I saw it. You would think it would be terrifying, to know you're staring death in the face, but for a second it was peaceful. My body was cold and I already felt like a corpse, the Rigour Mortis freezing me in place, just softly gazing at what would kill me.

Something grabbed me before the grenade exploded, saving my life but destroying the android.

The bedsheets were crumpled and soaked in sweat again when my eyes shot open. It was hard to breathe, the panic was still running through me and closing up my throat at the memory.

In; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four. Out; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four.

It took a few minutes for me to remember where I was. That I was home and that I was safe. Out of nervous habit, I gripped my dog tags, they were wet from the sweat that had soaked through my shirt in the night.

"Shit." It was four in the morning, there was no chance of getting any more sleep and the station wouldn't be open for another two more hours at the least. Saying that; Fowler wanted to speak to me first thing, which never meant anything good for anyone.

It was aching again at the joint. The biomechanical component always felt itchy where it joined at the elbow. Anytime I would have that dream I would scratch at it in my sleep, it was like my subconscious knew it didn't belong. It knew my rotting left arm was still in the desert somewhere being picked apart by vultures.

It's almost ironic; to be saved by an android and then to have part of one attached to me. I hated it.

*****

"Morning Cyborg, you look like shit." Gavin was forever pleasant to talk to.

"Fuck off, Reed." He constantly hovered around the coffee machine, hogging it like it was his newborn baby. "Is Fowler in yet?"

"Not yet, you in trouble?" He took his time making his coffee, exceeding in being the department's resident asshat. "Did he catch you looking at porn on your work terminal again?"

"I'm pretty sure that's only ever happened to you." Not wanting to be reminded of his previous escapades I got no response. Gavin let out a small huff before moving to the side with his fresh cup of coffee, freeing up the machine.

"Officer (L/N)." Oh for fuck's sake.

"Sir?" Captain Fowler stood outside his office, his coat half soaked from the rain.

"My office, I need to speak to you." He didn't give a second glance to me before turning and letting the glass door shut behind him.

"Ha, good luck cyborg." Shooting Gavin the middle finger, I followed Captian Fowler into his office.

"What was it you wished to talk about, sir?" Feet shoulder-width apart, back straight and hands behind my back; habits from the army were destined to die hard. Often I would find myself moving my hand up to salute before leaving the presence of a superior, something else for Gavin to make fun of.

"You're aware of the deviant cases I've assigned to Lieutenant Anderson, correct?" Fowler sat at his desk, wet coat now hung on its rack, but there was slight dampness to his suit blazer where his coat had been left open.

"Yes sir. I believe he's being accompanied by a prototype RK800 from Cyberlife."

"That's correct. I'm sure you're aware that these deviancy cases are on the more..."

"Dangerous?"

"...Unpredictable side. Now, I can't exactly issue a gun to a prototype android if it's going to be in the field and, while I value Hank as a police officer, his record is on the rougher side."

"Captain Fowler, with all due respect, I don't believe-"

"Office (L/N), with all due respect, you don't have an opinion in this matter. I want you to accompany Lieutenant Anderson in these assignments just in case a deviant becomes too much for him or this android to handle. You've certainly got the skillset for it and you're not unfamiliar with working alongside androids, unlike quite a few officers in this department."

"I understand that, but-"

"Whatever you're gonna say I don't want to hear it." Captain Fowler didn't give me a chance to argue as he stood and walked to his office door, the annoyed look on his face worsening. "Hank, in my office!"

I let out a sigh before Captain Fowler turned back to his desk. Through the office wall made of glass Hank reluctantly made his way towards us grumbling something under his breath at the request, the RK800 model obediently following behind him like a little, lost puppy. Hank sat in the chair opposite Fowler while the android stood next to me, giving a small smile as a greeting.

Captain Fowler was the first to talk, "I've got ten new cases involving androids on my desk every day. We've always had isolated incidents, old ladies losing their android maids and that kind of crap... But now, we're getting reports of assaults and even homicides, like that guy last night. This isn't just cyberlife's problem anymore, it's now a criminal investigation and we've gotta deal with it before the shit hits the fan. I want you to investigate these cases, alongside officer (L/N) and see if there's any link."

"Why me? And why do I need a god damned partner? A stupid android is already too much. Why do I gotta be the one to deal with this shit?" Props to Hank for trying, but arguing with Fowler was like talking to a brick wall. "I am the least qualified cop in the country to handle this case! I know jack shit about androids, Jeffery. I can barely change the settings on my own phone."

"Everybody's overloaded. I think you're perfectly qualified for this type of investigation," They were already starting to blow up at each other.

"Bullshit! The truth is nobody wants to investigate these fuckin' androids and you left me holdin' the bag!"

"CyberLife sent over this android to help with this investigation and I've given you (L/N) as well. You've got a state of the art prototype and a leading police officer to act as your partners."

"No fuckin' way! I don't need partners, and certainly not this plastic prick and some action hero fucker."

"Nice working with you too, Lieutenant Anderson," I said under my breath, not intending for the others to hear. Connor turned his head slightly in my direction, I could see his LED blink yellow for a moment before going back to its bright blue.

"Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off! You are a police lieutenant, you are supposed to do what I say and shut your goddamn mouth!"

"You know what my goddamn mouth has to say to you, huh?"

"I'll pretend like I didn't hear that, so I don't have to add any more pages to your disciplinary folder 'cause it already looks like a fuckin' novel! This conversation is over."

"Jeffrey, Jesus Christ! Why are you doin' this to me? You know how much I hate these fuckin' things. Why are you doin' this to me?" Most of the department knew why he had such a distaste towards androids, no one could necessarily blame him. Ever since losing his son Hank had become completely different as both a person and an officer. Admittedly, Fowler was harsh on him, but if he wasn't then Hank would drift.

"I've had just enough of your bitching. Either you do your job or you hand in your badge. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." Hank left in a strop, letting out his frustration on Fowler's office door.

"Well then..." Connor was quick to break the tense silence. His voice caught me off guard, it was smoother, more human than any android's I had heard before. The SQ800's voices had always been more robotic than other models so it had been a shock when the androids back home had sounded so normal, it felt like that all over again. It was jarring. "I won't keep you any longer. Have a nice day captain."

Connor left and I followed behind, giving a small nod of dismissal to Fowler despite him still looking at his terminal screen.

The android went straight to Hank either oblivious or ignoring the lieutenant's current bad mood, granted there was never a time the bastard was in a good mood. Heaven itself could rain down on Detroit and he'd huff at it like a hair in his food.

"I got the impression my presence causes you some inconvenience, Lieutenant. I'd like you to know I'm very sorry about that. In any case, I'd like you to know I'm very to be working with you." Ever the enthusiast.

"I'd give in now. You're talking to a toddler in a fifty-year old's body and the toddler is having a hissy fit." I half sat and half leant against Hank's desk, using my arms to support my weight.

"Apologies, I don't believe I've introduced myself. My name is Connor, I am the android sent by CyberLife." He turned to me, a gentle and manufactured smile on his face. "It's a pleasure to be working with you too, officer (L/N). I'm sure we'll make a great team."

"Er... (Y/N) is just fine."

"Is there a desk anywhere I could use?"

"No one's using that one." Hank points to the desk opposite him, while still sulking like a child.

"Gasp, it speaks," I said in a sarcastic tone while turning to Hank.

"Fuck off. I've already got an android on my ass, I don't need you on it too."

I grabbed a terminal pad before perching myself back at the edge of Hank's desk while Connor got comfortable at the empty one. The light at the side of his head flashing yellow for a moment like he was hesitant to speak."You have a dog, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"The dog hairs on your chair. I like dogs. What's your dog's name?"

"What's it to you?" Hank shifted in his seat, "...Sumo... I call him Sumo."

"Under all those shitty shirts and questionable stains there's a warm, beating heart," I say more to myself than the other two, skimming over the recent case files sent in by Fowler.

"Officer (L/N)... (Y/N), knowing that we'd be working together I read your academy and field records. You have quite an interesting background."

"Oh yeah, then you understand that I may be a little driven to get these cases over with. I can't say I'm a fan of you terminators."

"I understand you have a... warped view of androids due to what you've experienced, but I hope you understand that I am your partner and not your enemy."

"Connor, you're not my partner, you're cyberlife's latest gizmo for us kick around." I sigh, turning to sit at my desk adjacent to hanks, taking the terminal pad with me. "Just look through the deviant case files. Terminals on your desk, knock yourself out."

They're nothing but machines. They are not your friends.

"Two-hundred and forty-three files, the first date back nine months. It all started in Detroit... And quickly spread across the country." Connor had only connected the terminal moments before.

"Don't work your CPU too hard," I mutter under my breath, catching a quick huff of amusement from Hank.

"An AX400 is reported to have murdered a man last night. That could be a good starting point for our investigation." Hank was doing his best to pretend Connor didn't exist, but the android was persistent. Connor stood from his chair and made his way into Hank's personal space.

"Uh, Jesus..." Hank turned his chair away.

"I understand you're facing personal issues, Lieutenant, but you need to move past them and-" For an android, Connor has some balls on him.

"Hey! Don't talk to me like you know me. I'm not your friend and I don't need your advice, okay?" Hank's mood had soured like milk, it wouldn't be long until Fowler was adding another page to Hank's disciplinary folder.

"I've been assigned this mission Lieutenant, I didn't come here to wait until you feel like working."

"Connor, you're just gonna-" I had wasted my breath, Hank had already stood and was grabbing onto Connor by the collar of his Cyberlife jacket and slamming against the screen next to his desk. "Hank!"

"Listen asshole. If it were up to me, I'd rather throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off... or things are gonna get nasty."

"Hank," I placed a hand on his shoulder to try and lightly pull him away from Connor but only earned a nasty side-eye. "Leave off him, you don't get paid enough to replace him."

"Lieutenant... Officer (L/N), uh... sorry to disturb you," Looks like the tin can was saved before Hank could knock the light out of him, "I have some information on the AX400 that killed that guy last night. It's been sighted in the Ravendale district."

"I'm on it." Hank didn't glance back when he dropped Connor's collar. The puppy dog look on his face almost made me feel bad for him... almost.

"Come on, WALL-E. Don't want to keep the old man waiting."

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #dbh fanfic #dbh x reader #dbh x male reader #connor x male reader #connor rk800 #male reader #m! reader #connor x m!reader

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

Congratulations on 500 followers!! Could you do nr 2 with Tom please <3

thankyou <33 im very in my feels abt friends to lover atm, so ik this is a completely unoriginal concept but here we are

warning: nothing much- maybe homesickness? (+ the fact tom has poor choice in popcorn )

^^^ sorry I couldn't not put this on here and I will reuse it lots n lots

/////////////////////////

“Right I got two options annnnddddd there is only one correct answer.” Tom hummed up at you, pulling his tired gaze away from the phone screen and up towards the kitchen where you were standing triumphantly - having just raided his cupboards. From behind your back you whipped out a bag of popcorn in each hand.

“Sweet…. or salty?” Sighing with a small chuckle Tom shook his head at your playfulness. He didn’t know how you did it but you always always made his smile.

“I’m not a psychopath…” You huffed in relief, already turning around to throw the salty back in the cupboard where it belonged. “So salty of course.”

You were trapped in a house with an absolute psychopath.

You scowled at him, for having such poor taste, expecting some sort of argument to start. That wasn’t the case though, instead he just stared at you expectantly.

He must really really be unhappy.

You’d sensed it on set that morning - it wasn’t hard to miss. Not when it was your best friend, who for the past two months you’d been spending at least 6 hours a day with whilst shooting. Even when you were supposed to have a day off, when Tom had some solo shots or vice versa, you’d still come to keep the other company. It didn’t make sense but you both just sort of liked it that way.

This wasn’t your first rodeo working together either. Your first joint project had been almost four years ago, when both of you were barely adults, still figuring everything out. Ever since it had been bumping into each other every so often, always with an easy and effortless relationship.

Your current director had noted your chemistry at an awards show (the man never switched off) and decided in that moment he HAD to cast you together for a project. And a year later, here you both were, shooting in Australia for what was set to be a record breaking new release.

And it had been going great - better than great even. But as soon as Tom had shown up to makeup this morning, you’d known something was up. It was fair to assume it was something from home, maybe even just a bit of homesickness, or perhaps something more severe. Either way, the situation was probably exacerbated by the fact he didn’t have his brother or bestfriend or manager or normal syltist with him right now. Tom was pretty renowned within the industry for always having a massive entourage - which was normally made up with his family and friends. This time though he was going it solo.

Today had been long and you’d had to do press at stupid oclock in the morning last night for your current release - which meant your plan had always been to leave promptly and collapse into bed as soon as physically possible.

But Tom needed your company. So you hadn’t. Instead, you’d somewhat subtly invited yourself to his rented house for a movie night - blaming it on your director wanting you both to study the relationship dynamics in ‘out of sight’ (a J Lo and Clooney romance movie).

“You think you know a person and then they loose all your respect… just like that.” You sigh jokingly, gesturing to the bag of ‘foul’ popcorn your costar seemed to like.

“Well we’ve come to a crossroads.”

“It’s been nice knowing you but this…” you scoffed and dramatically rolled your eyes “… I see no way out.”

“Isn’t it better if we have a bag each? Then I might manage to actually get some before you scoff them all.”

You yelped in protest, though really you were just grateful he was still up for a bit of a laugh. He had been much less jokey the whole day, though was seeming to warm up a bit.

Once you had poured the two bags of popcorn into two separate bowels and prepared the film on TV; you plopped yourself onto Tom’s sofa, so your back was against the corner and your feet were over his lap (it wasn’t weird, just normal for the two of you). Instinctively, Tom lightly grabbed your ankles, repositioning you on his thigh slightly before leaning across the pull the blanket over the both of you. Whilst he smoothed out the crinkles in the fluffy navy fabric you took the opportunity to poke your toe into his side - garnering his attention.

“I take it you don’t wanna talk about it?” After he froze, Tom then nodded jerkily. “But if you change your mind, you know I’m here right?” His demeanour changed at your second statement as his body literally sagged into the cushions, with a grateful if small smile.

He respond by mouthing an ‘I know’ and that was enough for you. Shuffling down the side a bit you pressed play, settling in for the evening. Tom still had a hand resting on your ankles, occasionally rubbing his thumb up and down the bony bit.

Honestly you didn’t really see what your director was going on about when he raved about their on screen chemistry and it seemed that neither did Tom. It wasn’t a scathing commentary that gave it away, instead it was his silence. Which you quickly realised was the he had drifted off, his head lolling a little so he was facing you, palms now completely lax on your legs. It was whilst you were just taking in the sight before you, that a buzzing cut through the otherwise soft noise from the TV - which you had turned down for Tom’s sake.

It wasn’t your phone but you instinctively still reached for it from the coffee table and seeing that the name just read “Harry H” you thought it’d be fine to answer.

“Harry?” You whispered into the receiver, slightly cupping your hand round your mouth just to make sure you weren’t too loud for Tom.

“Hello?”

“Harry it’s me”

“Who?” You’d met Harry countless times, though given the fact Tom had been alone all shoot - you shouldn’t of expected the kid to be able to recognise your voice.

“Oh sorry Y/n um Y/n L/n”

“Oh no my fault sorry Y/n. How are you?” The conversation was jilted, you could practically feel the awkward energy radiating all the way from the otherside of the world.

“I’m alright thanks, how about you.”

“Yeh not bad I uhm… I - is my brother there?” Oooh. How to answer that question.

“Um sort of, we er… we were having a movie night and he’s fallen asleep. It’s why I’m whispering like a weirdo.” Harry laughed at that and you continued. “Is everything okay? You need me to wake him?”

“No no, mum just said he was having a rough time so was going to cheer him up with my exquisite sense of humour but if you’ve bored him to death then no need.”

“What can I say I’m just talented. Anyway I should be heading back to mine anyway so um I’ll let you go?”

“Oh yeh no worries, and uhm thanks-um thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

“Someone has to” You chuckled softly back, before bidding a final farewell to Harry.

Having hung up the phone, you leaned over to gently place it back on the coffee table but making a mental note to put it on charge before you left. Your next job was to manoeuvre your legs away from him without disturbing him but before you could even start planning the movement, you noticed his weary eyes blinked over at you. Freezing, your mouth made a little ‘o’ shape as you winced at yourself for disrupting his peace - today really wasn’t the day for that. There was a silence as Tom swallowed thickly, attempting to shake off the heavy lull of rest before he spoke. “Will you stay with me… please.”

Undoubtedly, your body didn’t play it as cool as you wanted it to. Thinking you’d heard him wrong, your chin protruded forward and his eyes widened. “ Sorry not like-not like that just um-just on the sofa… theres-theres spare blankets and I can-“

“-course T, no worries…Oh and um your brother just phoned if you-“

“I know.” He spoke softly and with a nod, but didn’t move at all, apparently no interest in calling his brother back.

With a stammered nod, you stood up, finally removing your legs from his touch in order to nip to the loo. You splashed your face with water, ate some toothpaste ( better than not brushing your teeth at all) before going to collect Tom’s quilt off his bed. By the time you re-entered the living room, Tom hadn’t appeared to have moved at all. The hood of his purple jumped was still up, the blanket still only half covering him, the excess lying cold were you had been sitting. He laughed lightly at you trying to wrangle with the king size duvet and get it in without tripping over yourself or knocking anything over.

“You sure you don’t mind? I’m just being stupid and-“

“Honestly I’m too tired to walk back to mine so this is perfect.”

“You live across the road.”

“Thats like 50 steps too far.” You deadpanned back, as he raised his eyebrows and locked you direct eye contact - which you very stubbornly returned.

The both of you sat like that for a minute, Tom eventually gave up with a sigh as he motioned for you to lie back.

There wasn’t an issue at all with space. A listers rental homes were never lacking in space - the grey sofa was a U shape, with ample space for the both of you to lie down. Each of you took a respective corner, your legs meeting in the middle and gently brushing against each others.

“Thanks for babysitting me today by the way.”

“I wasn-“ You were about to deny it, except one look and Tom saw straight through you.

“Thankyou Y/n/n” Seeing there was no way out of receiving his thanks, you instead opted to just shut him up. Nudging his leg with yours and leaving it touching you murmured you last words of the evening - eyes already closed.

“Fuck off Holland, ‘m tryna sleep.”

~~~~ let me know if you have any feedback or anything (but pls not too mean this isn't proof read so blame that) <33 ~~~~~~

tagging : @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove @msmimimerton @thegirlwiththeimpala

#tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland blurb #harry holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland angst #peter parker

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delimeful · 3 years

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you cant go back (2)

warnings: fear, miscommunication, guilt, mentions of theoretical gore/injury, dehumanization, referring to a person as 'it', general angst

For the fourth day in a row, Lady Macbeth had spurned him.

Roman frowned, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his head and tossing it over the back of a kitchen chair.

Lady was old, smug, and occasionally very cranky, but she wasn’t deaf like Ophelia-- she always came prancing over once she heard his keys rattling in the lock, delighted at the opportunity to smear cat hair all over his pants and get her claws stuck in his shoelaces.

Yet here he stood, catless.

For the past few days, too, she hadn’t been in the house at all when he got home. He’d been downright worried that first day, uneasy until she strolled back in at dusk.

They had an expansive backyard that their younger cats took delight in frolicking in, but their second-oldest cat was a rare visitor to the outdoors. Lady was first and foremost a homebody, and she preferred a warm body to sit on. Their squishy heat-generating human bodies were the only reason she hadn’t assassinated them all in their sleep by now, according to--

Roman cut the thought off sharply, feeling familiar grief pit up in his throat. He shook his head, the motion harsh enough to make his neck twinge. There was no time for standing about and pondering! He had a cat to locate!

A determined jut to his chin, he grabbed what supplies he would need for this perilous journey-- cat treats, a catnip toy, even a tempting cardboard box-- and strode confidently out the backdoor.

For the next half-hour, he wandered around the acres of their property, greeting each of the goats and chickens by name as he checked all the most common cat hidey-holes.

He’d almost given up by the time he stumbled across the old barn, pant legs covered in burrs and the beginnings of a sunburn across the back of his neck. Whatever delightful cat secrets Lady was so busy with, surely he could discover them when it wasn’t the middle of summer.

Just before he could turn around, though, he noticed that one of the doors was just slightly ajar.

Roman felt his brow gradually scrunch up the longer he stared at it. It had been locked up after the last of the old supplies had been moved from it, hadn’t it? The last big storm had proved it wasn’t weather-worthy, his dad had plans to take it apart for timber, ones that had seemingly been forgotten after… afterwards.

Petty inconveniences of getting there forgotten, Roman crept closer on light feet, grip tight on the catnip mouse in his hand. The wind died down at an eerily perfect moment, and he strained to hear beyond those old wooden walls.

Not everything is a grand conspiracy, a voice in his head reminded him, sounding suspiciously similar to Specs, it could simply be someone without housing that took the opportunity for shelter provided by the abandoned barn.

Roman sidled halfway through the ajar door, and froze at the sight of an upright humanoid figure only a few meters away. Something about it wasn't right, instantly putting him on edge. He kept staring, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

(“I’m telling you, these lights were strange even by my standards! Almost… alien.” An unsettling grin that was a beat late.)

The figure’s head was dropped forward, but he could tell even from this distance that it wasn’t human, with shiny purple-grey segmented skin and legs with knees facing the wrong way. It had spiky shoulder joints, but its arms seemed to be tucked behind it.

(Roman had shoved him off the couch, sour about being taken in by one of his tales, and he hadn’t brought it up again.)

Most alarming of all, there were four long, spindly limbs stretched out into the air behind it, seemingly spawning from its back. The legs were spider-like in nature, but shiny instead of hairy, and each one ended in a sharp point. As he watched, he could see the limbs shifting slowly, pairs of them lifting and falling in odd synchrony with the creature’s slow breathing.

(Roman had been freaked out, and his brother had dropped the subject. He should’ve asked, he should have known something was wrong--)

“Miaow.” A plaintive voice called, nearly startling Roman out of his skin.

He tore his gaze away from the (alien) mystery intruder, and felt his jaw drop as he took in Lady Macbeth’s current position. Loafing on the feet of an insidious intruder?!

For shame, he mouthed silently at her.

Lady blinked slowly and continued to purr, unbothered by his accusatory stare. One of those spider limbs shifted again, making Roman swallow nervously. He really didn’t want to see what sort of automatic reaction an extraterrestrial’s stabby-arms would have to finding a cat in its space.

He waved the catnip mouse enticingly. Lady gave him the bland look of a cat who had preferred those expensive feather toys for as long as he had known her. Roman resisted the urge to facepalm.

The insanely dangerous method it was, then.

Putting all his sneaking skills to use, he sidled further into the barn, dropping into a crouch and beginning to creep across the dirt floor as slowly as possible. Each step was carefully placed, almost entirely silent, and whenever those freaky appendages twitched, he froze in place for a full thirty seconds.

The alien’s head remained lax (asleep?) as he drew closer, but Lady refused to entertain his desperate motions for her to leave her ill-chosen bed. At this rate, he’d have to pick her up off of it, and hope that she didn’t complain too much on the way out.

He shifted his weight forwards, and suddenly all four of the arms were still, almost taut in the air. Only a couple feet away, the alien’s head bobbed slightly. His time was up.

Clenching his teeth, Roman made a gamble.

He tossed the little mouse toy directly at the space above the alien’s head and dove for Lady.

There was a whistle, like a whip or an arrow sliding through the air, and Roman made the mistake of glancing up as soon as he had his hands securely around Lady’s body.

All four of the spider limbs had jabbed into the same point, skewering the toy from several different angles. The alien was certainly awake now, and it had four times as many eyes as any one person could reasonably need. Between one heartbeat and the next, those huge dark irises went from staring at the poor mutilated toy to staring at Roman.

Terror shot through him and he gave up on subtlety, throwing himself back as hard as he could and hoping that he made it out of range.

He landed on his back with a whomp that knocked the wind out of him, and flinched as that terrifying whistling sound split the air again, ending in a muted thump. He was so wired with adrenaline that he couldn’t tell if he’d been hit or not. Locked in his arms, Lady writhed and complained loudly.

“Not going anywhere,” Roman wheezed, “you little fiend, con-- consorting with the enemy.”

There were several more whistle-thumps, which was either very good or very bad for him. He rolled to his side, pushing himself up on an elbow and taking stock of himself, braced for the worst.

The alien was still standing there against the central support beam of the barn. Half a foot from Roman’s leg, it's very sharp extra arms had left holes pierced in the hard-packed dirt of the barn’s floor.

“But no holes in me,” Roman cheered weakly, and then shifted Lady to the crook of one arm and flipped the alien off. “Nice try, Space Invader.”

The alien made a deep clicking rumble, but stopped trying to impale him. Instead, it moved to hold all those limbs high up in the air menacingly, ready to stab down at any point. The remains of the toy mouse sat near its feet, cotton innards spilling everywhere like a grim warning.

Roman got to his own feet, wincing at the feeling of Lady’s claws poking into his ribs as she attempted to kick her way to freedom. He took a moment to stare once he was back upright.

The alien’s skin plates had gone completely pitch-black, only the slightest hints of purple between the plates to prove that there’d ever been any color to it at all. Roman was abruptly glad that he hadn’t encountered it in the dark of night.

Its eyes were just as dark, with only the slightest difference in shades of black to indicate the difference between iris and sclera. Despite his artistic eye for color differences, even Roman couldn’t tell where its pupils were. If it even had pupils.

It also was still stuck in one place, despite its legs seeming totally operational. Roman slowly shuffled to the side of it, making sure to keep a few good steps clear of stabbing range, and found that it did in fact have normal arms and hands.

Well. Mostly normal. There were five fingers, but they were all way too long and ended in thick, claw-like points. He thought they also maybe had one or two too many joints.

More to the point, the alien couldn’t do anything with these arms because they were bound together at the wrists and tied tightly to the central support beam of the barn. It was stuck there, and going by the aggressive rumbling it was doing, it knew it.

Roman pulled out his phone and managed to take a shaky video of the alien, circling around it to both get a better angle and prompt it to threateningly twitch those back limbs some more. He knew his sci fi tropes, including the one where the alien mysteriously disappears the moment the plucky protagonist tries to tell anyone about the danger. He wasn’t going to be called crazy again.

Once he was content with the amount of evidence he had, he made the trek back to the house at a near-sprint, the cat in his arms protesting all the way. He burst through the back door, letting the screen fall shut behind him, and finally allowed Lady to walk on the power of her own four paws. She beelined for the screen door, stood up on her hind legs, and rattled it expectantly.

“Absolutely not,” Roman told her firmly, nudging her away. “I don’t know what it is with you and courting death via Xenomorph, but you are henceforth banned from the outdoors.”

If angry little kitty looks could kill, Roman would be as dead as King Duncan.

Shaking his head, he went over to the ancient landline phone in their kitchen, lifted the phone from its cradle, and paused.

Who was he going to call?

He’d had some half-conceived notion of calling his parents, or that infuriating police officer, or even just 911. What would he even say? ‘Hello operator, my emergency is that I have an alien in my barn, I promise this isn’t a prank’? Even the dial tone wouldn’t believe that.

And what if they did get someone out here to verify that there was a real alien? There was little doubt in his mind that law enforcement and then the government would quickly step in, whisking the evil version of E.T. away into some distant Area 51 lab. Roman would never see it-- or get any answers from it-- ever again.

He hung the phone up with a solid click, and turned to face the kitchen.

If he was going to interrogate a hostile alien, he needed to arm himself.

---

Shockingly, when he returned to the barn, the alien was still there.

He had crept up quietly again, hoping to catch it unawares, but this time it had been staring unerringly at him from the moment he peeked through the door, those smaller, rounder eyes wide open under its main ones.

He pushed the door open further with a dramatic flourish, pretending like he hadn’t been sneaking at all.

“Alien scourge,” Roman greeted, wincing at the crack in his voice. He cleared his throat, ignoring the way the alien’s dark gaze sent chills down his spine. “I don’t know how you ended up here, but I do know that you’re going to give me the information that I need.”

He pointed the end of his weapon of choice for emphasis, and the alien recoiled with a hiss, quickly jabbing out at it with those back arms.

Just as he’d hoped, however, putting vegetable oil on the already-slick plastic handle of the kitchen broom had made it basically impossible for those single-pronged limbs to stab or grab it. He grinned triumphantly, poking the alien with the end of it. The playing field had officially been evened.

“Now, unless you want me to introduce you to the Earth concept of piñatas, you better tell me what you’re here for.”

The alien was entirely silent, watching him with those shiny, pitch-black eyes. Behind it, its spider arms were vibrating with tension, probably in preparation to stab out the moment he slipped up.

“I’m serious,” Roman warned, poking it a little harder and getting exactly nothing for his efforts, not even a glare. “I know what I saw that night, and there’s no way it’s a coincidence that now you’re here. It was an abduction."

He paused for effect, and the alien let out a series of clicks and low, warped sounds that sounded like meaningless nonsense.

"I don't speak alien." Roman frowned. "Tell me what happened. Why were you-- or, your-- your brethren or your shipmates or whatever, why were they taking people? Where did they take them?”

The alien made what sounded like the same exact series of noises. Roman groaned in frustration.

“In-- In English! You understand what I’m saying, don’t you? If aliens are real and have the technology to infiltrate Earth without being detected, they have to have some way of communicating! An insta-translator or telepathy or math nonsense or something!” He threw his arms out in frustration, making the alien twitch.

He paced back and forth for a moment, before coming to a stop in front of the alien again and leveling it with an accusatory stare. “You’re faking it. I don’t believe that you can’t understand me.”

The alien just kept staring at him, flat plates where its mouth should have been, not a single expression visible on its face. It was about as convinced by Roman’s argument as everyone else in his life, which was to say, not at all. He felt a surge of white-hot anger, and levered the broom at its neck threateningly.

“Tell me, right now!” he demanded, stinging tears building up at the corner of his eyes. “Tell me where my brother is!”

He shoved the broom further forwards, and the alien snapped its limbs forwards and knocked it away, startling him into stumbling back. It hissed at him again, stabbing at the ground like a warning. He scowled, swiping at his face with a sleeve, and swung the broom handle at it sharply.

The swing went wide, more than a foot from touching any of it, but the alien showed the closest thing to emotion he’d seen so far, half of its eyes flinching closed in anticipation. Roman felt a sickening twist in his gut, some odd mix of guilt, anger, and vindication, and he turned away sharply.

Not for the first time, he wished he’d been the one that had been taken.

Remus wouldn’t care if the stupid cops didn’t listen to him, if their parents didn’t believe him, if the whole town thought he was insane. He would know how to convince an alien to talk, would threaten to-- to crush its extra eyes or cut off limbs or do something Roman was too squeamish to even think up.

If it was Remus, it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t know what to do. He’d at least do something.

He wouldn’t be going through the motions of life like everything was the same.

Pretending had always been Roman’s specialty, after all.

Roman cast a furious glare over his shoulder at the alien, resentful that it was still staring at him even as he was in the middle of a breakdown, and tossed the broom into the corner.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, swallowing back the thickness in his voice, “and every day after that until you tell me.”

Threat delivered, he stormed out of the barn and slammed the doors shut behind him.

#sanders sides #humans are space orcs #ts roman #ts virgil #space au #humans are deathworlders #ycgb #you cant go back #my writing #writing #sanders sides fic #alien virgil

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tallmantall · 1 year

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#JamesDonaldson On #MentalHealth - #Anxiety And Being Kind To Yourself

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finnyboywolfhard · 3 years

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Kiss It, Make It Better

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

summary: Y/N craves smoking with someone new, so who better than Steve Harrington.

A/N: this is based solely on the ‘it’s only marijuana’ line in season three bc i am in love with stoner!Steve

warnings: drugs <3, cursing, fluff

word count: 2.4k

Y/N and Dustin had the routine since Y/N got her license, that once a month they would have a sibling drive, in which they would drive around with the sole intent of getting caught up with one another. Given all the shit they had been through over the past few years, it naturally became their own special form of therapy. The Events of Starcourt on the Fourth of July and the days prior were once again weighing heavily on the two during their first drive since.

“What was it like being drugged?” Dustin asked, his curiosity weaving its way into his voice.

“Weird. It kinda felt like everything was the best thing ever, but it also came at the worst time. It was also weird that it was with Steve Harrington and Robin.”

“Is it like weed?”

“Is it like what?” Y/N knew the answer, it was no, but she had no idea why her little brother was deciding to ask her that in that exact moment.

“When you guys were drugged, I kept asking Steve if he did drugs, and he said that he only did marijuana. I wanted to know if they were comparable. So, is it like weed?”

“First off Dusty, you don’t ‘do’ marijuana, you smoke it. And secondly, I’m not answering that question, you can save that query for Steve.” Steve. Y/N had a lot of thoughts about him, it was interesting to hear about him from the rumors in high school in comparison to how she saw him act regularly. And ever since she started smoking to calm herself down, she has craved smoking with someone other than Robin, maybe Steve was worth a shot.

“Speaking of Steve, he said he might be over a lot over the next few nights while his parents are away, just so you know.”

“Oh? Is he coming tonight?”

“No, not tonight. He isn’t off work till 9 and mom doesn’t want him coming an hour before my dumbass bedtime— I still don’t get why she just NOW gave me a bedtime while you don’t even have a curfew.” Her brother started rambling, but all she could pay attention to was that he was going to be home alone tonight. Would it be that crazy of her to show up after all the trauma they had been through over the past 3 years?

“It’s because I’m legally an adult, so she’s treating me as such, and you’re just going into high school, she wants you to be safe. But okay, guess we’ll just have to see him soon.” The two drove around for a while longer before returning home. As the hours in between past, Y/N glanced towards her bookshelf, in which held a hidden stash of weed. She could always tell her mom she was just going to Robin’s, she would never try to prevent Y/N from seeing Robin.

She walked toward the bookshelf with soft footing, and with a gentle touch she plucked the hard covered book from the shelf. Inside lay two pre rolled joints she bought from her dealer and some bud Murray had snuck her after Hopper’s memorial. She snapped the book closed and tossed the book gently onto her bed. She put on a zip up hoodie and packed a fake sleepover bag. The books spine crackled gently as the cover was opened just enough for her to grab the pre-rolls out and into her pocket.

With backpack slung over her shoulders and her hands tucked securely in her pockets, Y/N strolled casually into the living room where her mother sat, as the minutes ticked quicker and quicker past 9:30–he was definitely home by now.

“Hey mom! Inhope you don’t mind but I’m gonna head over to Robin’s.”

“Oh! Did she call? I didn’t even hear the phone!”

“Oh no! She didn’t!” Y/N let in a gulp, she didn’t think this through. “She asked me a few days ago to come over tonight if I wanted to, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go until a little bit ago.”

“Ah, sounds like you, Do you wanna call her before you head over?” Claudia stood from her seat and began moving and motioning towards the phone.

“No!’ Y/N shrieked at her mother, who turned confusedly towards her. “Her mom goes to bed early and I told her that if I was gonna come it would be between 9 and 10, she assumes I’m coming, but I do really gotta get going.” Y/N glanced nervously at the clock, it was getting later and later and there comes a time where it’s a little uncomfortable to show up. Claudia glanced to the clock as well.

“Okay Y/N/N, you better get going.”

“Bye mom—“

“—Drive safe, be careful, I love you.”

“I love you too mom.” Y/N said as she practically ran to her car. She turned her car on and began the drive towards his house, not even thinking twice about where she was going until the car came to a park in his driveway.

“Shit!” Y/N yelled at herself. She yelled at herself for being weird and for showing up unannounced. She calmed herself down by saying, “who wouldn’t want someone showing up with free weed? Don’t overthink it.” She pulled in a complete, deep breath and walked hesitantly to the door. Three knocks sounded off the door, her breath fluttering ever so slightly as she let her hand fall to her side. Footsteps could be heard from the opposite side of the door, stepping closer and closer by the second. The doorknob turned and Y/N’s attention snapped up to meet the gaze of the boy at large.

“Hey Y/N, what’re you doing here?” Steve asked delightfully surprised. Her hand reached inside her pocket to pull one of the two joints. She lifted it from her pockets to where he could see it.

“Got a light?” She asked with a smirk.

After finding a lighter, the two made their way to his backyard. They sat parallel to one another in their chaise chairs. Y/N flicked the lighter a few times before sparking up the first joint of the night. She pulled a large huff in and held it as she passed the joint to Steve. He took in a long drag, holding the joint in front of him to inspect it after he hit it. A few seconds after Y/N had released her hit, Steve started coughing a bunch.

“Jesus Y/N, where the hell did you get this?” Steve said through the gasps for air.

“Good shit, huh?” Y/N joked as she inhaled another hit. The two fell into a rhythm of passing it back and forth as conversation allowed itself to flood the air.

“So what made you come here Y/N?” Steve pondered towards the girl.

“Dusty started asking me about when we were drugged, and apparently you told him you smoked weed. And, as much as I love Robin, I need someone new to smoke with, and you’re not AWFUL to hang out with.” Y/N explained, with sarcasm dripping from the last sentence.

“Wow, I feel so touched. Truly, I feel like the luckiest man alive. THE Y/N Henderson chose ME to smoke with. Best day of my life.” Steve rambled on, matching the sarcastic tone Y/N started with. The two laughed for a bit together, before Y/N spoke through the giggles.

“I am sorry for just showing up, I just didn’t know how to ask.”

“What? Am I that scary?”

“You’re THE King Steve, you’re the coolest, hottest guy at Hawkins. I was so intimidated by your male wiles. I am begging at your feet Steve Harrington.” Y/N mocked other girls she had witnessed in Hawkins. “No you’re not scary, I just couldn’t bring myself to say ‘Hey Steve, want to do some drugs with me?’ on our family phone, it didn’t feel right.” Steve let out a chuckle and a ‘fair enough’. It fell silent for a moment as the joint had its final hits taken from it.

“Why haven’t we hung out before? I mean away from all the traumatizing shit.” Steve asked slowly as he let himself sink down into the chair.

“Different friend groups before it all and then after and during it all, I didn’t and don’t want to impede on you and Dustin’s time. Plus neither of us have asked each other anyway.”

“That’s not true, I invited you to the movies that one day you stopped into scoops alone.”

“Yeah after I had already told you I was babysitting that night, you didn’t even ask to reschedule.”

“Yes I absolutely—didn’t. I didn’t.” Steve said, confidence dissipating. Y/N couldn’t help but focus to each small feature of his face one by one. Sure, she had looked at him but she never looked at him. He really was beautiful.

Jokes and stories were told between the two, laughter and exaggerated stories filled the bubble they put themselves in. In those moments, there was no one else in the world but Steve and Y/N.

“And that’s how Mike Wheeler broke his finger in our backyard.” Y/N let out through a fit of giggles. Steve clutched his stomach as he let himself fall back into the chair from the gut busting laughter Y/N had sent him into. As he got more comfortable, he glanced down at his watch. His eyes bulged at the time.

“Holy shit.” He said flustered, eyes never leaving the watch face.

“What? What time is it?”

“It’s almost 2 A.M.”

“Oh damn…” Y/N said, a dangerously fun smile finding its way to her face. Her hand reached towards the second joint in her pocket. “So this would be of no interest to you?” Steve’s squinted eyes opened just a peep. He let out a long whine.

“I think I’m too high to even move…but that looks so good.” Y/N looked between him and the joint. She noticed space for her to sit on the edge of his chair, and placed herself there. She placed the joint between her lips and gave it a light, waiting for the rolling paper burn down to the weed. From between her lips, she pulled the joint between her fingers and held it gently up to his. He took in a pull, never once releasing eye contact. With each consecutive hit, the distance between them drew closer and closer, eventually leaving their faces merely inches apart. Her fingers were so far back on the joint, they grazed his lips as he took in one of the final hits. Her fingers tingled from his touch. She glanced towards his eyes, his meeting hers already. The air around them went still and quiet. Their eyes were locked on each other, contact never wavering as their bodies moved towards one another like a magnet. His eyes stayed put on hers as his voice fell in the air.

“Give me one more.” Her hand lifted lightly and placed itself at his lips once more. The joint glowed a bright red as he inhaled the smoke. Y/N was so enraptured by his beauty, she didn’t notice the joint burning down to a nub. She watched as a cloud of smoke was blown from his lips and into the sky, before the heat had finally reached her touch.

“Son of a bitch!” She exclaimed as she dropped the roach to the ground. She lifted her fingers to her mouth, attempting to ease the burning feeling. The burn wasn’t bad, just a little redness but it didn’t hurt any less.

“Hey, let me see it.” Steve’s tone was much gentler now as he lifted her hand into his own. He raised her gently by her wrist to examine the burnt fingers. He delicately placed the burnt fingers to his lips and gave them a tiny little kiss.

“Kiss it, make it better.” He whispered, just barely audible to her ears. That’s what was so shocking about Steve, his heart was so filled with love and care. He did his best to make everyone feel protected, even if his popular guy persona overshadowed it at times.

“How are you so perfect?” Her voice came out quietly. Slowly, he lifted his head to look at her once more and without much thought, he closed the distance. The kiss was gentle and loving, but clearly stoked by passion. His lips upturned into a smile. She leaned back and traced her fingers across her lips. Just to make sure she didn’t imagine it, she pulled the boy towards her by the collar and planted one more kiss on him—and she noted that he kissed back with the same fervor.

“I have a crush on you Steve Harrington.” She said, hiding her blushing face from the boy. He turned her face towards him as he confessed,

“I’ve had a crush on you for like 3 months.”

“You have?”

“Yeah.” He said, his thumb gently grazing her cheek.

“Why?”

“Dustin talks about you enough, and I—uh I remembered all the times you’ve kicked ass over the past few years and it just kinda…happened. Who wouldn’t want someone as smart, badass, and beautiful as you?” He rambled our haphazardly, a blush forming across his cheeks as well.

“Steve…”

“Oh god, that was embarrassing, am I blushing? I feel like I’m blushing. fuck me.” Steve started rambling.

“Hey! It’s not embarrassing, it’s cute.” Y/N explained, but it didn’t seem to help. An idea flashed in her mind. “Oh no! You are so embarrassing, I am embarrassed. Ew, guess I

I’ll just have to close my eyes! I hope that embarrassing Steve Harrington doesn’t kiss me!” The sarcastic tone from earlier returning once more. A chuckle bubbled past Steve’s lips. He once more laid one on her, this time—a little bit more passionate than the past.

Y/N nuzzled herself into Steve’s side on the small beach chair they were on. The air sat comfortably still in that moment, the two reeling from the overwhelming emotions they had just felt. Quiet giggles pierce the air as Y/N studies her fingers.

“It worked.” She said matter of factly.

“What worked?”

“After you kissed it, I haven’t thought about it since. You made it better.” Y/N spoke melodically. Steve planted a kiss to the top of her head and pulled her closer in to him.

“Kiss it, make it better.” He repeated once more.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n

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