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vodika-vibes · 5 months

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A Loving Man pt. II

Summary: Several weeks after Crosshair sent a letter to his brothers, you get a surprise visitor.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader

Word Count: 2237

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: This idea has been living in my head for several days, and since I decided that today is my "write personal projects rather than requests day" I decided to actually write it.

It’s a lazy summer day, and you’re enjoying your day off. It would be better, arguably, if Crosshair also had the day off, but he doesn’t, which means that instead of going to the lake with him, you’re hanging out at home, sitting on the back porch with a new novel and a glass of lemonade.

It’s a fine way to relax, even if it’s not what you originally had in mind for the day.

You absently take a sip of your lemonade when you hear the familiar sound of a speeder approaching your home. You set your glass back on the table and place your datapad down beside it, and you get to your feet.

As the speeder comes to a stop in front of your home, you step off the staircase and walk over to the familiar vehicle. “Mister Willis?” You call, “Is everything alright?”

A slightly older man opens the door and steps out, “Hey there, Doc!” He beams at you and walks around to the other side of the speeder, “Was out by my blinds, checking on them for next season, when I stumbled on…well, see for yourself.”

He pulls the door open and stands to the side, allowing a slender, blonde child to step out of the speeder.

“You found a kid? Near your hunting blind” You ask, horrified. The Willis’ hunting blind was close to three hours away from the town, and wasn’t a safe place at any time of year, but especially not during the middle of summer.

“Yes ma’am,” He helps the girl limp around the speeder, “She’s lucky I showed up when I did. She was already getting swarmed. I did what I could, but-”

“But the Hornets aren’t the most forgiving.” You finish, as you hurry over to the girl and kneel in front of her with a soothing smile, “Well, the good thing is that you’re not allergic. But you’re probably in a lot of pain.”

The little girl nods miserably.

“Why bring her here?” You ask, as you look up at Mister Willis, “The clinic’s closer.”

“She has a picture of you and Cross with your address scribbled on the back,” He replies, “Didn’t know you were expecting company, Doc.”

The little girl sniffles, like she’s trying to not cry, and she fishes around in her jacket pocket. And then she hands over a well folded picture. It’s the picture that Crosshair sent to his brothers all those weeks ago.

Well…a copy at least.

“Honestly, we weren’t either.” You reply dryly, before you set a light hand on the girl’s shoulder, “You’re Omega, right? Crosshair’s little sister?”

“Yeah.”

You smile warmly, “Let’s get you inside, and see if I can make some of that pain go away, yeah?” You offer Omega your arm, and she clings to it for support, “Thanks for bringing her here, Mister Willis.”

“No worries, Doc. I wouldn’t leave a kid out there to fend for herself.” He sighs, “I’ll grab my boys, and we’ll tow her ship to the landing pad in a couple of days. Give the hornets time to move on.”

“That sounds like a plan,” You smile at him gratefully, and as he climbs back into his speeder, you carefully help Omega into your home, and guide her to sit on the couch.

Omega is quiet as you check over the welts that come from being swarmed by hornets, “I didn’t mean to rile them up.” She says quietly.

“It’s alright. You couldn’t have known.” Your voice is gentle, “I’m just glad that you were found before the situation grew worse.”

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” You stand and duck into the kitchen for a moment, and you return with an ice pop for Omega, as well as your emergency first aid kit, “Here you go, one ice pop for you to eat while I patch you up.”

“Oh, thank you,” Omega smiles weakly as she accepts the treat, and then she falls silent again.

You treat her injuries, just as quietly, and then you sit back on your heels, “How are you feeling?”

“It hurts a little, but not like it was.”

“Good. Just sit for a little longer, and the pain should fade completely,” You repack your kit, “Alright. While you do that, I’m going to comm Cross. He’s going to have some questions for you, kiddo.”

“Yeah, I know.” Omega’s shoulders hunch slightly, “Thank you for not yelling at me.”

“You might not be thanking me when Cross gets home.” You lightly ruffle her hair, “Fresher is down the hall if you need it, and you can watch whatever you like on the holo. Do you need something to eat or drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Alright, I’ll be in the next room if you need anything.” And then you get to your feet, and you step into the kitchen, pulling your comm out of your pocket as you do so.

You sial the comm code you know by heart, and wait a moment.

“Cyare?” Crosshair’s voice comes across the comm, no video, but that’s more than fine. “Is something wrong?” You can hear the hint of concern in his voice, and you feel bad about it. You never call him during the workday.

“Everything’s alright,” You hasten to reassure, “Just…we have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Crosshair asks, “A patient came to the house? Do you need me to come home to kick them out?”

“Yes, a visitor, and yes, technically she’s a patient. And yes, I do need you to come home, but not to kick her out.” You list, “Cross, it’s Omega.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then you hear the sound of him walking, and then a heavy door opening and shutting, and the next thing you know the comm’s video feed connects, “What?”

“You’re little sister, Omega. She’s currently sitting on our couch. Poor thing was swarmed by hornets. Mister Willis found her by his blind.” You reply.

“What about the others?”

“Just Omega.” You sigh, “If I had to guess, I would say that she decided to come and see you without permission. She has a copy of the picture you sent to your brothers, with our address scribbled on the back.”

He runs his hand through his hair, “You think she ran away?”

“Hm…I don’t think that was her intention, so much as the result of what was her intention.”

He shoots you a puzzled look.

“I think she wanted to see you, Cross.” You clarify, “I don’t have a problem keeping an eye on her, but-”

“But I should probably come home.” He runs his hand through his hair again, and a heavy sigh falls from him, “Alright, I’ll be home in 10.”

“I’ll see you then.” You smile at him, “Love you.”

“Love you more.” And then the comm closes, and you peek into the living room, where Omega is watching a movie, and you turn to busy yourself with making lunch for three.

Sandwiches are easy and quick to put together, so you throw some together. Just as you finish the last sandwich, you hear Crosshair’s speeder come to a stop outside, and he comes in the side door.

He greets you with a faint smile, and he presses a light kiss against your forehead, “You made lunch.”

“Hard conversations are easier over food,” You reply promptly as you reach up and smooth the collar of his jumpsuit, and then you press a quick kiss against his lips, “Do you want to shower?”

He sighs and bumps his forehead against yours, “Better get this over with.” And then he pauses, “What do I say?”

“Why don’t you let her take the lead?” You offer, as you lightly brush your fingers against his cheek, “We can decide what to do after we talk to her, yes?”

“How did I get so lucky to end up with someone so smart?”

“Well, I picked you, for one-” You tease with a grin, and Crosshair laughs. He kisses you quickly, and then reaches around you to set plates on the table.

“Omega,” He calls even as he smiles down at you, “Lunch!”

Omega pokes her head into the room and she nervously looks up at Crosshair, as if expecting to see anger. Though he’s very calm. “You didn’t have to make lunch,” She says to you, “But, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I wasn’t sure what condiments you like, so I left them all out for you.” You reply.

Omega takes a seat at the table, and starts making her sandwich. Almost identical to the way that you make Crosshair’s, and you smother your grin behind your hand. Not quick enough, though, as Crosshair sees it and he lightly pinches your side.

He kisses the side of your head, and takes a seat as well, after he lightly pushes you into your seat. The three of you eat in silence for a moment, and then Crosshair looks at Omega, “So…” He starts slowly, “How did you get here?”

Omega flushes, “I…uhm…borrowed a ship.”

“Borrowed or stole?”

She ducks her head, “Stole…technically.”

“Okay, follow-up question, does Hunter know you’re here?” Crosshair asks.

Omega flushes even more, “Um…well…he doesn’t, no.” Crosshair raises an eyebrow, and Omega hastens to continue, “He got the letter from you and then he hid it from me! And I found it, and I saw that you wrote that we had an open invitation, and Hunter was never going to come and-and-and we’re still family and-!”

“Easy there, kid.” Crosshair interrupts, “I’m not mad that you came to see us.”

“You…you’re not?”

“Nope. I wouldn’t have written the open invitation if I didn’t mean it.” Crosshair continues with a shrug, “I am, however, disappointed that you would run away from Hunter and the others and steal a ship.”

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows that’s worse.” Omega grumbles, and then flushes as Crosshair shoots her a look, “Sorry.”

“Do you have anything you want to add, cyare?” Crosshair asks you.

And you smile at him adoringly, “Just that you’re going to be an amazing dad someday.”

Crosshair falters, and then presses his hand over your eyes, “Eat your sandwich.” He grumbles, his face burning, as he turns back to Omega, “After you finish eating, we’re going to call Hunter.”

“Do we have to?”

“Yes,” You and Crosshair say in unison.

Omega looks from you to Crosshair and then back again. And then she giggles, “You’ve been good for him.”

“I like to think so.” You agree, “He’s not nearly so grumpy now.”

Crosshair sighs, but he doesn’t deny it, “How about we call Hunter now?” He asks as he drops his comm on the table, “Go ahead, Omega.”

Omega hesitates, and then enters a comm code.

The other line rings for a moment, and then connects, revealing Echo on the other end, and Crosshair sighs, “I realize that we all look the same, Omega, but Echo is not Hunter.”

“I know. But Hunter’s going to be angry-”

“Omega? Cross-” Echo sputters, “Hunter’s not the only one angry, Omega! I’m angry too! Where are you?”

“I’m with Crosshair.” Omega says, “Hunter wasn’t going to let me visit him and I decided that I disagree!”

Echo looks bewildered for a moment, “What?”

“Crosshair’s letter,” Omega clarified, “I know I’m the only one who wasn’t allowed to see it-”

“Oh.” Echo sighs, “He wasn’t keeping it from you to hurt you, Omega. He just didn’t want to get your hopes up. We were going to tell you as soon as we decided if we were going to visit.”

“Well,” Omega says, “Now you have to.”

“Oh, you could take the ship you stole back-”

“No, actually, she can’t. The ship needs to be fumigated before it’s allowed anywhere near civilization.” You interrupt, before you look at Crosshair, “The Willis’ are dealing with that and towing the ship to the landing pad when it’s safe to do so.”

“Huh, good for them. They’ll probably need help.”

“Probably,” You agree, “But that’s a problem for later, not now.”

“Right, right.” Crosshair agrees, before he looks at Echo, “The invitation stands, we can find someplace to put you all up for a night or more.”

“And we have space for Omega, until you all can come and get her.” You interrupt.

“That too.”

Echo looks from you to Crosshair, and a small smile crosses his face, “You’ve mellowed out a lot, Cross.” He says quietly.

“Thanks, it’s the therapy.” Crosshair says dryly. “Well, that and the one person who never managed to see anything bad in me.” He motions to you.

“Well then. I look forward to meeting you in person.” Echo’s grin becomes sly, “Don’t worry, I’ll manage to get everyone to agree to come and visit. It won’t even take long.” And then he looks at Omega, “Be good.”

And then the call cuts, and the kitchen falls silent, “Well,” you say after a moment, “Omega needs some proper clothes for the weather here. And we need some additional food-”

“Lunch first, and then shopping. Plus, I need to shower before I go anywhere. I’m covered in motor oil.” Crosshair says, “But I suppose then we can go shopping.”

And with that decided, the conversation becomes much more casual, with Omega grilling you on what you do for a living, and what Crosshair does for a living, and what the planet is like.

#star wars #tbb #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #In my mind #crosshair grew his hair out #and he's got long enough hair to pull in a ponytail #but he's also got an undercut

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astxrwar · 3 months

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blunt force trauma [2/x]

SYNOPSIS: traumatized!Bucky x Brainwashed!supersoldier!reader.

Rating: M

Word Count: 5k

Content Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Check out the tag "fic; blunt force trauma" for Content + ao3 chapter notes for extras if you're interested. <3

Read on AO3

[1] [ 2 ] [3]

It’s the first thing he realizes when he wakes up the next morning; he’s going to have to fix that giant fuck-off hole in the wall.

Bucky only remembers after he’d gone through the convoluted and absolutely unnecessary process of the Home Depot self-checkout— gloves don’t work on the stupid fucking touchscreens they have now, and neither do half of his fingers, which is just such bullshit, god, everything was easier when you could just hand some guy actual money and be done with it— that the government tracks his purchases. The military, technically. Parole condition, again, since they’re paying his rent and also all of his bills, and because, he suspects, him having an actual job would limit the amount of time he’s available as a state-sponsored superweapon of last resort.

“What’d you get at the hardware store?”

Doc’s tone is light, nonchalant, and painfully fucking contrived. A nail gun, he thinks about saying, and some rope, and duct tape, and, oh— a band saw. Whatever he can think of that sounds the most like he might be planning to commit murder; just to be an asshole. But she already knows exactly what he bought, courtesy of the modern-day surveillance state dystopia that already pretty much existed even with that HYDRA mission falling flat.

What he bought was a seven-foot oak two-by-four, a C-clamp, wood glue, and twelve 3” galvanized screws.

Nothing villainous, nothing remotely illegal , or whatever the hell these people think. That support in the wall is fucked, but he’d done some amount of woodworking, just as an odd summer job way back when he was fifteen or so, and he knows enough, he thinks, to be able to fix it on his own. Even if he doesn’t, tough shit, he can figure it out— he’s not going to explain to his fucking super why there’s a massive hole in the drywall and the beam’s been split nearly in half. No bullshit excuse he could come up with for any of that even came close to sounding like it’d be believable, and, besides, he kind of likes having something to do. Progress that’s visible. A goal that’s concrete.

“The TV stand,” he lies. “It— broke.” He’d worked out the details while he was on the subway headed here, decided on exactly when to pause and hesitate like he’s admitting to something, the points where he’d inject some moments of performative vulnerability into it, not too much, just enough, he hopes, to get everyone off his fucking back.

Doc’s eyebrows raise briefly. She taps her pen against the pad. “Broke how, James,” she prods, on fucking cue.

He hesitates, on purpose, and looks away from her, also on purpose, and then says, pointedly monotone, “I had a nightmare.”

She leans forwards, just a little bit— she’s probably not even aware of the fact that she had, the way most people tend to be oblivious to their tells— and he knows she’s interested. Thinks this is something. “Walk me through how those are connected.”

The implication is pretty fucking clear, because she already knows he sleeps on the floor in the living room more often than in his own bed, and she knows that he has a temper, a violent one, one that he controls with precision except in circumstances where he doesn’t have to. Like when he’s alone. But she wants to hear him say it; so many appointments end up like this, the both of them already knowing whatever unspoken thing that’s been brought up, and her just— obsessed with the actual speaking. It’s annoying, but at least it’s fucking predictable. “I had a nightmare,” he repeats, not even having to fake the irritation, “And I was in the living room, and I woke up, and I was— in a bad mood. So I broke it.”

She writes something down on the notepad and he has to restrain the urge to roll his eyes. This is not the first time he’s talked about breaking shit when he’s angry. There is fucking– nothing new here.

“So you’re planning on fixing it, then?” She says when she’s done, studying him.

He grits his teeth. Again with the fucking obsession with stating the obvious. “It’s new. I don’t want to just— throw it out.”

She stares at him for a moment longer, her expression too relaxed to be vetting the merit of what he’s said; more like she’s contemplating it. Eventually she blinks and shifts in her chair, crossing one leg over another and sets the pad and the pen on the edge of her desk, seemingly satisfied. “That sounds like quite the project,” she remarks, in that tone he can never quite place, whether it’s approving or patronizing or something else altogether. “I think this has the real potential to be a valuable lesson for you, James. Fixing something you've broken instead of discarding it– it can be a therapeutic experience. It might help you work through some of the guilt you’re feeling.”

He doesn’t bother to stop himself from gritting his teeth at that; it would have annoyed him even if he hadn’t been lying.

Bucky fixes the beam, hammers the splintered wood back into a vaguely-straight line and seals the cracks with wood glue and attaches the new two-by-four to it with the galvanized screws; it’s called sistering, what he does, and the last time he’d done this shit was something like 1934. It’s what you do when the alternative would be jacking up the wall and tearing down the entire thing, which would be a massive fucking pain and require more tools and more expertise than he has.

He doesn’t see her again between then and his next appointment.

Doc grills him about his ‘project’ the next time he sees her and he says some stupid shit like yeah, it’s going fine, I feel better, I guess, about not throwing it out. And I was thinking I kinda don’t want to break it again, ‘cause I put a lot of work into fixing it.

Doc looks satisfied with that. It’s not entirely a lie; he knows, now, what this kid is capable of. Next time he really will be more careful.

He makes sure, when he gets around to buying the spackle and the mesh and the paint to patch the drywall, that he pays in cash.

The second time she’s a whole lot more sneaky about the breaking-and-entering.

Bucky wonders, briefly, if this is how it felt for his targets to come home and see him there, straight-backed and still like a statue, just– waiting. Not blinking, hardly even breathing, motionless and so utterly detached that it was hard to tell if he’d been there for hours, or if it had only been minutes.

This time, he knows better than to try to get close.

He’d been at the package store, picked up a case of beer, but she’s in the kitchen again and between him and the fridge, so he decides to just set it down by the door. He makes his way into the living room empty-handed, arms raised like last time. He doesn’t go further than the single armchair about halfway, just kind of rotates it around so it’s facing the kitchen, and sits in it. Focuses real hard on looking– safe. Nonthreatening. Whatever the fuck that even means.

“Sorry,” she says, after a while, the word kind of– slurred, like her tongue isn’t moving right in her mouth, thick and clumsy and unused to the dexterity speaking requires. “About your– wall. I didn’t– I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says, after a while. “I fixed it.”

She stares at him, for a long time, not even blinking. He stares back, unfazed.

All of this feels like the weirdest kind of deja vu– like how sometimes in his nightmares he watches himself, in the third person, like he’s an observer in his own memories, or sometimes even from the eyes of victims or bystanders, even though that’s impossible and doesn’t really make sense. That’s what it feels like, now, kind of, except where the nightmares feel visceral and frightening and have him jolting awake drenched in sweat and violently sick, right now he’s– fine.

It’s one of those nightmares, except all of the pieces are cut up and rearranged and the details are all disorganized, like somebody’s telling a story all out of order. Like the cinema, back when he was a kid; he had had this friend before he’d dropped out of high school who worked in the back room at the theater, and he’d gotten to watch, one time, and see how the movies that look like they play out as one cohesive and unbroken event when you’re sitting in the audience are really just a whole bunch of smaller reels, switched out between two different projectors to give the illusion of continuity. Right now, if this were a movie, all of those reels would be all jumbled up, and whoever’s running the show keeps forgetting how to time the switch between the projectors right; things keep overlapping, getting lost. Remixed.

“You want to maybe tell me what’s going on?” he says eventually.

“I–” She finally blinks, then, and tears her eyes away, looks somewhere over his shoulder, glassy and sightless. “I don’t– I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Bucky shifts on the chair as he watches her, leaning back, resting his elbows on the arms, trying to appear casual, relaxed, which is– not how he feels. He’s not stressed out, really, but that same thing is going on with his awareness, like the last time; everything is sharp and bright and detailed, and he’s here, he’s present, he’s not caught up in his own thoughts or in his memories or in the past, separated from everything else in his head like he’s cordoned off from it all by this thick pane of glass. “Okay, well, what do you know?”

Here is what he knows: when he’d gone back through the memory, some of the patterns she’d used when they’d fought were HYDRA, but a lot of them weren’t. He thinks she’s probably been brainwashed, but it’s hard to tell to what extent, and even harder to tell why. She knows him, and he’d bet that’s why she keeps coming back here.

She doesn’t answer the question. She still hasn’t moved, not even to shift her weight, like she can’t feel the way her body must be getting sore from standing in the same place for a while. Normal people, they fidget a fucking lot. Bucky’s not as bad as he used to be, so he moves, now, occasionally, aware of his muscles complaining if he’s stayed still for too long, but it’s infrequent enough to make people uncomfortable.

He figures it probably doesn’t make her uncomfortable. He figures even if it did, deep down– she probably wouldn’t even know.

“You know me,” he presses, after the silence has drawn out for a long time. “You knew my name.”

She looks back at him again. Even the way her eyes move is strange, unnatural, too sharp and too sudden and too intent. People don’t realize this, either, but when they look at stuff, they never really look at it; the eyes move, back and forth, just a little bit. Compensating for the fact that the human field of vision is actually pretty narrow, filling in the bits in the periphery. When she looks at things, there’s no movement. Just this unwavering precision. That happens to him sometimes, still.

“Do you know your name?” he asks her, and she flinches.

That thing that he’d seen the last time, like a spark, or a glint, or something, when she’d been about to do some serious damage to herself in order to escape and he’d let her go, when she’d recognized that– it’s back.

Absently, Bucky thinks about Romania. This apartment is way fucking nicer than the one he’d had then; a one-bedroom, new, light fixtures that all work and really great water pressure and a kitchen that’d been remodeled just last year. In Bucharest, he’d lived in a studio, with windows that didn’t latch and leaked when it rained and hot water only sometimes.

“How about you just tell me your name,” he says, more firmly than the first time. “You know it, it’s always the first thing to come back.”

That’s not really true. The first things are feelings, but they’re fleeting and sometimes wrong. A name is a concrete thing. It’s a fact. You can write it down and you can say it aloud and you can hold onto it.

She jerks back like he’d slapped her. “How do you know that,” she replies, still flat, but wavering a little; so little that if he didn’t know , he probably wouldn’t notice.

James Buchanan Barnes. He’d carved it with a pocket-knife into the floorboards of that studio apartment, above where he’d hidden his go-bag underneath, in the spots where water damage had rotted it, made the wood soft, like carving into skin. It was insurance. To make sure he couldn’t forget. He’d stare at it, when his nightmares would keep him awake, and the letters would float out of focus and distort and stop making sense, like when you say the same word over and over, until it means nothing.

Eventually, there were other things, too.

Your mother’s name was Sarah. You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.

��Don’t ask stupid questions,” Bucky says. “Tell me your name.”

That spark in her eyes is bigger, flickering, like watching a candle in a windowsill. “I– I don’t–”

“You can tell me,” he repeats, louder, “You know it. You’ve said it, haven’t you? Out loud, to yourself, and I bet you’ve written it down somewhere, you know it, I know you do–”

His voice rises in volume and lowers in pitch without him meaning for it to, and something inside of her flips like a switch, that candle stops being a candle and it flashes bright and wild like a molotov cocktail or a fucking car bomb, like flames licking up the side of a building, the veneer of neutrality cracked open and something vicious and violent and vulnerable underneath and whatever of that is still left inside of him rears up to press at the surface of his skin and he thinks yes, come on, just fucking say it–

Her eyes flash and harden and her mouth presses into this trembling line and she turns and disappears down the hallway.

“Oh– god damn it,” Bucky says, the tension he hadn’t even registered collecting in his body giving out, his back slumping into the chair cushions.

He sits there for a long time before he finally gets up and goes down the hall to his bedroom, where he stares at the open window, and then pulls it shut.

Bucky sleeps in his bed, that night, and not in the living room. He doesn’t have nightmares, and he doesn’t even really wake up on the hour like he’d expected to. Instead, he dreams. In his dream, he comes home to a darkened apartment, case of beer in hand, and he walks the length of the living room and he opens the fridge and sets it inside. When he closes the door, she’s standing behind it, and dream-him jerks like he’s been startled, though he doesn’t feel any actual fear.

She has a gun to his head. She’d been in civilian clothes both times he’d seen her, but in his dream she’s wearing black. Body armor.

“Sorry,” she tells him. Like she’s talking about the hole in the wall.

Her finger tightens around the trigger.

He closes his eyes.

Bucky wakes up before it goes off. His bedroom is flooded with morning light and his heart is beating slow and steady and he feels, strangely, fine.

Doc stops halfway through a back-and-forth about whether or not he’d consider actually picking up woodworking as a hobby– you need hobbies, James, it’s part of being a well-adjusted human being, to which he’d flashed a not-smile and said back, I thought the reason I come here twice a month is because I’m not one, Doc.

She’d looked at him like a parent looks at a child who’s being snarky on purpose, which– fuck that, honestly. He’d been alive probably before her parents were even born.

And then she’d just leaned towards him and tapped her pen against her notebook and stared, the way normal people stare, her eyes fidgeting back and forth, not staying anywhere for long, flicking over his expression and his posture and the way that he’s holding himself in the too-small annoyingly-uncomfortable chair–

“You’re in a good mood,” she says, and then, as an afterthought. “Relatively speaking.”

Bucky scowls at her. “I'm not in a– good mood,” he says.

She raises an eyebrow at him like she thinks he’s full of shit. “I’d like to discuss it. Your mood. Good or otherwise.”

The scowl deepens. It’s real fucking aggravating, the way that she always prefaces shit with I’d like to and let’s try and if you would as if he has any choice in the matter. As if this isn’t a session he’s forced into attending because the alternative is– many years in prison. Many. So many.

He closes his eyes for a second. He has a headache starting; he always gets fucking headaches, here. “It’s nothing, I don’t know,” he says. She stares some more, the way she does when she’s not going to say shit, the threat of talk or I’m court-ordering you back to sessions more frequently than either of us want to be seeing each other lingering unspoken in the deeply annoying silence.

Bucky makes some vague frustrated noise and then does what he usually does when she gets like this; racks his brain and makes something up.

“I met someone,” he says finally, which is true. “They’re a veteran,” which is also true. Kind of. “I’ve seen them a lot,” not really, three times isn’t that much, but the context kind of makes it feel like it is. “And I guess I’ve just been thinking about them. We’ve started– talking. Kind of. Not really friends, but– acquaintances. We have–” he shifts on his chair, crosses an ankle over his knee, thinks, again, about how the government could buy furniture that doesn’t suck. “We have a lot in common.”

Doc blinks at him; she’d sat forwards, the way she does when she’s pressing him, and she leans back, now, which he’s sure makes him palpably relax. “A veteran,” she repeats, pensive, “World War 2?”

He scoffs. “No.”

“Korea?”

“No.”

She gives him this look, which he figures is something along the lines of would it kill you to just answer the obvious question here?

Bucky sighs, long-suffering. “Recent. I don’t– it hasn’t come up, but they’re pretty young, so.”

Doc makes some approving sound and nods and writes something in her notebook. He hates that fucking notebook. Sometimes he thinks about breaking into the office and setting it on fire, but the risk-to-reward ratio, he figures, just isn’t worth it. He’d probably go to prison. Or worse, he’d be sent all the way back to visits twice a week.

“If they’re around your age–” he opens his mouth to say something technically probably obnoxious, but she shoots him a sharp look and says, “Your physical age, James,” before he can– “--it’s likely to have been Iraq or Afghanistan.”

She glances up and to the left of him– the clock. Great; they have to be almost done. “Both of those wars were– complex. Most of my clients served in one or the other,” she says. “Quite a large number of soldiers who were simply following orders found themselves responsible for the deaths of innocents; I’m not surprised you have things in common. I think it would be beneficial for you to make friends you can relate to.”

What he thinks:

I don’t have anything in common with people who chose to follow orders. People who chose to do-- anything.

What he says, instead; “What, you want me to make friends with them?”

She sets the pad and the pen down on the table beside her chair. “This is one of those things that’s more about what you want, James,” she says eventually.

“I don’t know what I want,” he replies.

It’s been a week, since he saw her; she’s not there, when Bucky steps into his apartment after taking the subway back from therapy. He wonders for a second if he’d fucked up the last time, scared her off, but he knows, objectively, it’s too early to consider the possibility. Not like he could do anything about it, anyway; he doesn’t have the connections to be able to figure out who she is without a name.

That night he has the dream again. The apartment, darkened and silent. The bright, washed-out white of the open fridge, setting the case of beer on the second shelf, the inside otherwise empty. Spotless. Like a prop. Dreams are weird.

He knows what’s going to happen when he closes the door, this time. For a second it looks like there’s something red on her arm, at the shoulder, but when he looks harder for it there’s nothing, just unbroken black.

“Sorry,” she tells him, again, only this time she keeps going. “I have to. I don’t have a choice.”

“It’s okay,” he says; this is new, too. “I know. It’s going to be okay.”

Her finger tightens around the trigger in slow-motion, and he doesn't close his eyes, this time.

Bucky still wakes up before the gun actually goes off, and he still wakes up feeling weirdly calm. He prefers this, he decides, over the dreams about killing people. Dreaming of being killed– that’s fine. Better, actually.

He sits up and he swings his legs over the side of the bed– he’d been taking advantage of the lack of nightmares and the suspicious ease with which he’s been sleeping, lately, because he’s kind of getting old and his body has started to hate him whenever he doesn’t sleep on an actual mattress– and when he stretches his back doesn’t ache or twinge or crack the way it does when he sleeps on the floor.

He yawns. He rubs at his eyes until splotches of color burst behind his eyelids, and then he opens them, and he waits for his vision to unblur, and–

He zeroes in on something moving on the windowsill with an instinctive and familiar efficiency.

It’s a slip of paper, folded up and trapped between the glass and the mesh screen, fluttering gently with the breeze. It’s from a notebook, ripped out, the kind that comes from one of those slender, flimsy little pocket-sized spiral ones you can get at the dollar store, the pages inside so thin they might as well be tissue paper.

On it, scrawled in shaky, uneven handwriting, is a name.

He has the dream a bunch more times after that, and it's mostly the same, and then it isn't.

Stepping through the door to his apartment, stepping into an open mouth; the lights are on, this time, but somehow the room is still dark, just these glittering shards of white on the ceiling that look like sharp, gleaming teeth. He can’t see her as he rounds the counter to the fridge, and though he tries to turn his head and look, the dream body won’t obey. Just opens the door, puts the beer inside– there’s stuff in the fridge, just splotches of color that could be anything– and then closes it again.

Gun to his head. The muzzle is touching his skin, this time, which is weird, and also stupid. You don’t touch people with the gun you’re pointing at them; that’s a really good way to get it taken from you. But it’s a dream, and even though he tries to turn and disarm her, his body stays still.

“Sorry,” she says, “I have to. I don’t have a choice.”

It’s okay. I know. It’s going to be okay. He’s had this dream a lot of times, now, and so he expects–

He says the name from the notebook paper. Her name. She’d given it to him, she’d wanted him to have it.

Her finger tightens around the trigger all at once, and he doesn't wake up, this time, but the gun doesn’t go off, either.

It clicks. Jammed. She opens her hand, and it drops, and then it disappears instead of hitting the floor, because– dreams.

“What do I do now,” she says. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

"It's okay,” he hears himself reply. "Just-- let me help you."

#bucky barnes x reader #fic; blunt force trauma #i shall upload the others tomorrow. so as to not. spam. lol

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noforkingclue · 2 years

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Hello 💙 I was wondering if you could write something with the tenth doctor making you cry by getting angry at you and then when he realizes you're crying he comforts you and turns really sweet? Thank you very very much and also thank you for keeping me company with your fics 😄

Thank you anon! I've re-watched some 10th Doctor stuff recently and I forgot just how much I like him as the Doctor (although not with Rose...)

Hope you like the fic!

Title: Confessions

Doctor Who tag list: @v4n1r, @queerconfusionthings, @yourneighbourhoodclown, @love-of-fandoms, @emilythezeldafan, @fabulous-jj-style, @theseeker945, @pleadingeyes, @kjaneway1, @truthbehindthemysteries, @im-a-muggleborn, @startrekkingaroundasgard, @mythandmagik, @geocookie21, @zerocanonlywriteshit, @thewinterpoet2, @anteroom-of-death, @night467, @clarasoswaldd, @sessa23, @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You wiped away the stray tears as you sat down heavily on your mattress. You sniffed as you felt more tears well up and you blinked rapidly as you tried to will them away. You had heard the Doctor be that harsh before but never, never, towards you. Your head jerked up as you heard soft knock at your door.

“Y/n,” the Doctor said, “Can I come in?”

When you didn’t answer he sighed and you heard him sit down just outside your door. You were grateful that he didn’t try and come in. You were quite ready to see him just yet.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m so, so sorry. I never should’ve raised my voice to you.”

“Then why did you?”

The Doctor sighed and you could picture exactly what he was doing. Closing his eyes and running a hand over his face as he tried to find the right words to say. Words that might be too late.

“Because,” he said eventually, “Because I was scared.”

“Scared?”

You stood up and walked towards the door. You heard the Doctor’s breath hitch slightly, probably thinking that you were going to open the door. Instead you sat down on rest your head against the wood. Such a thin barrier between you and yet you had never felt further away from him.

“Yeah,” the Doctor said, “You know how rare that is?”

He gave a light chuckle but when you didn’t respond it trailed off into an awkward cough. He shifted and continued,

“I thought you were going to die.”

“Wh…What?”

That shocked you. You looked over your shoulder even though you knew that you wouldn’t be able to see the Doctor. You heard him shift on the other side as he continued quietly,

“I’ve lost so many people, y/n. My entire planet, friends, people that I…love,” he practically whispered that word and you almost missed it, “I didn’t want to lose you too. I almost thought I did so when I saw you in the TARDIS I-“

He broke off and gave an awkward cough.

“I was angry at you for almost sacrificing yourself and I was angry at me for almost letting you die. I know that doesn’t excuse what I said and how I said it but I need you to know. I need you to know just how much I care about you.”

While the Doctor was speaking you stood up quietly and put you hand on the door handle. The doctor hadn’t seemed to have noticed you moving until you opened the door. He gave a cry as he fell backwards into your room. He looked up at you and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Is this you telling me that you love me?” you asked

“Yes.”

“Right…”

The Doctor quickly scrambled to his feet, making a point not to make any eye contact with you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

“If I’ve made you feel awkward as well.”

“Huh?”

“Y’know,” the Doctor shrugged and gave you a quick glance, “If you don’t feel the same.”

“Oh.”

“We can forget it ever happened. The confession that is, not me yelling at you.”

“Doc.”

“Yes?”

“You have a lot of making up to do for yelling at me,” you linked your arm with his, “But I love you too.”

“You do?”

The Doctor beamed at you and pressed at kiss against your cheek. You laughed as you rested your head against his chest as you lead him towards the console room.

“Like I said, you have a lot of making up to do but you can start with a trip of my choosing.”

#fanfiction #doctor who #reader insert #request #the doctor #the doctor x reader #Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader

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becci-chan · 9 months

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For the @stevetonygames 2023 Team Past Square "Plans" I promised to write something for @cowboyhorsegirl during the SteveTony Games, and here it finally is! <3

It is also for the "Never Have I Ever" challenge, because I've never written anything for the 1872 universe!

You can also read the story on AO3. :)

~~~

The Choices I Make

~900 words

Summary: Tony was wondering if he should voice his thoughts and was still debating with himself when Steve looked up after fastening the last button.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

Tony hesitated and bit his lips before asking, “Have you ever considered giving up your sheriff position?”

“Couldn’t you at least wait until Bruce is back in town?” Tony grumbled. He was sitting on a chair opposite of Steve while cleaning blood from Steve’s shoulder.

“It’s not like I’d planned this,” Steve hissed, probably in both annoyance and pain.

Tony sighed, “I’m just… you know I’m no doc at all. What if I’ll make it worse?”

“I was stabbed, not shot, Tony. The blade didn’t even go deep.”

Tony shook his head and continued to patch up the wound in silence. This wasn’t the first time they had this discussion about Steve’s safety and Tony having to play doctor even though he was not qualified for it.

When Tony finished dressing the shoulder, he pressed a soft kiss on the bandages before saying, “All done. Please still go see Bruce as soon as he’s back, okay?”

“If it makes you feel better, I will,” Steve said and put on his shirt again.

Tony was wondering if he should voice his thoughts and was still debating with himself when Steve looked up after fastening the last button.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

Tony hesitated and bit his lips before asking, “Have you ever considered giving up your sheriff position?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The distance he created made Tony uncomfortable.

“Do you really think I haven’t?” Steve asked. “Do you think I enjoy risking my life dealing with unpredictable drunks every day?”

“I’m sorry–“

“No, I need you to listen for a sec,” Steve interrupted and Tony snapped his mouth shut. “I’m doing what I’m doing, because it’s the right thing. Not because it’s easy or safe or a fun job. There aren’t lots of people who could fill this position and I can’t leave this town and its people alone.”

Tony nodded and Steve leaned forward and took his hand, linked their fingers together.

“Please believe me that I’m not taking unnecessary risks. It’s just… not the safest job in town.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tony laughed bitterly and squeezed Steve’s hand in support.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop Steve from being Sheriff Rogers, but he was always worried he might not come back to him after a bar fight or rescuing someone from bandits. In another life, Tony’s chosen partner would be an artist or someone with an equally safe job.

“Did you know,” Steve started and Tony lost his train of thought. “That Parker’s son asked me to teach him how to shoot?”

“Li’l Pete?” Tony asked in surprise.

“Yep,” Steve confirmed, popping the ‘p’ with a grin. “And I think I will, actually.”

Tony had known Li’l Pete since he was just a baby boy. He was still a kid now, but growing fast, admittedly. His parents were good customers of Tony’s, and Pete had always been tagging along with them and asked questions about the weapons Tony made and the different materials he used. He was a smart boy.

“Why?” Tony asked, and even though he knew the answer already, he needed to hear it from Steve.

“He’s clever, good with the horses, has quick reflexes, and a very strong sense of justice. He has everything a good potential future sheriff needs,” he said with a smile. “I think if I’ll take him under my wing, he might be ready to take my position in a couple years.”

Tony beamed at Steve as he heard these words. Then he removed his hand from Steve and got up from his chair, only to sit down again on Steve’s lap, one leg on each side of him. He slung his arms around Steve’s neck, careful not to touch the wounded shoulder, and kissed him.

At first, he kept the kiss gentle, but when Steve opened his mouth a little, Tony couldn’t resist licking into it and deepening the kiss. It even drew a small moan from Steve who held Tony by his hips, keeping him close to his chest.

They were both panting when they broke apart and Tony enjoyed the sight of Steve’s kiss-swollen lips and the bit of saliva on his chin. Tony grinned like he had just won a trophy for one of his creations.

“Is that your way of telling me you approve?” Steve asked, a little breathless.

“Yes,” Tony said. “I trust your judgement and I know you will be a great mentor for the kid.”

“Thank you.” Steve kissed him again. “I can’t wait to spend my days tending to the horses and grow vegetables and potatoes. Maybe even flowers, just for fun.”

Tony smiled and said, “Sounds lovely.”

Then he started nibbling on Steve’s earlobe, kissed his way down to his jaw, ended on his neck. He didn’t bite Steve, because Bruce didn’t need to see that mark when he returned, or worse – ask questions about it. Steve had closed his eyes and Tony loved how comfortable he looked.

Suddenly, Tony remembered something and drew back.

“Why are you stopping?” Steve asked, opening his eyes again.

“When you’re not the sheriff anymore, does that mean I can finally play poker without you scolding me about it?”

Steve laughed, then shook his head. “No, but I can join you and win the money back that you lost.”

He put a hand on Tony’s neck and pulled him into another kiss. Tony couldn’t help but smile. He also couldn’t wait for their calmer future to finally start.

#stony #stevetony #stevetony games 2023 #team past #fanfic #my writing

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does-this-look-writing-to-you · 2 years

Text

Partners in Crime

title: Partners in Crime words: 842 universe: high school au characters: Logan, Patton pairings: platonic logicality (can be read as pre-romantic) warnings: none i can think of a/n: hello! i'm alive! sorry for not writing anything in the past few months, i’ve been really busy. i started writing this at 11pm as i was on the brink of falling asleep. this is based on one of my favorite tumblr posts, which i unfortunately don’t have the link to. if i find it, i’ll link it. this fic is a bit shorter than my usual work but i still hope you enjoy it.

There were very few things Logan hated more than group projects. He was known to be among the most intelligent students in his class, so naturally he was always saddled with all the work. He didn’t mind doing it; even though it was several times the amount he was meant to do, he usually completed them rather quickly. The part that bothered him was the fact that the people around him found it so easy to take advantage of him. Was he that much of a pushover? So naturally, when his criminology teacher announced that their final for the semester would be a group project, Logan couldn’t keep himself from groaning.

“Someone’s excited,” joked one of his classmates, and laughter rippled through the students around him. He felt his ears grow hot as he scowled and looked down.

Of course this is our final, he thought bitterly as the teacher went on about what their project would be about. Why couldn’t it just be a test, the way finals are supposed to be? I already have enough on my plate, and now I’ll have to single-handedly work through an entire project meant for multiple people. Again.

“Go ahead and pick your partners,” the teacher told them. Logan bit his lip to stop himself from groaning again. Even better! I’m going to be tacked onto a random group of people I don’t particularly know or like. Perfect.

“Hi!” Logan looked up and was met with a cheerful, smiling face adorned with big glasses. “Logan, right? You wanna be partners?”

Logan knew who they were, of course. Their name was Patton. They were one of the only openly queer students at their school and for that he respected them. He had never interacted with them outside of polite greetings in the hallways, but he knew that they were just as smart and capable as he was.

“Alright,” he replied finally.

“Great!” They beamed at him, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him. “So, what do you want to research? I was thinking we could look into that serial robbery case that was going on last year. I’ve already looked into it a little, but I think it could be really cool if we dove deeper into it.” Logan glanced at the paper that had been placed on his desk that detailed the requirements of the assignment. They were meant to research a case from the past five years and how it had been solved, then present their findings in any way they saw fit. “I think it would be really cool if we did a poster, and made it look like one of those conspiracy theory corkboards with the yarn connecting everything.”

That wasn’t a bad idea. “Okay. I like that.”

“Me too!” They giggled. “Let’s get started on the research.”

So they did. Logan was surprised to see that, for once, he wasn’t the one doing all the work. The pair had decided to share a Google Doc, as it was the easiest way for them to keep their findings in one place. Patton’s notes were thorough and well-written, though a bit scattered at times.

“I just thought of something!” they exclaimed after a while. Logan looked up at them. “We’re in criminology class, right?”

“I… Yes.” What other class would they be in? He was reasonably sure that he hadn’t somehow made his way into a math class.

“And we’re partners for this project, right?”

“Right.”

“So we’re partners in crime!”

Logan blinked, processing what they had just said. “That is somehow the worst and best joke I have ever heard.”

Patton giggled. “Oh no, am I pun-der arrest?”

He groaned. “That was so much worse.”

“Yeah, I stole that from a Tumblr post,” they explained. “I like to think my jokes are more creative than that.”

They spent the rest of class working on their project, and by the end they had made a good start on it. Their notes were organized and they had already found pictures that they wanted to use for the poster. Far too soon, the familiar chime of the school bell rang out through the classroom, and everyone around them scrambled to get their bags and leave the room. Patton got up and returned to their own desk. Assuming they didn’t want to talk to him anymore, Logan picked up his own backpack and started out the door. Before he could leave, though, Patton ran up to him. “Do you think I could get your phone number?” they asked. “So we can talk about the project and stuff?”

“Okay.” They took out their phone, and Logan told them his number. Upon glancing at their screen, he noticed that they had inputted his contact name as “Partner in Crime”, followed by emoji depicting a police car and siren. He smiled a bit to himself at that, before resuming his usual stoic expression.

“I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Great! See you tomorrow, partner in crime!” They gave him a wide grin.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#sanders sides #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #logan sanders #patton sanders #ts logan #ts patton #logicality #platonic logicality #pre-romantic logicality

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heyitsme1040 · 4 months

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Hi! I was wondering if I could get a Bucky x Reader where Reader always buys Bucky the warmest, softest things they can find. Hoodies, blankets, socks, even some stuffed animals, if it looks soft and warm they buy it for him. Bucky is confused by it, but then Reader explains that he went without comfort for so long and they just want to let him spend the rest of his life safe and warm. Gender Neutral! Reader would be preferred, however Female!Reader is also fine if you don't want to do that. Thank you in advance, lovely! 💜

Softened by Time [b.b]

summary : Bucky started off as your upstairs neighbor. But over time, the two of you grew closer. Ultimately your feelings were more than platonic, and the two of you began dating. You knew a lot about Bucky’s past, and his present. He felt he didn’t need many things, and he didn’t have much comfort before the two of you began dating. But you made sure once your relationship started to fix that. As the relationship progressed, you gave Bucky little gifts. A warm hoodie, soft socks, a plush blanket, and a stuffed wolf. It was on the anniversary of his freedom returning that you revealed the reason you give him so many little pieces of comfort.

pairings : Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings : None, just tooth rotting domestic fluff. This is gender neutral (as requested) and has no use of Y/N. Personally I don’t think ‘baby’ is a gendered pet name, so hopefully I was successful with your request. (if I missed anything let me know!)

word count : 3,900

AO3 (x)

a/n : Thank you so much for the request! I had this done sooner, but when I visited family for the holiday my cousin’s toddler deleted the word doc I was writing in. So this is actually a redone version of what I was going to post. Sorry it took so long (and this also proves to my family why I don’t typically write outside of google docs). Sorry for the delay in getting this up, but thank you so much for the request lovely!

You practically skipped down the hall to the elevator. You were glad the elevator didn't take long as you pressed the button for the floor above yours. You moved swiftly down the hall to Bucky's apartment. You held the small package securely behind your back, eager to give him the small gift that had just arrived. You knocked quickly before hearing a muffled shout to hold on. The quiet grumbling slowly grew louder as he approached the door, face melting from annoyance to adoration as the door swung inward.

"Hi," Bucky breathed out, wrapping his arms around you, "I wasn't expecting you until later."

You balanced on your tip-toes, leaning up to press a quick kiss against his cheek. "I just couldn't wait," you admitted.

Bucky's arms dropped from around you as he stepped to the side so you could walk in. You'd gotten used to how barren his apartment was. Discussed how he'd never had this many things since before the draft. As you passed through his doorway you brought the small package in front of you, crossing the room. You sat on his couch, beaming at him as he sat beside you.

"I got you something!" Your excitement was barely able to stay contained much longer. You set the small bag on his lap, clasping your hands together.

"Baby, you didn't have to do that," Bucky says softly, looking down at the small package.

"I wanted to," you insist, "besides it's nothing big, I promise."

Bucky meets your eyes with a look of amazement, a gentle expression conveying everything you already know. He gives a small nod before picking up the little bag. He reaches in and pulls out the socks you'd ordered. His brow furrows slightly as he feels the soft material, a confused smile adorning his face.

"I know they're not your usual choice," you begin, "but I thought they'd be nice for when you're just hanging out. Instead of always wearing athletic socks around the apartment. The floors get too cold for how thin those socks are."

Bucky leans over and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Thank you, I never would have thought of that."

You leaned further into his side, glad that the pack of socks was well received. You cuddled further into him as he pulled a pair of the patterned socks on. You stayed through the afternoon, enjoying Bucky's company. The two of you were laughing as you told him about your most recent incident at work. As you were describing the look on your boss' face when he realized he'd given the entire presentation with smudged lipstick along his neck, Bucky's phone rang. He sighed as he stood, crossing the room to grab the device. You couldn't hear what the person on the other line was saying, but from Bucky’s quick responses you knew he had a mission.

So as not to disturb him, you quietly pulled on your shoes. You went to give Bucky a quick kiss goodbye when his arm wrapped around you.

“I'll be there in thirty minutes,” Bucky ended the call.

You draped your arms over his shoulders, “I thought we lived twenty minutes from the tower?”

Smiling down at you Bucky shrugs. “I wanted a bit more time with you. Especially when I wanted to give you this,” Bucky reached into his pocket. He handed you a small silver key.

“Your key? Is this a long mission? I don't mind house sitting for you.”

Bucky smiled and gave a small shake of his head. “It's my spare key. I figured that it made sense to give you it. We've been dating for a few months, and we spend so much time together.”

You wrapped your arms around Bucky's shoulders, hugging him as tightly as possible. “Thank you,” you whispered against him.

Your heart swelled at the gesture. You knew how hard it was for him to trust people. It'd been a slow process to get to know each other. A full year of small interactions that slowly lead to the beginning of your friendship. As your friendship solidified, so did your feelings for Bucky. You were surprised by the fact your feelings were mutual when Bucky asked you on the first date. Now, four months later, you don't think you've ever been happier.

“I wouldn't want anyone else to have it,” Bucky whispers back to you. “Let me grab my go-bag and I'll walk you back to your apartment.”

The two of you left the apartment hand in hand, with you locking the door behind you.

It was officially two weeks since Bucky gave you a key to his apartment, which meant you hadn’t heard from him for two weeks either. You stayed busy, trying your best not to think about how he may be risking his life right this second. You had deep cleaned your entire apartment, made sure to grab Bucky’s mail when you got your own, and generally stayed in. Today, as you were closing the door to Bucky’s apartment after setting his mail down on the kitchen counter you decided to venture out. You had managed this long with just quick trips to the grocery store, but the cabin fever had fully set in today. Unsure of how busy a place you wanted to be, you settled on the bookstore across town.

You meandered your way up and down the isles, finding a few books that piqued your interest. It was as you were heading up to the registers that you saw the display. It was in the children’s section, next to where volunteers would read stories to the children. An entire bookcase was filled with stuffed animals. The one that had caught your eye the most was on the bottom shelf. A small white and gray wolf with icy blue eyes. You couldn’t help it as you grabbed the animal and added it to your stack of items.

Before long you had your books and wolf secured in the bag. You were walking toward the train station, thinking about when to give your little surprise to Bucky. You had no idea when he’d be returning from his mission, but what you did know was it was coming up on the anniversary of when he was declared to be officially deprogrammed of the Winter Soldier’s activation words. You remembered when you found out Bucky had been declared as the “white wolf” by the children of Wakanda. He’d seemed embarrassed by the nickname when he first told you, but you had reassured him that it suited him.

The train made quick work of taking you across the city. You were soon walking into your apartment building, taking the stairs up to your floor. It was when you turned the corner that led you down the hall to your door that you spotted him. Bucky had his bag over his shoulder, his jacket hanging open while his boots were caked in dried mud.

He was lifting his arm to knock on your door as you opened your mouth, “You’re back!”

Bucky turned to see you approaching. As soon as you were close enough for him to reach you, he pulled you into him. His arms wrapped tightly around you as his shoulders slumped. His head rested atop yours while you hugged him back.

“Are you okay? Injured anywhere?” You worried about him.

Bucky shook his head, his cheek rubbing against the crown of your head. You gave him one final squeeze before managing to turn around in his hold. You slotted your key into the door and led the two of you inside. You toed off your shoes as Bucky unwrapped one arm to close the door behind the two of you. Not bothering to turn the lights on as you made your way through the apartment, the path to your room easy to navigate. You gently put the bag from the bookstore on the ground before Bucky pulled the two of you onto the bed.

He landed on his back, angling the landing so that you would be lying atop him. His eyes were closed as you laid against him. The steady thump-thump of his heart beneath your ear revealed how relaxed he was. As you lifted your head, you heard the quietest snore slip out from him, revealing just how tired he was. You stood from his hold, taking a minute to unlace his boots before slipping his feet from them. You grabbed his go-bag from the doorway and removed the one pair of sweatpants and the soft hoodie you had given him weeks ago.

Sitting beside his head, you gently cupped his bearded cheek. “Jamie,” you called out in a hushed tone. “Darling, I need you to wake up.”

The rhythm of Bucky’s snores faltered.

“It’ll be just a moment, I promise. I grabbed you some comfy clothes. If you change, we can cuddle under the blanket.”

Bucky’s eyes cracked open ever so slightly at your offer. You could tell he was weighing whether cuddling under the blanket would be better than sleeping immediately. As he thought, your thumb traced a path back and forth against his bearded cheek. It wasn’t often he let his short stubble go beyond being just that, but you enjoyed the way the bristly hair felt against your skin. It took just a few moments more for him to close his eyes once again with an exaggerated exhale as he sat up. The smallest uptick of his lips revealed that he was just being dramatic about changing his clothes.

“Thank you,” you kissed his cheek as you passed him the folded stack of fabric.

He lazily nodded as he grabbed the items, turning to walk the few steps into your bathroom. As he changed you pulled back the covers of your bed. You tucked yourself under the blanket, glad you had decided to dress comfortably when deciding to finally leave your apartment. Once Bucky reappeared from the dark bathroom, you lifted your arm while lifting the blanket. Bucky wasted no time in crawling into the bed, letting your arm drape across him as the blanket encased the two of you together. His arm settled into the slight dip of your waist pulling you against his chest. The hoodie he now wore was pushed up around his waist, the two of you lying chest to chest. You rested your cheek against his chest, feeling the warmth radiate from where his skin touched the thin material of your shirt before your legs tangled together.

As the two of you fell asleep facing each other, you appreciated the way his face relaxed so openly. It wasn’t often Bucky looked so untroubled, and you couldn’t help but wish you could get him to look this untroubled when he was awake too.

The week following Bucky’s return from his mission was blissful. With the intensity of his last mission and this one, and the duration of the two, he wasn’t assigned to go on another mission for at least a full month. You weren’t certain what his missions entailed, but Bucky was willing to reveal that he was making great progress on the mission his assigned missions were for. The information he managed to gather would take the other teams at least a month to fully analyze, and in the meantime it seemed he was determined to spend all his time with you.

You were hoping to surprise Bucky with a lunch date today. You had a plan, texting him to meet you at the restaurant for one. You heard as his door loudly closed behind him upstairs at noon. Moments later your phone buzzed with a message from Sam. Tin man is coming over now you read on the screen. You quickly sent your thanks before grabbing the box you’d prepared. Seeing that five minutes had passed since the Bucky’s apartment door closed, you made sure you had everything before sneaking up to his apartment.

The box balanced on your hip as you unlocked his door. Slipping inside, you got to work. You spread the oversized, fluffy, cider colored blanket over the arm of his couch. You had never been more thankful that his coffee table was barren of clutter as you spread out the snacks you had brought over. Soon the small table was covered by a tray of cookies, bags of sweets, cans of soda and bottles of water. You crossed the room and set your stack of movies beside his DVD player. Glancing over the room once more, you nodded as everything was set up. Finally, you set the wolf you had bought in Bucky’s usual seat. Your phone buzzed from your pocket as the alarm you had set began to go off. Swiping it away, you exited Bucky’s apartment and headed toward the restaurant.

Just as you were being seated, Bucky arrived. You watched as he made quick work of crossing the small dining room. The dark jeans he wore contrasted well with the light blue shirt he had on beneath his usual leather jacket. His cheeks were slightly tinged pink from the constant wind outside.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said before quickly kissing your cheek then taking a seat across from you.

You waved his worry away easily, “I just got here. I figured I would get us a table before they,” you gestured to the large group that was speaking with the host, “tried to get one.”

Bucky’s chuckle made you smile.

Your lunch date carried on with laughter and smiles being shared. Everything between the two of you was so natural, every moment as easy as breathing.

“Would you like to come up?” Bucky offered as you both made your way up the stairs together.

“That sounds great,” you swung his hand in yours.

You bit your lip as the two of you carried on past your floor. You were going over everything you had set up before leaving as Bucky slid his key in the lock. As his door swung open, he stepped out of the way so you could go in first. You stepped into the entryway before turning around to catch his reaction. Just as you faced Bucky, he stopped in his tracks. His brows furrowed slightly at the scene laid out before him while a mystified reaction made its way to his features.

“Surprise,” you giggled. “I thought we could have a movie day!”

“Baby,” Bucky’s breathless voice exhaled. “What’s all this?”

You gently grabbed his hands and pulled him along as you walked backward. “Well, I thought we could have a date-day. Get lunch, watch movies, and spend time together,” you explained. “Not that we haven’t been spending time together. But rather, I wanted to surprise you with a planned time together.”

Bucky’s wonderstruck expression melted away as you spoke, fondness clear in his gaze. “That sounds wonderful,” he quietly rasped out.

You couldn’t help the way your shoulders relaxed at his response. You figured he would like your surprise, but hearing how happy he was with your plan filled you with warmth. You couldn’t stop the surprised squeak that escaped your lips as Bucky picked you up, spun the two of you around, and fell back on the couch with you held close. Where his head now lay made the wolf you got him fall over onto his face. A breathless laugh escaped him as the soft plush bounced off his head.

“And who is this?” He pulled one arm from around you and grabbed the toy.

“Your spirit animal,” you joked. “To keep you company when I’m downstairs and you’re up here.”

Bucky’s attention shifted from your gaze to the plush that now looked small in his hold. Realization colored his tone as he spoke, “A white wolf.”

You nodded reiterating, “Like I said. Your spirit animal.”

Bucky’s laughter shook you where you lay against him, before he nodded as well. “In that case, he should watch movies with us.”

You leant down to press your lips against his before sitting up. As you stood up Bucky shifted so his head was atop the blanket and against the arm of the couch. You felt his eyes on you as you ambled across the room, powering on his DVD player and opening the first movie you planned on playing.

“I still don’t see why you won’t let me make you a profile on my streaming accounts,” you mumbled to yourself as the disc tray slid back in the player.

“Because then you would have no reason to keep your DVD collection,” Bucky replied easily. “And I don’t need to buy another new television.”

“You wouldn’t need a different television,” you argued as you pulled the blanket out from beneath his head. “You’d just need one of those dongle things that lets you make a TV into a smart TV.”

Bucky laughed, “You know I have no idea what any of that means, right?”

“Old man,” you grumbled with a roll of your eyes as you laid against Bucky’s chest once again, this time with the blanket sprawled out to cover the two of you.

Bucky grabbed the remote from your hand, “Aren’t you the one who always points out that we’re physically the same age?”

As the TV turns on you hear the familiar sounds of the selection menu on the screen. “And aren’t you the one that likes to brag about reading The Hobbit when it first came out?” You retort with a smile.

Before he can respond, you gently push Bucky’s cheek so his eyes are on the screen. You know the instant he sees that the movie you chose was The Hobbit. You make quick work of pressing play on the remote still in his grasp. Cozying up to Bucky, you replace the remote with your hand as the opening scenes play.

You couldn’t help the yawn that escaped you as you watched the movie end, Frodo making his visit to Bilbo. You enjoyed the movie, but relaxing alongside your boyfriend for three hours made you sleepy.

“What d’ya think?” You tiredly mumbled.

“I think that despite all the sugar we just ate,” Bucky turns off the TV, “we should get you in bed.”

“No,” you weakly protest. “Not that. The movie!”

“Baby,” you felt Bucky’s hand gently cup your cheek, “I really think we should go to bed.”

You slowly blinked as you processed his words. “That sounds nice,” you sighed.

You slowly sat up, but before you could stand Bucky’s arms slid beneath you. Between one moment and the next Bucky was carrying you to bed. The easy sway of his steps had you easily creeping closer to sleep. The softness of the mattress greeted you as he set you down.

“The movie was good,” Bucky began, his voice traveling around the room. “I wasn’t upset with the things they changed, but I don’t understand some of the changes either.”

You hummed, hoping it would encourage him to keep talking.

“Here, I grabbed you some clothes to sleep in,” Bucky’s voice came from beside you.

When you opened your eyes again, his form was blurry. You sat up, pulling your shirt over your head. You reached out blindly, feeling soft fabric. You went to take it from Bucky’s hold, but he carefully guided your arms through the holes before pulling it over your head.

“Is it okay for me to change your pants?” Bucky asked clearly.

You laid back while nodding sloppily, “Tha’s fine,” you slurred out.

You felt Bucky’s hand at your waistband, undoing the button and zipper. “I enjoyed the day with you. It was nice.”

“Good, you deserve nice things. Especially today.”

“Is that so?” Bucky pulled your pants off completely.

You squinted at him in a weak attempt of glaring. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Bucky didn’t respond as he pulled a large pair of shorts up to your waist. He pulled the covers over you before you heard him step away.

The bed dipped down beside you before he responded, “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve a lot of things.”

“Hey,” you turned to face Bucky, his response making you more alert. “You deserve nice things. All the time. And even if you don’t think so, I do. So I’ll keep getting you little things, because you deserve them.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Bucky cupped your cheek again. “I have you, and that’s more than I deserve.”

You pouted, wishing you could make him understand. “Life isn’t always about what is deserved. Or isn’t deserved. It can also be about things you want. I want to get you nice things. I want to make sure you know how much I love you. I want to be the person you go to when missions are so hard you don’t talk for days afterwards. You deserve to have someone that notices little details about you. I want to celebrate important days with you, and give you soft things to make up for the years you didn’t have anything. I want to make you smile and feel loved. And you deserve all those things. You deserve to be loved, and have someone care about you wholly.”

There was a beat of silence before Bucky crashed his lips against yours once again. The passion held between his lips that consumed you took your breath away. Your head spun, and you couldn't tell if it was just because of him or a lack of air. The answer didn’t matter. All too soon Bucky broke away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours while panting. You felt his warm breaths puff against your lips as you leaned in to kiss him again. He held you still from where he cupped your cheeks.

“That’s why?” Bucky asked between gasps of air.

“Why what?” You whispered into the small gap between the two of you.

“That’s why you get me little things? Like the socks, the blanket, the wolf. Because I went so long without?”

“I get you them because I want to. And I hope that it makes up for the years you had no choices. I know it’s dumb,” you try to explain. “But I hope it makes up for all the pain you never deserved. I got the wolf to represent that chapter of your life being over, and I gave it to you today to celebrate the anniversary of you gaining your freedom back. I got you the hoodie because I know how much the cold bothers you deep down. I found the socks because you don’t need to only buy things to be practical. The blanket was a bit selfish, I admit it. But I wanted to be able to cuddle you close while having plenty of blanket left.”

Bucky let out a small whine deep in his throat, “Baby…”

“I just want you to realize how much I love you. And I choose you every time, because I want you in my life. And sometimes it feels like I don’t deserve you, but for some reason you choose me too. And you never fail to show me just how much you care about me.”

“I love you so much.”

You lean in to kiss Bucky, and this time he doesn’t stop your lips from connecting.

Also, here's what items I am talking about in the fic.

*picture credit goes to Amazon for product images, and I made them into the collage myself*

Author's Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.

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chloegong · 3 years

Text

that semi-AU romajuliette + benmars fic

i need a permanent place to store this after dumping a random google doc on twitter so here it is, the author writing fic for her own book because people gave me headcanons and they were too good not to make use of

the one where juliette and marshall go out for a night out on the town and roma and ben have to go along to supervise because one time they accidentally committed arson —headcanon from twitter user @leonidasvaldz

a semi AU where Benedikt and Marshall were hanging out with Roma and Juliette in those happy months R&J had together in 1922 before everything went wrong (aka you can take this as canon because it will fit the timeline but the characters won’t have memory of this in the actual published books)

Disclaimer: i wrote this in one go inside a starbucks please expect ao3 user chloegong and not Author Chloe Gong who does multiple rounds of edits on her books

Second Disclaimer: nobody go putting this on goodreads before someone on my publishing team kicks my ass (rightfully so, i’m on deadline rn and i’m writing fanfic instead of my real contracted manuscript)

Mandatory reminder that Our Violent Ends is available for preorder with all links here :)

It wasn’t supposed to happen again. And yet, somehow, Benedikt was watching fire curl around the side of the building, the roof beams giving a loud groan before shuddering and caving in on itself.

He turned a look onto Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

Five hours earlier...

Juliette climbed in through the window of Roma’s bedroom, careful to hug the burlap bag close to her chest as she landed on his carpet. The howling wind outside drowned out some of the clinking, but the glass bottles were still making a racket no matter how carefully she hugged the bag. She had gone full throttle for tonight; when no one was watching and her relatives were downstairs crowing over a game of cards, she had snuck around and robbed the liquor cabinets at the Scarlet mansion quite generously. Now she dropped the bag onto Roma’s floor with a huff, brushing a curl of hair out of her eyes.

“Where’s Marshall?”

Roma looked up from where he was reading, putting his book down and rising from the bed smoothly.

“Well, hello.” He strode toward her, stopping before her with his arms crossed. “Lovely to see you too. You do know it is my bedroom you just snuck into, right?”

Juliette pretended to jump in surprise, looking around wildly. “Do you jest? Oh, bother. Let me climb back out and go find my real lover. Marshall! Where are—”

With a huff that seemed to double as a laugh, Roma grabbed her wrist before she could turn around and leave through the window again.

“You’re hilarious,” he said dryly.

“I know.” Juliette reached up with her free hand, clasping her cold fingers right onto his neck. Though her palm was freezing from the bitter temperatures outside, Roma hardly flinched, he only shrugged his shoulder up to keep her hand there. He couldn’t fight back the grin. For several seconds, the two of them only stood there, looking like a pair of idiots smiling at each other.

Then his door opened.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Marshall bounded into the room, throwing the door wide open. With a horrified expression, Benedikt hurried in after him and closed the door quickly, listening for movement on the other side.

“Yes, leave the door wide open,” Benedikt said. “While any White Flower strolling the corridor can peer in and see the Scarlet heir standing there in a silly coat.”

Juliette stepped away from Roma, peering down at herself as if she had forgotten what she put on. “I didn’t think it was that silly. It’s my disguise.”

“You do look a little like a housewife,” Marshall said, considering the coat.

“A fifteen-year-old housewife?”

“I suppose that is exactly why you look a little silly.”

Juliette pulled a face, but refrained from arguing further. She was here tonight because Marshall wanted to see the new Scarlet club that opened along Thibet Road, and she had promised she could sneak him in. Unfortunately, Marshall was bad at keeping secrets, and the worst at keeping secrets from Benedikt. The moment that Benedikt heard Marshall was planning on entering Scarlet territory, he had decided that he would come in accompaniment.

Juliette supposed it was only fair. Benedikt didn’t entirely trust her, but he was nice enough. He tolerated her presence and always kept an eye over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t spotted on their territory if she poked her head in to see Roma. While Juliette didn’t know much about Marshall either, he was far warmer than his best friend, and for the first time last week, they had even enjoyed an outing with just the two of them. Juliette Cai and Marshall Seo—out and about in the border territories on a quaint evening.

That outing had ended with accidental arson though, so it was rather possible that exacerbated Benedikt’s desire to play chaperone. And of course, if Benedikt was coming along, Roma wanted to tag along too.

The arson was hardly their fault, Juliette and Marshall had maintained when the Montagovs asked questions. What kind of person left a stack of hay out beside a bar? And what kind of hay was that easily flammable just from accidentally whacking one of the lanterns on the awning onto the stack?

“All right.” Juliette hauled the bag up again. “Are we ready to sneak onto Scarlet territory?”

“Absolutely not,” Benedikt muttered, strolling past her for Roma’s window. “But is that going to stop either of you?”

Before anyone could answer him, Benedikt had already hopped the small gap between windows, climbing into their neighboring building for their route out unspotted.

“Great!” Juliette said. She passed the bag to Roma so he could do the carrying. What was the point of converting a rival gang enemy into a lover if not to lug around her heavy things? “Glad we’re all so enthusiastic.”

Roma sighed, clambering onto his sill and making the climb too. “The things I do for you, dorogaya.”

Marshall hurried after him. “I would argue you’re actually doing this for me, dearest Roma!”

With a snort, Juliette climbed out last, and pulled the window after her.

The Scarlet club had been a bust. Of course, Benedikt had figured that would be the case from the get-go, especially if they were sneaking in at such a late hour to avoid being seen by anyone important in the Scarlet Gang. At least Juliette had provided good alcohol, and now he squinted at the label of the wine bottle under the street lamps while they walked, taking the smaller main roads along the periphery of the city.

Up ahead, Roma and Juliette were whispering to each other, though they didn’t sound like they were talking in full sentences. Those two always communicated in looks and gestures, swapping languages whenever they felt like it and ending up with some incoherent tangle of words that no one else could comprehend.

“Is there anything left in that?”

Benedikt glanced to his side, shaking the bottle to show Marshall. “One last swig. All yours.”

Marshall took the bottle. He put it to his lips and swung up, his head tipped to the sky and the line of his throat bared to the night. Benedikt shivered suddenly, a line of goosebumps rising at the back of his neck. The season had turned cold and the wind that blew onto his face was biting. He wrote off his shudder to the chill, to the temperature dropping with the longer they spent outside at such an hour.

Suddenly, Marshall was squinting into the distance. “Hey.” His call summoned Roma and Juliette’s attention from ahead, who both turned around to see what the matter was.

Marshall pointed to the dark shape off the end of the road. “Isn’t that the abandoned factory we lost to the Scarlets?”

“Is it?” Juliette asked, a sudden glee in her face.

“Why would you say that?” Roma bemoaned. He didn’t bother trying to stop her as Juliette hurried ahead, eager to explore the factory. “Look what you’ve done.”

But Marshall was wearing a similar expression, his eyes scanning the factory as they approached closer and closer. Wordlessly, he handed the bottle back to Benedikt, and though Benedikt’s head was spinning from the drink, he still recognized the exact face that Marshall made before he was going to get himself into trouble.

“Mars—”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he insisted, tipping his chin forward. Juliette had disappeared into the factory. “You two be look-out. We wouldn’t want someone finding us here, right?”

Benedikt scarcely had a second to argue back. Marshall was already hurrying off.

Inside the factory, Juliette trailed her hands along the dark walls, her eyes wide. The machines looked strange in the moonlight, but stranger while sitting so idle. She was used to seeing rows and rows of workers in the daytime, trailing after her father as he ran inspections on the work of their trade partners. It might have been the wine in her system, but everything seemed to sway: sitting so inactive in movement that her eyes were imagining movement.

“Pst.”

Juliette almost jumped out of her skin.

“Christ,” she muttered, whirling around with a hand on her heart. Marshall slunk out from the shadows, both his hands in his pockets. “You gave me a fright.”

“Me? Frightening?” Marshall picked up a strange object on the table, inspected it for several seconds, then set it back down. “I am the least frightening person on the planet.”

“Yes, well, when it’s so dark, even a cuddly teddy bear would be terrifying.” Juliette felt around her dress. She thought she had tucked her lighter in here somewhere. There were little pockets sewn around the sleeves and armholes that she kept all her weapons, though if anyone asked, she would say she had the ability to materialize them out of thin air.

“Do you scream often at teddy bears?”

“Only when they sneak up on me.”

“I don’t see you screaming at Roma.”

“He gets a special pass. He’s only a teddy bear on the inside.”

Marshall snorted. He leaned down, trying to read the paper taped down to the table. At last, Juliette found her lighter—it was actually in her sock—and she brought it close, thumbing down the sparkwheel for a flame.

“Do not touch—for demolishing,” Marshall read under the new light. “Are the Scarlets going to build something new here?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Juliette replied. “My father doesn’t include me in his business meetings yet.”

“Hmm.” The shadows of the factory danced. Juliette thought she saw someone darting in her periphery, and she whirled around, but it was only Marshall’s shadow. Unfortunately, she had scared Marshall with her movement, and he bumped into her, asking, “What? What is it?”

The lighter flew out of her hands, landing on the paper.

“Nothing, nothing!” Juliette assured. “I was seeing things.”

But Marshall wasn’t convinced. He swiveled around. Peered hard into a corner. “Was it ghosts? I know this city has ghosts. All that death creates so many ghosts.”

Juliette tried to look where he was looking. She couldn’t see anything except the dark.

“There is no such thing as ghosts.”

“Just last week, I felt something walk by me and then there was no one when I looked. I swear to you, if it wasn’t ghosts then I—” Marshall stopped suddenly, turning around to look at the table. “Uh… is that supposed to happen?”

Juliette whirled around too. The whole table was on fire. “Oh, God.”

With a sudden pop, the fire sprung up and licked up to the walls. There had to be something sprayed inside the factory already to prepare for demolition, or else the flames would not be traveling with such intensive speed.

“Marshall,” Juliette said simply.

“Yes?”

She looked at him. “When the Montagovs ask, we blame the factory and say we have no idea what happened. Run!”

Benedikt and Roma kept watch in relative silence. Benedikt’s head was spinning, and his cousin looked like his head was doing the same if his swaying was any indication. Roma was humming softly under his breath, toeing the grass that grew around the abandoned factory.

Then, there was a sudden sound from inside, and the first tendrils of flames blew out from the topmost windows.

“Roma,” Benedikt said plainly. “I’m willing to bet my life savings that Juliette Cai just committed arson.”

Roma tilted his head up, his jaw dropping agape. At first, he could only stare at the growing fire, eating up the roof beams. Then, he said: “To be fair, it could have been Marshall.”

Benedikt threw his arms into the air. “Who looks more like the arson type, Juliette or Marshall?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“The answer was Juliette!”

Benedikt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was rapidly growing concerned, but before he could suggest they go in to search for the two, Juliette and Marshall ran out from the factory—laughing. The factory was burning down, and they were laughing, grasping at each other and spinning in circles right in front of the factory. They looked a sight: seconds away from collapsing atop of each other in utter delirium.

Benedikt turned to Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

Roma was struggling to hold back his laugh watching her with Marshall. “I think she’s magnificent.”

Marshall stumbled, and Juliette squealed, reaching out to grab his arm before he could trip and land flat on his face. Benedikt almost—almost—let a smile slip. Before Roma could sight it and tease him for enjoying himself after all, he cleared his throat.

“What happened?” he bellowed.

“Faulty factory!” Marshall called back.

Benedikt shook his head, turning on his heel. They needed to get out of here before someone reported the fire.

“Come on!” he called back to the three. “Let’s go before the Municipal Police arrive.”

Upon Benedikt’s summons, Marshall left Juliette’s side and hurried to catch up. He slowed to a stroll once he was beside Benedikt, but Benedikt could feel Marshall watching him.

“What?” Benedikt asked. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his cousin was following too. Thankfully he was, though it was mostly Juliette hauling him along, their hands clasped together and swinging while Roma kept looking at the fire.

“I think you enjoyed yourself,” Marshall replied smugly. “After all that complaining about sneaking into Scarlet territory.”

Benedikt reached out and rapped his knuckles on Marshall’s skull. With a shriek, Marshall darted ahead.

“You want me to enjoy myself?” Benedikt shouted after him, breaking into a run too. “Come back then! Let me throttle you!”

FIN.

#these violent delights #romajuliette #benediktmarshall #how am i out here using my own book tags this feels weird FKJDHSDKJFH #should i tag my own name too #chloe gong #now i've gone and done it #bookblr #yabooks

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hermitcraftheadcanons · 3 years

Note

I just spent the entire day reading the scattered au and I think I have a new obsession now anyways more angst because I had the mental image and now I want everyone to cry with me

Whenever Etho respawns, he tries his best to help whichever hermit he is with the best he can. Sometimes it's updating them on what's going on, who's doing what. Sometimes it's tracking them down, finding any way possible to pass them the message: head to 0,0. Sometimes it's just to keep them company for a few days as they recover or prepare for the long road ahead. Sometimes, rarely, it's to help them escape the death loop they're stuck in, whether if it's shielding Impulse from a guardian's beam as he desperately hacked the prismarine stone surrounding them, whether if it's distracting the warden for long enough that Xisuma can make a break towards the safe hole he dug, or whether if it's grabbing BDubs and shielding their fall onto the end islands by using his own body as a cushion. If there was even the slimmest chance of escaping, Etho would find a way to help, no matter how small that chance is.

Then you have people who gave up that slim chance of escaping a long time ago.

Grian was still stuck on the blasted mountain peak, freezing to death over and over again. Etho had already informed Doc and Ren where he was, and they were making their way to the top, no matter how slow the progress. The problem is there's no way to speed the process up. Grian doesn't want to move anymore. Grian's too weak to move anymore. He's stuck dying again and again with nothing left to do, and there's no other way to help.

The last time Etho saw him he looked so much worse than their last meeting. He looked tiny, wings frozen stiff and curled into a ball in a last ditch attempt to stay warm. His wings looked horrible, and Etho doubt he could ever fly again, not that Grian looked bothered about it. Once upon a time, but not any longer. An artic fox snuggled beside him, probably the only source of warmth he had for weeks. His hair was almost completely white, fingers black from frostbite and the rest of his skin blue from the cold.

The fox shifted, probably startled by Etho's sudden appearance. It sat up, staring into Etho's eyes, then Grian moved. Barely, slightly, but enough to notice.

"K-kit," The fox, Kit, Etho presumed, returned to resting beside Grian, who used what Etho can guess to be the last of his energy to rest his freezing hand on Kit.

"Your friend?" Etho asked, to which Grian replied with what can be barely considered a nod. He looked miserable, and there was not much Etho could do to help.

Well, besides what he already did the past few times spawning up at the peak of the world.

Carefully, Etho nudged Kit away from Grian. The fox likely would've objected if it could speak, but settled itself with keeping watch nearby. Then, gently, like he was holding a glass vase, Etho gathered Grian into his arms, cradling him in the cold as best as he could.

End, he was freezing. Etho didn't know what was colder, the snow around him or the avian in his arms. There was nothing he could do to help him off this wretched place, but the least he could do was give him the warmth he was denied to for months.

And Grian sobs. Etho felt him heave in his arms, as the freezing arms cling onto Etho with what little strength left in them. And Etho holds him closer, where it was warm enough that his tears could flow freely without freezing onto his cheeks. And Etho tells him over and over again, as Grian's heartbeat slows and he's doomed to respawn and relive the pain all over again, "It's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay."

And the heartbeat stops, and there was a quiet poof, and Etho was lying in the snow hugging thin air.

Etho wished that he could stay a little longer, hold up until Grian respawns again, tell him that he's not alone. But Etho's own body was freezing, and it won't be long till his own death.

Etho rolled over to see Kit sitting patiently in the snow, waiting for Grian's inevitable return.

"... Take good care of him, alright buddy?" Kit tilts its head, and Etho takes it as a good enough response. Then everything goes black.

The next time Etho sees Doc, the only words he got out before plummeting into the ravine from a misstep was "Hurry up,"

Scattered AU nostalgia is always welcome! Especially the painful kind, and this certainly delivered...great writing!

- Mod Shade

#ethoslab #grian #hermitcraft #mod shade #queue #scattered AU #tw freezing

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hellion-writes · 3 years

Text

Surprise Conversations

Pairing: 10th Doctor x reader (intended as platonic)

Pronouns used: They/them (gender neutral reader)

Summary: When life isn’t great for you, a strange man talks to you when you’re at your lowest.

Word count: 2,345 (edited)

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, mentions of self harm, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, self deprecation

(A/N): Wrote this as a sort of vent/comfort within the span of 3ish hours and it’s currently 6:30 in the morning. This takes place sometime between Martha and Donna. Enjoy and ignore the awful title and writing pls

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It was always behind you, looming over your shoulder and breathing down your neck with saccharine addled air. You breathed in that oxygen against your will; sometimes that was the only way you could get through the day. Other times, it was the thing that ruined your perfect day.

It whispered in your ear whenever you made a mistake, no matter how small. It only started yelling whenever you started to decline, escalating to screaming when you were at your worst. You could swear that your eardrums were tattered beyond belief and that you could hear the remnants of the voice in the back of your mind whenever it wasn’t there, but you just chalked it up to the pains of growing up and becoming an adult.

You listened to it sometimes. You listened to it when it told you that you were a failure for getting anything besides a perfect score on a test. You listened to it when it told you that you were incapable of love when you and your childhood best friend started to drift apart. You listened to it when it told you that slashing at your skin with the razor blade you had unscrewed from a handheld pencil sharpener would solve your problems. And for the most part, you felt as if it was best that you listened to it.

There were times that you ignored it, though; this was usually whenever it’s ideas were too drastic for the situation. It called for you to jump when you came across ledges and bridges. It beckoned you towards the knife block and commanded you to stick them all in your abdomen. It wants you to jump onto the rails whenever you are boarding a train.

Ignoring it was hard, but doable when you didn’t have anything to stress out about. A couple of cuts and you’d be good to go for the day. It would be silent.

That was until things started to pile up. Bill due dates were getting closer and closer, friends were increasingly leaving, your debts were growing larger and larger, and your family was basically nonexistent in helping you with your problems. So you decided to finally give in and listen to everything the voice told you to do.

You found yourself at your favorite part of the city you lived in: the bridge overlooking the ocean. It had a perfect view of the moon and it’s beams glistening on the ever moving waves. It gave you some comfort that things would continue after you would be at your end. It was beautiful and you’d be damned if you didn’t at least have something to see before you died.

You were sitting on the ledge, feeling the salty sea breeze raise the goosebumps on your skin. Your grip on the metal bars was tight, almost as steely as the beam itself. Your feet dangled over the abyss limply.

“Hey.” A voice broke through the quiet, making you jump out of your skin and almost lose your grip on the bars. “Sorry,” they awkwardly coughed. A figure came to a seated position next to you, dragging your eyes off from the waves below.

The first thing you registered about him was the gravity-defying hair slightly being shifted by the breeze. In the back of your mind, you wondered how much gel he had to use to get it to stick up like that. The second thing you noticed was the way he looked at you. His eyes were expressive, probably more so than the average person. They were a deep brown color, the pupil almost blending in with his iris.

“So, I assume you aren’t out here for a little stroll?” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes and gave you a sliver of a smile. You shook your head and returned to looking over at the ocean. He sat with you in silence for a moment before he spoke up, “what’s your name?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“I like meeting new people,” he shrugged. “If it makes it easier, I’ll tell you mine: I’m the Doctor.”

“Doctor who?” You asked skeptically.

“Just the Doctor,” he grinned widely.

“Well Doctor, it’s strange that you’re making small talk with someone sitting on the ledge.”

“Like I said, I like meeting new people… Nice day outside, isn’t it? Or should I say night?”

“Yeah,” you hummed quietly. Silence enveloped you both once more, only the sounds of each other’s breathing and the occasional shuffle being heard whenever one of you moved. It was starting to unnerve you, so you decided that telling him your name wasn’t going to do any harm. “(Y/n).”

“What?” He asked quietly.

“(Y/n). That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” you sighed out the last phrase. Normally, you would’ve said it with a large grin and happiness exuding from your every feature but you just felt numb.

“(Y/n),” he said slowly, as if getting a feel for your name, “that’s a lovely name. It suits you, you know. Nice to meet you,” he stuck a hand out towards you and gave you a smile that almost melted the numbness that froze you. You stared at it for a moment before slowly moving to grasp his hand in yours and give it a firm little shake.

“Likewise,” you mumbled. He jumped slightly when your cold skin met his warm hand, looking at you in alarm.

“You’re freezing,” he said before shrugging off his trench coat and laying it across your shoulders. An instant warmth enveloped you, making you unconsciously lean into the warmth. He was warm, incredibly warm. When your nose brushed against the collar, you caught a slight whiff of cologne and… something that you couldn’t place your finger on. Maybe apples or grass? Or a mixture of the two, you didn’t ponder on it. The Doctor was warm and he smelled good.

“Well being cold is the least of my worries right now, Doc,” a small chuckle left you. You gestured at the water below you wordlessly. It was then that you noticed his slightly beaten up off white converse shoes. “Nice shoes by the way. Not my definition of dress shoes, but at least you aren’t running around barefoot. I respect it.”

“Thanks,” he grinned, wiggling his feet in the air slightly, “they’re my lucky pair, haven’t failed me yet.”

“You know, you could use a magic eraser or something to get those dirt stains off from them.”

“Why would I do that? These stains are memories,” he pointed to a slightly purple spot. “This is when R- an old friend accidentally ran into trouble with some nasty things.” He pointed to a small grass stain, “this is when I was running with Martha.”

He had a fond smile on his face as he started to tell you stories about his adventures with his friends. There was Martha, the brilliant doctor (also a doctor, interesting) that almost matched his intelligence. Then there was Sarah Jane, a gifted journalist with a knack for discovering and defending the truth. K-9. Romanas I and II. Peri. Grace. Susan. Kamelion. It was as if this man had lived several lifetimes.

“It sounds like someone’s lived quite the life,” you mused when the conversation fizzled out.

“I have,” he nodded, an almost hidden wistfulness in his tone. “Now what about you? I feel like I’ve been hogging the conversation.”

“No, you’re fine; I liked hearing about your friends. As for me, well my life’s just not important.”

“Not important,” he scoffed. “Impossible. I’ve never met anybody who’s life wasn’t important. Everybody has a story, what’s yours?”

You were silent for a moment before you took a deep breath. What’s one more hour of conversation? It wasn’t like you had any time constraints. You diverged into sharing some aspects of your life, just the small things that wouldn’t normally make any normal person bat an eye at.

But the Doctor wasn’t a normal person.

You didn’t mean that in a negative way, no far from it. He actually was invested in what you had to say, not just politely nodding along. He asked you questions about what you were talking about, subtly pushing you to elaborate further. Soon enough you both were laughing like you were old friends catching up with each other. If anybody drove past you both, they probably would have thought you both were insane.

“You actually did that?” He asked incredulously through his snickering.

“Yes, I was a gullible kid. Not my fault that I’d do anything for a quarter and a cool looking rock,” you smiled and leaned your head against the metal bar behind you. “Everyone thought I was going to become a geologist when I got older with how much I’d hoard rocks in my room like there was no tomorrow. Made Mum cross with me for bringing dirty things into the house, but she never found the stash I had in the basement. I actually think that they’re still there, hidden in a box collecting dust.” You sighed and tightened your grip on the bars, “there’s no appeal in rocks when you grow up and see that the little sparkles and colors in them are just… imperfections that should be ignored.”

“The little imperfections I see in rocks,” he began, pinching a small bit of loose concrete between his pointer finger and thumb and brought it up to his face to examine it. “Are the things I refuse to ignore. They’re charming and separate it from being just a hunk of slate you find in a rock garden.”

“I feel like that’s some sort of analogy.”

“That… wasn’t what I was intending, but I do suppose that it could be one.” He turned to squint at you, placing the rock back onto the ledge next to his thigh. You squinted back at him, wondering what was going through his head. A smile ghosted across his face before he laughed to himself.

“What?” You asked him.

“Nothing,” he chuckled, “it’s just that we’ve talked all night.” He jutted his chin towards the sun rising over the horizon casting oranges and pinks onto the water in place of the moonlight that resided there previously.

“We have,” you said in surprise. The sun’s rays warmed you slightly, but you didn’t want to move away from the shelter of the trench coat. It gave you a strange sense of comfort. You both watched the sun rise out of the ocean and take its place high in the sky. Traffic started to bustle as people started their morning commute to work, some craning their necks in their cars as they drove by to look at you and the Doctor. None stopped to talk to you.

“Say, (N/n),” he started.

“(N/n)?” You asked as the corners of your lips quirked upwards. The nickname made you feel warm inside, it felt nice.

“Yes, (N/n); I think it suits you well. Anyways (N/n), if you were to choose a time and place in all of time and space, where would you like to visit the most?”

“Anywhere? Like, even on a planet trillions of light years from Earth?” You asked him, watching him nod curtly. “Yes, but there are some rules. You can’t interact with your past self or change a point that was destined to happen. Wars, deaths, births, things like that.”

“Ah, so the general movie rules of time travel?” He grumbled to himself (something along the lines of ‘those are wildly inaccurate’) before he nodded once more.

After a bit of contemplation, you supplied him with your answer. A spark in his eye appeared, similar to the spark he got when he talked about his friends but slightly different. He slowly got up and stretched his lanky limbs out, cracks coming from the joints and small groans leaving him whenever the stretch was apparently good.

He looked down at you and, with a grin, extended his hand to you. “(Y/n), would you like to come with me? See that place you wanted to see?”

You found yourself staring at his hand for the second time that night. Thoughts of stranger danger circulated through your mind before you realized that if he wanted to harm you in any way, he would have done it by now. He wouldn’t have talked to you for hours on end, making you feel like you had a small sliver of yourself back again.

Why not? One little detour couldn’t hurt; you had a good feeling about going along with him.

You grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull you up to a standing position. He gave you a small lift so that you could hop over the barrier before he catapulted his body over it. With an arm wrapped around your shoulders, he led you away from the bridge. You both got strange looks from the people driving past, but you managed to ignore it when you burrowed yourself deeper into the trench coat and he brought you closer to him. He led you to an old navy blue police box, much to your confusion.

“Well, Mx…”

“(L/n),” you supplied.

“Well, Mx. (L/n), welcome to the TARDIS.”

One trip turned to two. Then three. Then four. Then several more. It became normal to come home from work to see the man waiting for you comfortably in your small apartment, brightening up whenever you walked through the door and asking you excitedly about what you had in mind for your next adventure.

Soon enough, the voice became something that would only come to you on your bad days, becoming largely dormant in your mind. Whenever you had a bad day, you finally had someone to confide in. Someone that wouldn’t judge you, someone that wouldn’t tell you that you were being overly dramatic.

The Doctor was different from the normal person; he was the Doctor and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

#10 x reader #10th doctor x reader #the doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #tenth doctor x reader #doctor who reader insert #gender neutral reader #suicidal reader #hellion writes doctor who

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honeyhenry · 3 years

Text

Captain Confusion

A/N: Inspired by this video that makes me weep with its cuteness! I just had to write this okay 🥺🥺🥺 This is in the same universe as Homeward Bound, which happens after this story. Feel free to give it a read after this, if you haven’t already! ALSO should note that the lovely @ohmygoodie is my Sy partner in crime and without them this fic would not be made possible :)

Warning: mention of operations/hospitals, and a whole lot of fluff!

It was a simple procedure and so it hadn't worried you too much, other than the usual fears when a loved one is under the knife while in the hands of trained doctors. Sy’s hernia had been authorised for operation only five minutes into the doctor’s appointment you had all but dragged him to, and scheduled for 4 days later. Not really much time to prepare mentally, but you knew it was necessary with your big bear of a man in pain. Despite the painkillers prescribed, he was walking with a limp and groaning in bed for all the wrong reasons.

In the waiting room, you and his Ma kept busy during the 45 minute wait by looking through magazines, talking about how the Captain’s quality of life will improve, and what kind of minor jobs you’ll have him do around the house while he’s recovering as you continue to work.

“I hope the recovery isn’t as long as some people have said. I know for a fact he’ll not want to be cooped up all day. If he’s anything, he’s stubborn” you sigh, knowingly.

Ma smiles, looking at you pointedly, knowing that she is in the presence of the only other soul who knows what is best for her son. “He knows better now that his health is his wealth. He’s got a lot more riding on being well now. After all, it’s not just him he’s gotta be there for anymore.”

“Yeah, I mean I always tell him, he’s not 25 anymore. Or even 30. I’ll need you to back me up, he does anything you say. I’m his equal, you’re his Mom.”

You both laugh a little, hers warm and kind, while yours tinges with the remaining hopeful nerves of an army Captain’s wife. You don’t like not knowing about your Sy, especially since you spent all those years apart, not knowing if he was safe, or even alive. The waiting, in any capacity, is the hardest part.

You’re flipping through a random tabloid magazine, when the surgeon in charge walks through to the waiting room.

“Everything went really well with Captain Syverson. He’s coming to from the anaesthetic and asking for his Ma?”

Ma grins before sucking her teeth between her lips watching as your mouth drops. You both move from the waiting area to follow the surgeon towards where your husband is resting. You speak under your breath, only wanting Sy’s Ma to hear you; “I hope he still remembers how to grovel after this.”

Ma enters the room with you following her, arriving only a couple more corridors along from where you’d last seen him earlier that morning. He may not have asked for you but you were going to see Sy whether he wanted it or not. A grand push of the door allows it to swing open, and suddenly there he is. A little disoriented but has a large dopey smile plastered on his face as soon as he sees his Ma. His heavy head lolls to one side as he rests it on the plush hospital pillow.

“Hey Ma” he groans out as she bends over her large son to give his forehead a kiss, taking his hand in hers. He spends a moment just gazing at her for a while, the love he has for her evident on his face, as she tells him that everything went well, and that he can go home tomorrow.

It’s only after this tender mother and son moment, that he notices you.

“Ma.... why ya bringing a beautiful girl here when I’m like this...oh god I’m not wearing underwear Ma!”

His feeble attempt at trying to cover himself means that you actually end up seeing far more of him than you expected. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, but it definitely hasn't happened in front of his own mother before. The whole situation makes you blush and giggle a little as you try your best to avoid eye contact with Ma. You can only imagine the look on her face, and you don’t want to get any more involved with Sy’s naked form than you need to right now.

Rather than put you and your poor Sy through any further embarrassment, Ma speaks up.

“Oh darlin’, this is y/n. You remember her, right?”

And while he’s listening - or at least pretending to listen to his Ma fussing over him again - he’s just staring at you, gazing in awe as if you were the one to hang the stars in the sky.

“You are.... so pretty” he slurs, making you break out a genuine smile that he mirrors, glad that he was the one to make you look even more pretty.

“Well thanks handsome. How do you feel?” you perch on the edge of the bed and hold his hand. To him, the gesture feels warm and inviting - even if he doesn't know you, he recognises something about you in the comfort that you bring.

“Feel like shit. Oh fuck i said ‘shit’ in front of the lady” he whines again, scrunching his eyes closed as hangs his head in shame. It looks like he might even cry with the realisation that he’s made such a foolish impression of himself. It takes Ma shushing him and making him take a sip of juice from his bedside to calm down, dabbing his face with a cloth when his juice spills from his mouth.

“Oh Logan Daniel Syverson...what did they do to ya?” she lightly scolds as she helps clean up the mess he’s unknowingly created around him. That’s your Sy, a hurricane of mess that somehow fits into order just how he likes it.

You giggle a little more at his shameful expression, before he refocuses, giving you his undivided attention once more.

“How is it that ya know my Ma and we’ve never met? Or have we? ‘Cause I think i’d remember a face like yours”

“Well...” you start, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to let him see your entire face, hoping it would jog his memory. As you do so, the ring on your fourth finger glints in the hospital light, and for the first time since you've entered the room, he’s noticed.

“Oh...man...knew a girl like you would be snatched up already. Whoever has the honour of being yours is a very lucky man.” He smiles softly, a wistful look in his eye, while makes you realise that you can’t wait for the drugs to leave his system, you have to remind him who you are and who he is, right this very moment.

“Sy honey... we’re married. You’re my husband, and I’m your wife. I think the drugs are making you more than a bit loopy.”

It’s his turn for his jaw to drop, his eyes are unblinking as he takes in what you’ve just said. He turns sharply - more than his doctor would have probably liked - to his Ma, and then back to you, and then his Ma again, waiting for one of you to burst out laughing at the prank you surely must be playing on him.

“Wha-? A wife? I have a wife?” you nod and he exhales a deep breath of air in amazement.

“YOU’RE my wife? Really?” you nod again and Ma smiles at you as she watches the scene of Logan meeting you all over again.

“Am I still in the army? I’m a Captain ya know”

“You left just a few months ago. You still work in the local camps, of course. You like it there, and you’re home every night and most weekends.”

“Does Ma like you?” You don’t even get a chance to finish as he turns to his mother “Do you like her? is she nice? Does she like your new kitchen? I built it y’know.”

You knew when you met, dated, and married him, that Sy was a Momma’s boy. He loves his mother so much, that her opinion will always mean the world to him.

Ma nods “You two are the sweetest couple. She’s the best addition to the family, gives you a run for your money alright. She’s my new favourite.” You get a soft hug from her as she says this, with her wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. She’s always felt so grateful that her Logan found you, because my goodness did he love you ferociously, and he needed you in his life. You were the making of him, and the whole Syverson clan will forever be grateful to you for it.

"And where did we get married? If we really are married.” He continues his line of questioning.

“At the ranch, on your family’s land. it was such a special day. We had the reception there too. And we went to Italy for our honeymoon.”

Sy is basking in every word you say, praying it to be true, as if he could will it into existence if it hadn’t already happened, wanting badly to remember sunset kisses and italian food and beach days all spent with you. He perks up at the last thing you say, taken by complete surprise.

“Honeymoon?! Oh my god have we...ya know..?” A blush fades over Sy’s face, and even though you love his Ma, you really wish she wasn’t finding out so many details about your personal life today, like how your son rails you on the regular in many ways, and in many places. He must somehow remember or at least accurately imagine your past endeavours, as he grins like a little shit.

You smack his arm, lightly but with a firm hand.

“Be quiet, or the whole ward will know about our sex life” you threaten. “Yes we’ve had sex. i’d hope so given that we have a kid on the way.”

If Ma had had to deal with her son getting horny over his “new”wife, she was being fully compensated for it as she witnessed him fall head over heels in love with you, all over again.

“A kid?...Tell me ya not messing with me...are we really- I-” he swallows and his tears come even easier than before “We’re havin’ a baby?” With the sudden realisation, he turns to his Ma. “This beautiful woman right here’s havin’ my kid, Ma?” He looks between the two of you again, watching as you both nod and beam from ear to ear.

“You know you cried just as much when i told you for the first time too. i promise when the drugs are out your system it’ll all make sense again.”

Sy smiles, clutching your hand in his warm palm, almost scared to let go as the door is knocked and he feels you might be taken away. Instead, it’s a welcome visitor.

“Hey doc,” Sy greets the man who reenters the room, now freshly out of scrubs to visit his patient - who if anything is now simply love sick, no hernia to be found. “This is my wife, and she’s having a baby.” he looks back to you with a quirk of his eyebrow “My baby?” You roll your eyes and he confirms it; “my baby.”

“Oh, congratulations...again.”

The doctor’s evaluation and explanations don’t take long, and while Sy is being informed, you start rubbing your belly as a form of self-comfort. You will need to remind your child that while their father looks incredibly stern and impossibly large, he is silly and goofy and already loves them with his entire being. Over the course of the afternoon, Sy talks with you while the anaesthetic wears off. It turns out they had given him a pretty high dosage based on his height and muscle mass, so he would be out of action for a couple of hours at least.

“Oh, i have your ring” you pipe up before he starts getting too sleepy again, taking the thick gold band off of the necklace around your neck, placing it on his finger carefully.

“That feels better already” he sighs, as he begins to doze in and out of consciousness. Before he closes his eyes once more to rest peacefully, a small tear slides down his cheek, which you of course, notice. Sy has cried maybe 5 times in the time you’ve known him and three of those times have been in this very room.

“Honey what’s wrong? Are you in pain? i can call the doctor-”

“No i’m fine i’m fine i just-” he sniffs and tries to clear his throat from the sad, heavy pain he feels in his chest. “I’m gonna be real sad when I wake up from this dream. What if I can’t find you when I wake up?”

Oh your sweet, silly man.

“Bear it’s not a dream, I’ll be right here when you get up properly and we can go home and cuddle and I’ll heat up your favourite meal. I’ll be right there with you.”

“And the baby?” he asks, eyes wide. almost nervous to ask.

“Well they have to come too, they're with me. We can look at their pictures again so you can get reacquainted. And Aika will be so happy you’re back. We’ve been gone the whole day.”

“Aika!” your husband perks up, “Oh Aika, man....I love that dog..”

“I know you do bear, you just get some rest for now and then we can go home.”

Before you know it, he’s fallen back to sleep, his mouth wide open as he slumps against his pillow, completely out of it.

It’s dark outside when Sy opens his eyes again, watching as his Ma passes you a small herbal tea in the dimly lit hospital room. Technically visiting hours are over, but no one was going to argue with the Captain’s family. You smile, and he feels like he can finally relax, in your presence

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he growls lowly, and you look up at him from your phone, beaming in surprise, glad that your husband had woken up feeling a bit more like himself.

“Oh hello again” you smile and squeeze his hand, his slow blinking already indicating a much clearer mind, and that he knows exactly who you are.

“Again? What’d I miss?”

“The drugs” he stops you mid-sentence for a sweet kiss, acting as though a minute more without your lips would be the source of his downfall. “Mmmh, the drugs made you so loopy, it was the sweetest thing, Sy.” You grin as he pulls you up beside him on the bed.

He raises his eyebrows, clearly with no recollection of any of the past events. Yet still, he smiles.

“Yeah? How’s baby?” he holds you close to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist so he can cover your tummy with his palm.

“They’re great. Glad to have daddy back and sane.”

You swear that as you say that, he starts tearing up again, this time however he doesn’t let them fall. He was openly weeping earlier, but you won’t tell him that. Not yet.

“Damnit. Must be something in these drugs they got me on.”

“Mm-hmm sure bear.”

You stay close that evening, both curled up on a hospital bed that is already quite a tight fit for your husband alone. But as always, he makes it work. You’re half on top of him, both of you fast asleep, when the nurses come to do their rounds. Ma had left just after he had woken up, sneaking off into the night to let the rest of the family know how her most middle son is keeping after the operation. You’d cuddled and doted on each other until you’d fallen asleep, Sy following not long after as he bid goodnight to you and your precious cargo with a soft kiss to your lips, and protective rub of your stomach.

He counts himself more than lucky to have something so good, that it would pain him to forget. He was living the life that he’d been too scared to ever dream of, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

taglist: @ohmygoodie @michelehansel @la-cey @palaiasaurus64 @sassy-pelican @brandycranby

Masterlist

feedback / ask me a question here!!

#captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #dad!syverson #dad!sy #cavillary #my writing #syverson x reader

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fandom-monium · 3 years

Note

i finished for the holidays and i just *chefs kiss* beautiful talented amazing sajkgdkj no words i love that romance wasnt even the main point 🥺💘 anyway i love how you write reader and i wondered between her and spencer who gets jealous???

Unrivaled

Summary: In which you seem pretty close with the new intern, and Spencer is not happy about it. (ft. one of my fave white bois) “Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"

WC: 3.6k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, Jealous!Spencer bc id like to see that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, the lightest implication of smut ever, points to yall who can guess who the intern is before reading the end or the tags 😉

—

Spencer is not jealous. He’s not.

Why would he be?

He has no reason to be jealous, Spencer chants to himself as he sits at his desk. Even from across the bullpen he still manages to hear your voice, and while normally it’s music to his ears, even better than Mozart, now it just feels like nails against a chalkboard. Grating his eardrums, making him wince.

Because you’re laughing. Not with Spencer though. Not at his obscure references or lame jokes.

With the new intern.

Why did Emily have to put you in charge of him? She could’ve chosen anyone on the team to have him shadow, but it had to be you! Not that you’re incapable or unqualified; you’re experienced, talented, and the best person he knows.

… Okay, he can see why she picked you.

Why do they even have interns? Unnecessary, really, when the BAU has you and him and he guesses the other teams too (it’s weird, he’s never actually interacted with them but whatever). Maybe it’s time to start making budget cuts. He’ll discuss this with Emily when he gets the chance. He’s got some influence, working at the BAU as long as he has.

But he’s not jealous.

Logically, jealousy (like an intern) is unnecessary. The green-eyed monster (like an intern) is ugly and contributes nothing productive, and if Spencer’s being honest, the world (like an intern) would be much better off without it.

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself as he downs his coffee like a shot of whiskey, trying to quell the squirming beast in him. Despite 90% of it being sugar, it still tastes bitter. He sets his mug down with a thud, and it’s loud enough to make Luke, Garcia, and JJ turn their heads, exchanging concerned glances when he slumps back in his chair.

Spencer doesn’t care. The world’s ending; you’re apparently into younger guys, with neat dark hair and forearms that can probably snap someone’s neck, and he can’t do anything about it. What does it matter if his best friends catch him in a sour mood, right?

“Hey, Spence,” JJ's tone is soft as they slink over, Garcia and Luke leaning against the edge of his desk and JJ flanking the other side. “You alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer gazes past them, his eyes never leaving you. He deflates; your stance is relaxed, completely open as you nod at whatever Intern is saying, his hands gesturing spastically. It must be interesting, the way you listen with rapt attention and respond just as enthusiastic.

Spencer scoffs. Not like that’s anything special. You do the same for him. And the rest of the team.

...What the hell are you guys talking about?

“Well, you look like you’re about to throw your mug across the room. Or at an intern.”

Spencer blinks, finally breaking away from you long enough to eye the ceramic octopus. “That’s a good idea actually.”

“Don’t,” Garcia and JJ both shoot him a warning and he huffs, resting his chin in his hand. Garcia looks horrified, betrayed even while JJ has that expression on, the one she gives when she scolds Henry and Michael.

Whatever. It’s not like he’d ever sacrifice Mildred. Garcia entrusted her to him, after all.

Unless...?

No, he couldn’t… Maybe.

“You know, Reid, if you’re jealous—”

Spencer snaps his head to Garcia, eyes wide and darting to you like you have super-hearing, “Jealous? Who’s jealous? Not me.” He cringes, his voice octaves higher and cracking like a prepubescent boy.

Garcia snorts, “Okay, sure. But if you are jealous, I was going to say you have no reason to be. You wanna know why?” Spencer raises an eyebrow at her and she continues, “Sure the guy’s smart enough to get a full-ride scholarship at GWU, and he’s top of his class at the academy—”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

"And he’s one of the most good looking guys I've ever met—”

"How is that relevant—"

Luke frowns at her. "And have you met me?"

“My point is,” Garcia’s red lipstick curls into the most reassuring smile, “that you have nothing to worry about because (Your Name) loves you. A lot.”

Spencer perks up. “You really think so?”

“I know so. I see the way they look at you, and if that’s not love I don’t know what is," She shrugs, "And just because they’re talking doesn’t mean they’re into him.”

There's a collective nod of agreement and Spencer sags in relief. Of course they're right. He knows they are.

If you think about it, technically, he's got the advantage. You've known each other longer, bonded and shared experiences together good and bad, and you’re emotionally and even physically intimate with each other (something he's especially proud of, considering how long it takes you both to warm up to others).

And who knows? This is probably temporary! Whatever this is, the connection you seem to instantly make with Intern (faster than when you two had met, he realizes with a needle to his heart) is short-term at best. It'll peter out eventually, like most friendships do.

It’s sad, but a cruel fact of life.

(Is this selfish, wishful thinking? Nah.)

They’re right, there is no need to worry, Spencer thinks as a weight lifts off his chest, finally able to breathe. You love him and he loves you and eventually, everything will go back to normal.

There’s nothing to worry about.

—

The world’s ending.

“It’s really not.”

Yes, it is.

“Doc, come on.”

“Do not ‘Doc’ me,” Spencer grumbles, lifting his head from the comfort of his arms. He grimaces at Luke. “You didn’t see the way they looked at him. The way they talk about him.”

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since you’ve taken Intern under your wing, and he’s had enough. If Hell is real, this is it. For days, he’s tried to resume some form of normalcy, and he was never one to be bold but desperate times call for desperate measures as he asks you out for lunch or invites you out on dates, even stuff he wouldn’t normally do because they’re more your thing. Something, anything to get you away from Intern. But...

At work: “Hey Spence, I'm teaching Intern (menial task that a 4 year old could do). Would you like to help—”

During break: “I’m taking Intern out for lunch. He’s still new to town, and I thought he could use a tour—”

In bed: “Did you know Intern’s a huge fan of Star Wars—”

Snap, and there went his patience.

Intern this, Intern that.

Spencer could tolerate this at work. At least he’s saving lives, being productive, getting paid. But under his roof? In his bed?

That was the last straw.

Spencer's not one to wish ill on another, he's not like that. But if something happened to the guy, say, get injured in the field, perhaps from a "stray" bullet, he'd be intern-ally grateful. Heh.

"Hey, you good?"

Spencer sighs, swiping a hand over his face and turning back to Luke. "Yeah, why?"

Luke waves a hand at his face, eyebrow raised, "For a second there, you kind of had a scary look on your face."

"Did I? Weird."

"Right," Clearly unconvinced, Luke brushes it off, deciding to get to the root of the matter. "As I was saying, I still think you have nothing to worry about. Although, I do think it's a little weird that (Your Name) is talking about Intern as much as you say they are." He offers Spencer a little smile, his hand falling heavy on his shoulder. It's the most comforting touch he's had in two weeks. "I'm not one to talk, but I suggest you speak to them. I'd also be uncomfortable if my partner were talking up someone else."

Spencer blinks, squints at Luke, before gripping his hand and standing up. "Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"

"You can stand to mention it more often," Luke shrugs, eyes crinkling with amusement as Spencer lets go and heads for the door.

"Noted."

—

Spencer nearly goes feral when he finds you.

Of course you're with him.

He searched the floor like a bloodhound, discovering you've been on your feet almost the entire day, running around the office, up and down the elevators, finishing your work and helping around. You must be exhausted. It's because of this he tracks you to your favorite break room, mostly quiet save for the buzzing drip of the old coffeemaker. He knows you need to be alone sometimes, recharge those social batteries.

So when he bursts into the room like he would hunting an unsub, eyes quickly scanning the immediate space, he expects nothing less but you. What he did not anticipate was to find you, just as soft and pretty as ever under the fluorescent lighting, leaning against the counter and sipping daintily at your favorite mug.

With Intern standing a little too close to his liking.

“Hey, Spencer,” You chirp as you lower your coffee mug, lips glossy from your drink. Spencer's quick to shake his stupor―he can’t afford to be distracted, but it’s difficult when you’re beaming at him, clearly excited. You nod at the home-wrecker, “Me and Intern here were just talking about demonology and he’s got this interesting theory on werewolves―" Lycanthropy? Are you fucking kidding him right now?

Just when he thought he couldn't hate the guy any more.

"CanItalktoyou?" It comes out rushed as Spencer gasps between breaths, leaving no room to second guess himself.

"Sure," You blink at his urgent tone.

For a second, you watch him expectantly, and Spencer's gaze darts between you and Intern. "Alone?"

"Oh! Okay. Be gone," You wave Intern off, and when you place a hand on his shoulder, Spencer sees red. Or green in this case.

Intern doesn't resist, but the noise Spencer releases is animalistic because the guy can’t seem to read the room, questioning you as you gently shove him towards the door. "What about the thing―"

"We'll talk about that later."

"But you still need to show me how to―"

"Don't worry, Intern. Just wait for me, I'll show you once the adults are done talking."

"You know at some point you're gonna have to call me by my name."

"Nah. If we get to call Luke a newbie, we get to call you Intern. Also I do not know how to say your first name."

"You could just call me St―"

Enough of this. Spencer closes the last stretch of distance, batting your hand away from Intern’s shoulders as he kicks him out himself, slamming the door in his face. Spencer turns on his heel to face you, caging you both. “You―” He pants, chest heaving for air.

“Me?”

“You-him-we―”

You’re unfazed, simply nodding at him and his odd behavior. If anything, you’re enjoying this as your lips twitch in a poor attempt to withhold your amusement, trying to cover it with a slurp of your cup. Then again, it’s not everyday you get to see Spencer, face flushed from exertion, speechless as he gasps for breath.

(At least not at work… In the break room specifically.)

It takes a minute as Spencer swallows a few times, but his heart’s erratic and it’s not just from running through the entire building. When he’s got enough air, he blurts out, “Did I do something?”

Your brow shoots up. “What?”

“Did I forget something important? Upset you in some way?”

“No? I don’t think so?” You frown at him, your answers more like questions.

It only spurs him on, and though his tone is frantic and his eyes just as wild as his hair, you’re more intrigued than frightened. Definitely confused.

“Okay, but you know I love you, right?”

“Yes and I love you too but Spence, what’s this about?" Setting down your mug, you look at him like he's grown another head.

Spencer sighs, "I just… you…" He frowns, glancing between you, the floor, and the empty space between you.

Spencer Reid is a man of words. Many, many words, according to all his friends and his coworkers. Mainly knowledge―he's never been great with feelings―but as you gaze at him, patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts, he wants to melt into the floor. There's not a hint of annoyance on your features, your eyes warm and inviting.

He's so in love with you.

Then like scripture the words come, natural without much stuttering or hesitancy. He recounts the last two weeks. The internship so far, the times you've left Spencer behind for him, the times you just talked about him, like the guy (practically a stranger) is your new best friend. Usually, pretty people make him tongue-tied and you do―god, you do―but at the same time only you make it so easy. Talking, expressing without fear of―

"Pfft―"

―Judgement. Pausing mid-sentence, Spencer gawks as your nose twitches and your blink rate increases. You purse your lips, a hand slapped over your mouth as it threatens to break out into a grin.

"Are you-are you laughing right now?" When he just poured his feelings out to you?

That does it. You keel over, peels of laughter coming like a tsunami, crashing into him and Spencer loves your laugh but not when it's at him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing," you wheeze, gripping your stomach. Spencer pouts. There's even tears in your eyes. "But you're telling me this is all because you're jealous?"

He stutters, "Well-I-no-It’s just…" He wants to say ‘you're mine’, but as your eyes crinkle he knows there’s no need.

"That's kinda hot."

"Wha-really?" Wide-eyed, Spencer squeaks as you step closer to him, backing him into the door. His hands come up to his chest in a kitten-like manner yet at the same time protective―you'd never hurt him and you both know that―but you admit your initial reaction was poor when he laid his feelings bare.

“Ahhhh Babe, you know there’s no one else for me but you.” Spencer blushes and you chuckle, taking his hands in yours. He let's you. “Also, as adorable as Intern is, one, I think I’d be able to tell if he was hitting on me, and two, he’s not really my type.”

Spencer swallows, “And what exactly is your type?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Looking him up and down, you step closer, enough that your breath puffs against his chin. You smell like cheap coffee. “Tall, handsome doctors with messy, brown hair―” You lightly tug at one of his stray curls and he bites back a smile.

“―and a cute nose―” Your hand moves to cup his cheek, bringing him down to peck the tip of his nose. It scrunches as Spencer breaks out into giggles.

“―Who can recite classic literature. Who can bake like he belongs on The Great British Baking Show but can’t cook for shi―”

“Okay! Thank you, I get it,” Spencer says, almost completely relaxed now.

“Good,” You nod with finality. “And for your information, I wasn’t trying to make you jealous."

He raises an eyebrow. "So you just abandoned me and talked about another guy for the hell of it?"

Spencer's tone is casual, joking even but you know better. There's underlying bitterness and hurt and your heart squeezes because you did that. "No, of course not. There is a reason behind all that.“

“What could possibly excuse you going above and beyond your job as a mentor―”

“I was trying to set you guys up.”

Spencer deadpans. “Set me up? With him?” Oh god, he knows you’re weird, but he’s never considered you to be outright insane (is it weird he still loves you?).

As if reading his thoughts, you roll your eyes, “Spencer, how many friends do you have outside the team?”

“Not a lot.” No hesitation, but he accepted the fact a long time ago.

“Yeah and that’s okay. But if you’d talk to Intern, you’ll find you two have a lot in common. I know he’s younger than us, but he’s a good kid, real smart,” You give him a meaningful look and shrug, “Not like IQ 187 smart but he could definitely hold a conversation with you.”

Spencer murmurs, pulling you in so you're chest to chest, “This entire time, you were really trying to make us friends?”

You nod, your expression a mix of giddiness and hope that makes whatever feelings he felt before, the confusion and―yes, fine―the jealousy, dissolve like sugar in water. Spencer sinks into you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your soap. Of course you had good intentions. Of course you wanted to do something nice for him.

Fuck, he loves you.

“So… we good?”

Spencer huffs, “I hope you realize how much I suffered the past few weeks.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then yes, we’re good,” He mumbles into your shoulder, “I appreciate what you were trying to do.”

“And?”

His brow furrows and he pulls back, meeting your eyes. “And what?”

“Will you try to be friends?” You look at him expectantly.

Spencer opens his mouth to answer, a definitive no on his tongue, but then you’re giving him puppy-dog eyes and before he realizes it, “Okay.”

Wait, no. That is not what he meant to say.

“Yeah!” You throw your arms around him, and Spencer can’t stop you, grunting as you basically swing him around like a rag doll. But he finds he doesn’t care when you set him back down because you’re happy, happy for him, grinning ear to ear as you babble, “I can already tell you two are gonna be the best of friends! You guys have so much to talk about, all that nerdy stuff. Maybe even debate! And we could play chess and―”

There’s a knock and you both turn, a voice muffled by the door, “Hey, guys? I don’t want to interrupt in case you’re boning, but you didn’t exactly tell me where to wait for you? God, I hope you guys aren’t boning. Please tell me you’re not boning right now.”

You groan, “No Intern, we’re not boning! Right-uh-go ahead and meet me back at the office, I’ll be right with you.” You turn back to Spencer, sending him an apologetic look. “I will see you later, okay? And since you’ve been such a patient and understanding partner,” You plant him one last kiss before patting his cheek, and his eyes widen as your voice lowers in the way you know drives him crazy, your eyes glinting with mischief, “I’ll make it up to once we get home. Bye, love you!”

Before Spencer can fully register your words, you're out the door, cackling as you leave him to compose himself, his face beet red from running the possibilities. By the time he emerges from the break room, you’re long gone.

“Hi, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer almost snarls, cursing under his breath. Just when he thought the day was getting better. He turns back.

Intern stands tall, relaxed and shoulders back, black tie loose and cheap white-collar button up slightly wrinkled. No doubt from working hard and following your instructions throughout the day. Spencer respects the work ethic at least. Meanwhile, the younger man eyes him, and he’s certain it’s not from intimidation but with curiosity.

Spencer doesn’t linger on that. He’s used to it, not being intimidating to others.

He continues, “It’s nice to finally talk to you, one on one I mean. I’m a fan of your work. Seven degrees, huh?”

“Yeah,” Spencer says curtly. Recalling the earlier conversation with you, he stamps down his irritation and tries to extend an olive branch. “How did you know?”

“It’s the internet, sir,” Intern raises an eyebrow, offering an innocent smile.

“Right,” Spencer returns it with an awkward one of his own, “Hey, sorry for... literally kicking you out before. That was completely unprofessional.”

Intern waves him off, “No, it’s cool. I totally get it. I’m flattered, by the way.”

Spencer frowns. “Flattered?”

“Well, it’s not everyday you find out your superior’s jealous of you.”

Spencer blinks, and it takes all his experience as a profiler to mask his embarrassment. “You heard that.”

“The FBI’s got thin walls,” Intern shrugs and steps towards him. “Although I have to say, Agent (Your Last Name) is wrong about one thing.” Stopping short in front of him, for the first time Spencer is close enough to note the moles dotting his face. “They can’t tell that I’m flirting with them.”

He starts down the hall after you, and Spencer’s eyes trail after him as his brow furrows, until realization slams into him and his jaw drops. “Wait, you...”

“Oh and since (Your Last Name) wants us to be friends, I think we could be on a first-name basis,” He pauses to look back at Spencer, watching with a crooked smile as the older man sputters.

“So, you can call me Stiles, sir.”

Then once again, Spencer is left behind, frozen in the hallway as he processes what just happened.

And the next time he finds you and Special Agent Stilinski in the same room, whether it’s crowded or not, Spencer does not hesitate to cling to your side, putting as much distance between the intern and you as he can. Spencer’s grateful you don’t question it.

There may not be anyone else for you, but that doesn’t mean no one will try.

―

AN: ahhhhh thanks anon!! There was a similar request then i saw this tiktok (and listened to this tiktok the entire time) and i combined them. Id also like to emphasize that my version of reader is neutral across the board, race, gender, etc.

Yes, i have a type. No, i will not be taking criticism.

Been hella overwhelmed with classes and work so here’s my way of destressing. Also suggest checking those tiktoks if you wanna understand me :))) also you mean to tell me i have to write the threesome myself?? Bs tbh 😔

watched 15x4 and i was so sad when Spencer addressed Luke as his coworker like no bitch hes your new bro stfu

and i have no doubt that stiles and spencer would be one of the best crossover duos given the chance

#spencer reid x reader #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #mgg fanfiction #mgg imagine #mgg x y/n #matthew gray gubler x oc #matthew gray gubler imagine #mgg fic #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Question and Answer

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Garcia gets Reader to answer some questions about their feelings for Spencer.

A/N: Hey heyyyy- here’s the twelfth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April! Oh my gosh 😱 can’t believe how many I’ve posted in a row already- thanks for all the love on them 🥰 This fic is based on this request- Writing Penelope along with Derek as side characters is one of my favorite things about some of my fluffy pieces! Feel free to leave something in my inbox here- I love hearing from all of you! (I promise I don’t bite lol) Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Non at all☺️- though if you see something you think should carry a warning please let me know 😌

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.8k

When Penelope Garcia got you alone in her office she lovingly called her‘bat cave’ and said she wanted to ‘talk’ there was no escaping it. ‘Talking’ with her usually meant she was going to bombard you with questions, usually linked to some gossip she heard from someone.

It was usually Morgan that fed her curiosity. He was somehow able to be up to date on everything and everyone. A result of that was that Garcia always got to hear the latest thing he had heard. Once Garcia was interested in whatever your answer to the gossip might be, she was without a doubt going to ask.

That’s where you found yourself on one of the slowest work days in recent memory. It had been so slow in fact, that you had been almost about to leave early since you had finished your paperwork. That was until Garcia had called your name in a singsong tone, grasped your elbow delicately with her painted nails, and gently nudged you to come talk with her in the ‘bat cave’.

“Penelope- I really want to go home. Can’t this wait another day?” Your groan perhaps was a bit pathetic as you sat down in a chair, but it had been the first time seemingly in years that you had the chance to go home early. A nap sounded really nice right now and even though you loved Garcia, that was more exciting at the moment.

“Fine fine, yes I’ll let you go soon, quit your bellyaching. And, to answer your other question, no, it can’t wait,” She plopped down into her chair, tapped on her keyboard a few times to close out some files, and then focused all her attention on you, “Just quickly answer my questions- Wait, no! Actually, let’s play a game!”

Another groan, perhaps even more pathetic than the first came out of your chest, while you also let yourself slump down in your chair. Thoughts of your bed danced in your head trying to pull you into a daydream about the nap you had been planning on taking. You then tried as best as you could to keep your focus trained on her for as long as possible. If you were able to focus; it would get done faster.

“Oh hush it’s a quick game that’ll have you out of here faster.” You perked up at that, now suddenly invested in the game that was supposedly going to get you out of here quick.

“Alright- I’ll do it if it gets me out of here quickly.”

She beamed at you for a second, then grabbing one of her decorative pens and a stack of sticky notes. Rapidly she wrote down a list that you tried to peek and see, but she hid the stack with her free hand once she saw you trying to look. Once she had finished she pushed up her glasses a bit, before outlying the rules of the ‘game’, “I want you to answer my rapid fire questions and answer without thinking! It’s supposed to give the most truthful answer from what I read on the website.”

Truthfully, it sounded silly to you, but if it got this interrogation over quick you didn’t mind playing the game. Plus whenever Garcia gave you time to answer she watched whatever your body language was and used that against you to get more information out. She had picked up on how we did our job as profilers over the years. It had become almost as instinctive to her as it was to us whenever we read behavior. Any conversation we had was screaming non verbal behavioral tells at us; it was almost impossible to turn off. So with less time in between questions and answers, it would be harder for her to analyze your movements. Garcia could honestly probably take the classes to become a profiler just as JJ had done, but everyone knew her place was in front of her screen. That was where she worked her best magic.

As soon as you nodded your head, agreeing to start the game, the questions were dropped on you at a rapid pace. The questions had started out simple enough, to get you ready for whatever bombshell question she no doubt had coming. The whole goal of the game was to catch you off guard so you’d answer as honestly as possible.

“What’s better coffee or tea?” She still hadn’t dropped the bomb and asked the question that had the only useful answer to her.

These questions were easy and you were getting comfortable. Each time another question went by the lingering reminder in the back of your head trying to warn you to be on edge slowly slipped away. Mindlessly you answered her without thought, “Coffee.”

“Who’s your favorite superhero?”

“Batman.” That answer might have been biased, when you really thought hard about it. You changed your answer when you realized you chose Batman because you were in Garcia’s ‘bat cave’, “Wait no- scratch that it’s Spider man.”

“If you could be any animal what would it be?”

“A dog.”

“What is your biggest fear?”

Again, you answered without thought even though it was a harder hitting question compared to your favorite drink or what type of animal you would be,“Being alone.”

“Who would you kiss in the office?” By now you had felt comfortable in the short little game, not even realizing how the questions had shifted to what she had been looking for all along.

“Spencer.” As soon as it came out of your mouth you slapped your hand over it. It was no use, the admission had already escaped and made its way into Garcia’s ear.

“Do you like Spencer?!” You opened your mouth in protest, but the look on your face said it all. Garcia knew she had won when you hang your head down with a sigh, in defeat. “Oh! Morgan was right!”

A little squeak by the door of the bat cave then pulled you out of your embarrassment and Garcia out of her celebration. You were already embarrassed before and it then turned into absolute mortification when you turned to see the source of the noise. Spencer was standing there, slack jawed, holding a file he had meant to give Garcia.

His voice then came out with more stutters and pauses than you had ever heard before from him, “H-hey ggguuys ummm I’ve got to go- take a nap.”

You almost wanted to snort thinking that you’d like to take that nap you’d been planning on too. Garcia went to say something, possibly to break the tension or make it even worse, but he was already gone. He bolted out the door and probably all the way home before you had a chance to explain your answer to the question that just led to even more questions.

—-

As soon as you were finally freed from Garcia’s clutches you bolted as well. Except instead of going straight home to your comfy bed you had been daydreaming about you bolted to someone else’s apartment.

“Hi, Doc.” Was the first thing you squeaked out when Spencer had opened up the door to his apartment after your polite yet incessant knocks.

He blinked at you a few times, perhaps trying to convince himself that you were really here. Clearing his throat he then replied shakily,“Hi.”

“C-can I come in?” It was your turn to stutter now, you wouldn’t lie and say you weren’t nervous about what his reaction might be. The only thing you were sure about is that he wouldn’t be outright disgusted by your feelings. You both had worked with each other for many years, becoming closer each day by day as time continued to tick by. At this point you’d call him your closest friend and you knew he wouldn’t call you disgusting for developing feelings for him. If he was going to let you down he would start by saying it’s only natural. Though, you still felt an ache in your chest even when assured that he’d at least let you down gently. Your relationship with him would be forever changed either way this conversation went.

He swung the door open more after a moment of trepidation, gesturing you through the door. You spent no time gazing around at his apartment, you had been here many times before. Instead you made a beeline for the couch, the comfiest spot to sit. You wanted to be at least comfortable if he was about to break your heart.

“C-can I ask you a question?” He fiddled with his fingers as you both sat down on his couch.

You brought your knees up to your chest as you had slipped your shoes off before sitting down. You also made sure to avert your gaze away from him, not sure if you could handle looking at him in the eyes, “What kind of question? Is it the same one as before?”

“N-no, um- well kinda… Yes and no?” The end of his jumbled sentence went up in pitch, making his own answer sound like another question.

You decided to give him a little mercy, doubting that there was any question he would ask that you would be uncomfortable with. And, you already had a feeling you knew what the question would be, “Alright Doc, I’ll let you ask your question. Go easy on me ok?”

Your little joke on the end was supposed to help him feel less nervous, but going by his awkward laugh it might have had the opposite effect. He still was able to get his next words out with a bit of confidence, “Was your answer back at work- umm honest?

Your heart fluttered at his question, beginning to beat harder in your chest as you prepared yourself to give him an honest reply. You were nervous to answer, even though you knew exactly what it was going to be deep down in your heart. Taking a deep breath you then answered the question with a simple answer, “Yes.”

He seemed relieved at your answer, relaxing his shoulders just enough that you noticed. You’d have to thank Garcia later, for finally getting you to answer the question honestly. Though, just by analyzing his behavior quickly you could tell that he still had something to say and/or ask, “Do you have another question?”

He nodded in response, his body language becoming even more closed off then before. His leg was now bouncing up and down as an attempt to soothe his building nerves. You then gave him what he had been looking for after his first question, permission to ask another, “You can ask another question, Doc.”

Tense silence sat between us for a few moments while I waited for him to speak up. He then got his courage back a little, though he still looked at the ground and fiddled with his fingers when he asked, “Would you like to go out on a date?”

It took no time to process the question, the answering instantly coming to the front of your mind. You then spoke with no trepidation, giving him a simple honest answer, “Yes.”

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (fill out this form to join any):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler fluff #30 fics in 30 days

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mirobami · 3 years

Note

Alright then, I suppose since tumblr has been eating the ask I sent you, I’ll send another! (It’s no problem really, I’m stubborn lol) Could do a request with Kirari and Rikari with an extremely charismatic & insanely intelligent/strategic Older sister Reader?

Like, OS!Reader is capable of outsmarting or tricking even the most experienced and brilliant players when it comes to gambling, though she only gambles oc a to take her mind off of her work as a CEO/President of hundreds of different companies.

When OS!Reader does gamble however, it’s a rush of pure adrenaline and flustered attraction for whoever her opponent is, that or overwhelming fear and tense anxiety. (It’s either one or the other, OS!Reader is truly sadistic when it comes to messing with people and loves to play around with her opponents emotions)

The worst (/best) part about gambling with OS!Reader is that despite her opponents never winning, she always seems to have them enraptured by the end of it. OS!Reader literally has an entire network of rival companies turned business partners due to the pure charm and charisma this woman somehow uses on people if she decides she likes how they take their defeat against her.

↳ no matter the cost

♥ GENRE: fluff, comfort.

♥ CHARACTER(S): k. momobami, r. momobami, (themes of) a. mibumi

♥ SYNOPSIS: ririka and kirari with their older sister coming back.

♥ WORD COUNT: 6890 words (I checked on Google Docs and that was 13 pages, holy shit--)

♥ NOTE: W O W this is such an incredible idea and I am SO EXCITED TO WRITE IT! I am going to use a couple of characters from Kakegurui Twin because it matches with the reader’s age range and for the purpose of the plot. It also got kind of long but that is perfectly okay, I liked writing it. Let’s get going!

“Ririka, Y/N’s coming back.” Kirari said once she opened the door to her twin sister’s room. The other girl whipped her head up from her book and almost threw it aside as she stood up. “When? When is she coming back and at what time? Should we pick her up at the airport?”

It came as no surprise that Ririka’s favorite sister was Y/N. Kirari couldn’t blame her, her favorite was also Y/N. They both were twins and they used it to their advantage, but Y/N had practically raised them, therefore she was the only one that could tell them apart when they were little. They came to count on her a lot and as the oldest sibling, Y/N always watched over them and put their needs before hers.

Now as they were older, they had come to appreciate her a lot more and it was also no surprise that she was extremely popular and famous. After all, she had sped through college immediately after graduation and another year after that, she had started her own conglomerate company. As she grew older, she became so much more intelligent, able to charm even the most firm people into the palm of her hand. The twins had always admired her for that, seeing as she could convince almost anyone to do anything. Y/N was only around 20 and she had been at their school when they were in their first year.

It was strange, they hadn’t heard from her in a while. It was obvious that she was super busy, hundreds of companies now under her name since she had started them from scratch and now they were all over the world, making her the richest woman in the world.

The twins had the date set on when Y/N would come back from her newest company somewhere in Canada. They had arrived at the airport, waiting for her to come out and usually, they were placid and nonchalant about everything. But this was their older sister. They had grown up with her and they’d be lying if they said they hadn’t missed her. After all, she was the one who had given them an actual childhood under her watch, albeit not even being their mother.

“There she is!” Kirari pointed at the woman walking with an air of elegance that clearly brought so many people’s eyes on her as if to ask who she was. Y/N looked up at the twins beaming down at her and she couldn’t suppress a smile as she quickly hurried to get to them.

Not caring about her bags, she pulled them both in for a hug and said, “Oh, you two, I missed you so much! Look how much you’ve grown!” Pulling back to look at them, she shook her head. “Wow, it’s so hard to believe that a few years ago you two were hiding behind me, you’ve grown so much!”

“Y/N, stop, you’re embarrassing us!” Kirari said, shaking her head with a smile.

“Ah, whatever, let’s get going. I’ve missed Ririka’s cinnamon rolls, how’s school?”

Ririka picked up one of her suitcases and Kirari took another one. Ririka spoke up. “Kirari’s still the president and I’m still vice president. There’s a new girl that has beaten most of the student council at gambling and from what can gather, Kirari’s her big target.”

“New girl, huh?” There was a glint in Y/N’s eye that the twins recognized. It was that look that was unrivaled by anyone else. No other look had ever given them more chills. It always meant that she had a plan in mind. Kirari had taken after Y/N with her own plan, but they never matched hers. The admiration was clear. “Wonder what it’d be like to gamble with her.”

“You don’t gamble much though, Y/N.” Kirari said. “Do you still have your touch?”

“Wow, how dare you, that’s a personal attack. Of course I have my touch! How else do you think I’ve gotten all of my companies all over the world? Not by pleading, that’s for sure.” Once they got into the car, Kirari gestured for the chauffeur to take them back home. Y/N sunk back against the seat and looked at them both. “I have a feeling someone’s gonna know I’m back.”

Ririka nodded and Kirari spoke up. “Aoi Mibumi?”

“Yeah. He’s a jerk, but he was always fun to play against.” She sighed and sat up, taking out a couple of bags from her own backpack. Tossing them to her sisters, she said, “I got you things from everywhere. But back to the other talk, if there’s something I can teach you two, it’s that charm and charisma get you everywhere. The amount of people I had at my heels and would do anything if I told them to after the gambles was no joke. Even my own rivals became my business partners with a simple wink behind the cards.” Looking out of the window, she smiled smugly. “Just remember that for the future. It’ll come in handy.”

Ririka was chewing on some candy and she smiled a bit at it. “We know. That’s practically how Kirari has gotten people under her thumb.”

“I’ve heard about the election, Kirari. I think it’s a bad idea but you know what you’re doing.” Looking at the youngest sister, Y/N studied her for a second before crossing her arms. “Make sure to capture everyone. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

“That’s the biggest lesson you’ve drilled into our heads, Y/N, I haven’t forgotten it, I promise.” Kirari reassured her.

Once they got back home, Y/N said, “I’ll go to your school on Monday, there are some teachers I want to say hi to. I just need to sleep, jet lag is something else.”

After she disappeared into her room, Ririka turned to Kirari. “Did you contact Mibumi?”

“Hmm, perhaps. He did have the biggest crush on her when she was in his year before she surpassed him quicker than anything. And I have a feeling that the reunion of the third years in her year will be something to look forward to.”

On Monday, Y/N was dressed in something formally casual as she followed Kirari and Ririka out the door. “You have your food right?”

Kirari shook her head. “You truly still act like our older sister, even with your job.”

“Just because I’m rich doesn’t mean I will not torture you by making sure you’re sleeping, drinking water and eating well.” Y/N stuck out her tongue at the twins, making them laugh as they got in the car. Y/N was scrolling through her phone before putting it to her ear. “Hold on, we��ll talk right now, I have to take this. Hello? What? Another one wants to buy the company? Tell him that it doesn’t matter how much he offers, he’s not going to be able to buy it. No, I don’t care if he threatens us. What will he file against us, tried arson? Remind him that one wrong step and I’ll let his wife know where he’s been going instead of his job. All right, thanks, you’re the best.” Clicking off, she looked at her sisters’ expressions. “What?”

Ririka tilted her head. “Do you still have people trying to buy your smaller companies?”

“Of course. It’s business, it’s very cutthroat, so you fight fire with water instead. Remember that water isn’t calm so obviously it’ll put the fire out soon. Ah, there’s Hyakkaou, I missed it a lot.”

They all got off and Ririka put her mask on. Y/N looked at her quizzically but didn’t say anything more. They started walking through the halls and the amount of murmurs coming from the students wasn’t ignored by Y/N.

“Wow, who is that?”

“Why is she with the president and the vice president?”

“She looks a bit similar to them. You think they’re related?”

“She’s hot, I wonder what her type is.”

“Definitely not you, that’s for sure.”

At the last sentence, Y/N had to suppress a laugh, passing it off as a cough. There was a scream of her name from the end of the hall and before she knew it, she was engulfed in a huge hug. Y/N beamed. “Yumi, good to see you again.” She hugged the blond back and pulling back. “Wow, you’ve also gotten taller! Terano, how are you?”

The brunette couldn’t stop a smile from coming across her features. Albeit Y/N being a Momobami, the entire clan adored her. There were so many memories with her, all of them good. They looked up to her and most of the time, they didn’t even care that she was the sister of the head of the clan. It wasn’t like her goal was to control the clan. She had bigger plans than that. Terano answered, “I’m doing good, you never told us you’d be coming back.”

“Yeah, spur of the moment.” Leaning down to hug the girl, she stood up again to see three more people racing to her. Miroslava, Rin and Ibara. She laughed as she hugged them at the same time. “Rin, you’re still short!”

“Hey! That’s not fair, you don’t get to say that just because you’re older!” He said, squinting at her but there was no malice behind the statement.

“Look at you! You look so professional!” Ibara exclaimed with a grin on his face.

“We missed you so much.” Miroslava added, a small smile also on her face.

Now it seemed like most of the school was gossiping from the sight of the Momobami clan gathering around the new girl. She wasn’t dressed in the uniform so there was no way that she was a new student. But how talented was she to be able to coerce the others into smiling when they hadn’t for a while?

“Y/N!” Two voices shouted in unison and Y/N almost toppled over from Sumika and Erimi hugging her so tightly it felt like they were trying to strangle her.

“Guys, hold on, you’re going to choke me!” She coughed out before laughing once they loosened their holds. Y/N pulled back to see Erimi still hugging the caterpillar she had sent to her about three years ago. With a smile, she gave her a tiny package. “Open it when you get home.”

The pink-haired girl had an excited expression on her face as she agreed. Sumika asked, “What are you doing back here?”

“Spur of the moment. How are your jobs? I saw the Gamble Hole, that was an incredible performance, absolutely amazing. I’d be surprised if you weren’t nominated for at least five awards.” Y/N told Sumika, making Sumika brighten up. Y/N knew exactly how to make everyone follow her like ducklings and make them happy. Their own parents had forged a path for them and even trained specific things into their heads. Y/N took that away and made them feel more comfortable when she was around.

Miyo, Miri and Nozomi had also been ecstatic to see that their cousin was back and Y/N had been whisked into the student council room abruptly by Kirari. Standing in front of the door, she raised an eyebrow. “Kirari, what’s happening here?”

“Just open the door.”

When she opened it, she was taken aback by the sight of Aoi Mibumi, the former treasurer, Sachiko Juraku, the former Moral Committee chairman, and Sakura Miharutaki, the former Beautification Committee chairwoman, also Mibumi’s fiancee. Or was she still? Y/N couldn’t hold back a gasp and Sachiko grinned as she stood up, walking over to her. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite non-gambler.”

“That’s the worst nickname for me and you know it,” Y/N snapped back. Sachiko was never her favorite person because she always used her power to abuse people and it made her furious. Y/N had defeated her and Sachiko had demanded for her to take her post as chairman. Y/N had turned her nose up at her and left.

“Gutsy, huh?” Mibumi walked over and Y/N grinned as he hugged her. “You’ve changed, Momobami.”

“Wow, why my last name? Miharutaki, don’t be jealous.” Y/N said, directing it at his fiancee. “I don’t like him like that.”

The girl shook her head knowingly. “I’m aware, I’m not worried about it either.” Also hugging her, she took a step back. “We were told that you’d be back and we wanted to say hi. Well, Sachiko just joined in to mock you or something.” Glaring at said girl, Y/N couldn’t stifle a snicker.

Kirari leaned against the wall. “The reason why I brought them here...well, let’s just say they’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

“Not me. I’ve learned my lesson against her.” Miharutaki shuddered. “Her eyes are always the thing to suck your soul in after she wins.”

“Ah, not this time.” Mibumi said. He and Sachiko, with meaningful eyes, turned to Y/N. “Will you gamble with us one more time?”

Y/N closed her eyes, thinking about the pros and cons. Well, she had come back for a vacation. Gambling would take her mind off of her responsibilities that were constantly being stuck into her head. When she looked up at them, they almost faltered at what was in her eyes. There was no way she’d changed much, except that the look in her eyes was so much more dangerous than before. “Let’s get started.”

The rest of the school had been alerted of the gamble and all the election gambles had been put off to see the battle between Y/N and the three others. Miharutaki had been told to do so and she had agreed if it would be something that they could get over with in about five minutes. She didn’t want to see Y/N after she won.

Runa rolled in on a swivel chair, laughing. “Well, look at that, noted alumni have come back to school to face against the president’s older sister! Y/N Momobami, against all three of them in a row. Rumor has it she has never lost a gamble in the few times she’s gambled in this school. Not sure about outside, but I can assure you, she’s one hell of a gambler!”

Y/N waved up at Runa as she sat across Miharutaki. Runa kept going. “For this round, we will be playing the simple game of Rock, Paper, Scissors! The cards will be put into the box over there--” She pointed at a steel box in which the students were placing their cards in. “And they will each take out three. Only one round so that this can be quick! Seems like Miharutaki doesn’t want to face Y/N later on!” With her signature laugh, she stayed quiet for the process of the cards.

Y/N picked out her cards with the lightest touch. It was a strange sixth sense of hers, whatever was hidden that she needed she’d be able to get. Pulling out her three cards, she covered them with both hands, making sure the girl before her wouldn’t be able to see them. Rock, paper and scissors. Perfect.

Now let’s look at all the possibilities, Y/N thought to herself, closing her eyes. She started thinking of what could happen. I have all kinds but if she has two papers, I either lose or I win depending on the card I take. Maybe I can take a tie as well. Same thing goes for two rocks and two scissors. If she has three of a kind, I’d have to be careful to choose right. The wrong one could make me lose on the spot. The right one immediately makes me win. But the probability of her having three of a kind is slim. And if she has one of all? I’d have to guess what her move is. But humans in rock, paper, scissors are drawn to scissors to draw first. And from the look in her eyes and how she’s focusing...Y/N glanced up slightly, noticing that Miharutaki was too focused on a card of hers. She would choose that one. It’s scissors. That means rock.

“Rock, paper, scissors!” Both of them shouted in unison, throwing down their card. Just as Y/N had expected, scissors. She had gotten rock and won immediately. It wasn’t the same rush that she’d get in a higher risk game, yet she could see that Miharutaki was afraid of looking her in the eyes. With her cheek in her hand, Y/N grinned slyly. “Are you sure you’re even good enough to be Mibumi’s fiancee?” Walking over to her and leaning on her from behind, she whispered, “It’d be a shame if something happened to him before your wedding day.”

Y/N sauntered over to Sachiko’s table, leaving Miharutaki behind in fear. She didn’t even need to look at Y/N’s eyes to feel even more terrified, but when Y/N looked over her shoulder, it was like her eyes were much more perilously bright. She was obviously planning something.

Runa yelled, “With that, Y/N has won and moved onto the second round! That wasn’t a very quick round, but now the exciting will happen! You can place your bets with votes if you must, get ready for the showdown!”

Y/N sat across from Sachiko, three rounds of Nym Type Zero with a new deck in each round. Runa would be shuffling. Sachiko was leaning back in her chair with a smirk on her face as if she had this in the bag. Y/N, not looking at her, concentrated on her cards. Two zeros, I got lucky. One one and one three. She could sense Sachiko still gazing at her and pretending to organize her cards, Y/N spoke up. “What’s wrong, Sachiko? Are you getting cold feet from your housepet not being with you? How pitiful, you’d be so much better off without her, but I guess you depend on someone to do your things all while degrading them, even if it’s their wish. Must you really have a soundboard for all hours of the day?”

Sachiko growled, almost crushing her cards. “If you were anything like me--”

“I’m sorry? Anything like you?” When Y/N finally looked up, Sachiko gasped. The light made it seem like her eyes were red. Sachiko was pushing her limits. “If I was anything like you, I’d be a disappointment to my family. I am nothing like you. I am actually successful, even at your age. You’re still learning and I’m taking over everywhere. With one snap, I can even take your housepet.” With a benign smile, she threw down her three.

Sachiko could barely think straight. She was seeing red. She tried to calm herself down, thinking this was part of Y/N’s plan. Riling someone up was the best way to make them lose themselves and their logic, thus causing them to lose their footing. She threw down another three.

“Six!” Runa exclaimed.

A one from Y/N. “Seven!”

Sachiko smirked. With her two, she could knock Y/N off of the board. But if she had a zero...Sachiko would lose. Y/N only needed two rounds to win officially. She’d have to take the leap, which was unfortunate, really. Sachiko, if Y/N hadn’t riled her up, would’ve taken the proper steps and easily defeated Y/N. Kirari noticed that just from the smirk Y/N had. She threw down a zero and Sachiko slammed down her cards in frustration.

“That is more than nine, Sachiko loses this first round!” Runa shouted into her microphone. “Next round!”

Shuffling the cards again, Y/N almost looked bored. The twins knew their sister well though. She was focusing on how Runa was shuffling the cards to see what Sachiko’s next step would be.

She looked at them. Two twos, one zero and one one. In the low zone, but that was the best move in this game.

Meanwhile, Sachiko had two threes, one zero and one one. At the first chance she got, she’d be able to knock Y/N out of the board. All right, now to intimidate her so she gets thrown off. “You’d think someone important like you would have better things to do. Did you miss the fear you’d get from the poor students? That’s so pathetic of you, Y/N, you’d really stoop that low?”

Raising an eyebrow, Y/N replied, “I’m not the one that had a leash on my housepet nor am I the one that bullied Mary into submission. I will repeat it again.” With a glower in her eyes, she firmly stated, “I am nothing like you.”

Sachiko was about to snarl at her, but she instead threw down a three.

“Three!”

Y/N, with her poker face on, put down a two.

“Five!”

Another three.

“Eight!”

A one.

“Nine!”

Sachiko grinned. There was no way Y/N would be able to wiggle out of this one. Two zeros was hard to come by and so was one zero. But this girl was some sort of miracle worker. She’d find a way to scrounge up a zero, she couldn’t underestimate her at all. Sachiko shook her head, throwing down her zero with a smug smile.

“Nine!”

Y/N touched one of her cards and stared at Sachiko in the eyes as she spoke up. “Check up on Mikura. I have a feeling she won’t be speaking for a long time, especially not to you. It’s so simple to get to the housepet’s owner, especially someone like you.” Laughing, she put down her zero, grinning at the look in Sachiko’s eyes. Walking over, she took her hand in both of hers, a sadistic smile across Y/N’s face. Sachiko was shaking from her loss as she trembled to look up at Y/N. This wasn’t the same girl that she wanted to get as a housepet. She had become someone Sachiko could only dream to be. She was sadistic, her job had done that much, but the thrill of the gamble just amplified that feeling. “Mikura isn’t yours anymore. She’s now mine.”

Walking to Mibumi, the former chairwoman clutched her head in her hands, screaming hysterically. Y/N had blatantly lied but she was so good at lying she could pass it off as the truth and even Sachiko couldn��t tell.

“Y/N has won the second round! Now for the final round, our president will tell us what to do!” Runa said into her microphone.

Kirari stepped up and said, “Come with me, both of you. I will have Runa arrive as well and the vice president. In the meantime, place your bets. I have a feeling this will be a good match.”

Ririka walked alongside Y/N and Mibumi, Runa right behind them. Mibumi and Runa started cahttering and catching up, but Ririka was silent. The silence was enough to help them communicate. Y/N had helped Kirari and Ririka form a new language to communicate silently, just as Miri and Miyo had.

Are you okay?

Yeah, Ririka, I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Mibumi’s an easy target.

No, it’s just...Kirari has been planning this for a while. At least the game. It’s not the safest thing either, she doesn’t like it being safe.

The group stepped outside the school and walked past the Tower of Doors. From what Ririka had told her, Y/N knew someone had jumped and survived the fall because of a deal that was made. The new girl had been in that bet.

“You have a choice: the Tower of Doors, the Maze or my personal favorite: the Castle of Mirrors. Nothing is what it seems. You can’t trust anything or anyone. You don’t know what you’re seeing or where you’re going and what’s more, a single wrong choice can lead you to your demise.”

Aoi and Y/N looked at each other and they nodded. “Castle of Mirrors.”

“Great. Let me explain the rules, they’re very simple. You will both have a limited amount of times to get to the center of the castle. In that castle, you will find options specifically for you. Your chosen path will determine it. It will be your choice to choose where the key will go. Try not to die or get lost. Getting lost means a painful death or drive you on the brink of insanity.”

Aoi frowned. “Why would you have some sort of contraption like that?!”

Y/N turned to him, grabbing both of his hands in hers. He sucked in a breath at her expression. It was horrifying, but she looked thrilled, just like the new girl when she had a good gamble. “Because it’s all for the thrill, isn’t it? Whoever wins will stay alive and the loser loses their minds! Oh, Aoi, I don’t gamble much but this...” She gestured at the building ahead of them. “This is exactly what we’ve been waiting for! Besides...” Her insanity was gone, replaced by another thing he couldn’t get his finger on. “If you lose your mind, I’ll get to see you in a ward.”

They walked to the castle and Kirari said, “Be prepared. The only thing I’ll tell you is not everything is what it seems.”

With those words, the two were off. Y/N was walking through a dark hallway, not able to see anything in front of her. However, she shared a mind with her sister. They weren’t twins but sisters had a connection that was completely different. Pausing to think, she crouched down to touch the floor. Nothing but gravel. The walls were cement and it was getting slightly colder. She was getting close to the actual beginning.

The lights flashed on when Y/N stepped in, mirrors all around her. Aoi was right in front of her with a familiar smile on his face. “Guess we’re stuck here together.”

Squinting at him, she turned around to the door again only to find it closed. He was only a hologram, she could tell. Kirari was smart, but Y/N was smarter. Looking around for a crack in the glass, she found it and ran her fingers across it. The mirror opened, leading to another hallway. Oh, I get it. It’s like the Tower of Doors, just more challenging because you don’t know where you’re going. Nice going, Kirari. With a feeling of pride in her chest, she kept walking forward.

The next room she stepped into was full of familiar notebooks. Stepping over to one of them, she discovered that they were the infamous Life Plans. She found herself opening one of them out of curiosity only to drop it as if it was burning. She kicked it under the tables and kept walking through the tables. She knew she’d have to choose one in order to move on.

Think, Y/N, think. There has to be a catch to this. Wait...Her eyes widened as something clicked in her head. One of the mirrors had a crack in it. It wasn’t what it seemed, it was a door. One of these Life Plans is just a regular notebook. That’s it! The realization that she also couldn’t choose any or else she’d lose sunk in. She nodded and with a smile, turning to the camera in the corner. “You’re a genius, Kirari.”

But her job was cutthroat and full of liars. The fake notebook would have something distinct to it, different than the Plans. Walking around to study them, they all look extremely similar. Time was running out and she had a feeling that Aoi was catching up. Her hand floated over one notebook that was slightly darker than the others. Picking it up, all she found inside of it were blank pages.

The door opened and she had stepped inside to see Kirari, Runa and Ririka there. She had arrived first. Her eyes landed on the circular table there, full of cards. The Tarot Cards of Fate. The game Y/N had devised when they were younger. It had become Kirari’s favorite game.

“Y/N has won the first two rounds, but if Aoi Mibumi wins this round, it’s over! Y/N will have lost!” Runa winked at her and she nodded, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall.

About five minutes later, Aoi walked in with a smirk on his face. “Nice contraption, Kirari. Almost got stabbed by the shards of the mirror.”

“Yes, it’s clear that you couldn’t think as fast as my sister.” The president answered. “The last round. Mibumi, Y/N, you two will have something to gain or lose. Y/N, what will you gamble?”

“The company, of course.” Y/N knew this game like the back of her hand. She’d make sure she didn’t lose and all she had to do was make Aoi Mibumi fall in love with her by the end of it.

“Mibumi?”

He had to think about it. Y/N was a Momobami and practically the richest woman in the world, if not the richest human being on the planet. There was only everything to gain and nothing to lose. “I have no idea, Y/N has everything.”

“You’re right, well. How about this? Aoi, if you win, you can take her place and if Y/N wins, she chooses what to do with you.” Kirari offered.

“Will that satisfy you, Y/N?” Aoi looked over at her.

Y/N thought about it for a few seconds before giving him a sweet smile that made him almost melt. “Of course! This gamble is against you, so of course it’s going to be exciting!” She didn’t lie about that part. He was a good person to play against, but an awful person to hang around. She didn’t need him in any way that mattered to normal people, all she did need was the ties with his family head to expand her company. The sheer thought made her heart race, already excited for the result.

“Now, it’s simple. The Tarot Cards of Fate. I had Runa bring her own tarot cards and she set them up, so there’s no bias towards anyone.” Kirari was on the outer circle of the table, her hand almost touching the cards. She picked one up, the backside facing the duo and hummed. “Runa will decide the point. If it’s a positive, Y/N’s points go up, hence helping her win. If it’s a negative, Mibumi will win. However, the Fool is the one that will decide your instant win or your instant loss, depending on what position it is in.” Putting the card down, she crossed her arms and said, “The Past, Present and the Future. All decided by Fate. How exciting, don’t you think?”

Aoi’s mind was practically racing to find out if there was any catch to this, if there was anything that would help him get the Fool. Kirari continued, “Ririka will choose the Past. Mibumi, the Present. Y/N, the Future. Fitting, isn’t it? Ririka determines what happened in the past with you both, Mibumi is still stuck in the present and Y/N has the future in her hands.” Going back over to Runa, she nodded. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes, we shall! Vice president, if you could please go down and choose the present?” Runa said, ecstatic.

Ririka silently went down and looked around. If there was a way to help Y/N win, she’d do it. Y/N didn’t need help most of the time, she was independent and knew her worth. However, seeing as she gave them lessons that stuck all their lives and helped them out whenever she could, she wanted to repay that favor at least once. Her hand was on a card.

“Is that the card you will choose?”

She nodded and turned it over.

“It is the Sun upright! That gives Y/N fifteen points! Aoi, it is your turn, can you knock her back down?”

Y/N caught Ririka’s eye and mouthed a thank you. Ririka nodded slightly, happy that she was able to help Y/N even a little bit. Both of their attention went back to Aoi. He had his hand on a card. “Y/N, I’ve always wondered what was always on your mind when we were still in school.”

She frowned. “Come again?”

“You know. You were popular by being related to the highest authority in the school and yet not once did you ever try to join our society to take them down. They were your sisters sure, but look at you now. Are you compensating for the fact that your younger sisters were able to conquer this school and thus the country?”

Her fists were clenched and it took everything in her power not to go over and show him what she actually felt. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. “No. They’re my sisters. Not once were they treated lesser than me, nor did they do it to me. Aoi...I’m sorry that you have to be married to someone that’s not like you. I really am and I wish that you had someone better. But those twins have made me proud more times than your society has ever made you proud. I just conquered the world because it was at my disposal.”

Those words made Aoi sigh. Was it in disbelief? All he was thinking was that the crush he had on her a couple of years ago had not faded and just with those words, he found himself falling in love with her all over again. “How I wish you joined our side. I could’ve treated you like a queen.”

“I didn’t need someone else to treat me like a queen. All I did was went out to do it myself. You, Aoi Mibumi, couldn’t do it either.”

“Ah well. Maybe it’s good that I never told you.” He smiled at her. It was painful to hear those words and it was clear as well. The smile was just a facade. Y/N smirked at him, knowing that she injured him where it hurt most. She knew about his feelings and she decided to cut it in half along with his heart. She watched as Aoi flipped over the card and her lips parted slightly in shock.

“And he has flipped over the Lovers in reverse! That means minus 20, leading to Y/N having only -5! She has one chance to win! If he wins, he takes over her entire company and if she wins, she gets to take something from him!”

Taking a deep breath she started walking around the table with a distinct expression that Aoi remembered as the one where she was calculating everything within the game. And in this case, she was psychoanalyzing her little sister, trying to find out something from her so she could find it from Runa. It was something he loved so much and missed seeing. She didn’t need him and it hurt, but it was like he wanted to please her. He just wanted her to smile at him genuinely at least once.

“Do you know something?” He had forgotten she was a Momobami. She’d begin with some sort of monologue. However, Y/N had a way to capture people in her web of words. They were like pure honey with venom covered in it. It was surprising no one caught it, but how could they when she was so charismatic and charming? Everyone loved her even if they hated her at first.

“What?”

“I used to like you.” His eyes widened at the statement and it looked like she was reminiscing in time. “I wanted to be like Miharutaki for the longest time, please you and even be yours. Yet I had to remind myself that it was impossible. You know why?” She looked up, locking her eyes with his. “Because you were a fool. You organized a society to take down my little sister. She’s a Momobami, just like me. I taught her everything she knows now. So if you’re thinking I’m a fool for not liking you in our third year...” Laughing, she turned her card around, showing it to him. “You’re the fool.”

His jaw dropped and Runa yelled, “The Fool, upright! An instant win for Y/N, leading to Aoi Mibumi’s loss! I don’t think any of us expected the Fool to be chosen, but this is the president’s older sister!”

“And with that, I’m going back home. That was enough gambling for one day. Ririka, we can go past that coffee shop that you like. Oh, Aoi?”

He looked up at her and she grabbed the collar of his shirt, whispering, “Next time you try to be an idiot and destroy what they built, you’ll have me to deal with. But also...” She pulled away and there it was. The smile that could qualify as a blow to his heart. It was the genuine smile he had been wanting. “You were always amazing to play with. Thank you for the game. Ririka, let’s go.”

They both walked out of the room, Y/N talking animatedly to her. The other three watched them go and once the door shut behind them, there was a bit of laughter coming from Kirari. “Isn’t it funny? My sister is so good at flustering people and taking their deepest fears, using them to her advantage. Even now, Mibumi, you’re still in awe of her, even if she utterly destroyed your pride.”

Runa laughed. “She is on a whole other level, I can see where you get it from, President.”

Aoi couldn’t even talk. He was so enraptured by her, every word she had directed towards him was not ignored and it was like she knew what she was doing to him. She enjoyed it.

“You know, if I wasn’t engaged, I’d ask for her hand in marriage.”

Kirari’s face went hard before she dropped the expression. Instead, she replied with barely repressed rage. “And neither Ririka, nor I will let that happen. Get it out of your head.”

The next day, Aoi Mibumi’s father had decided to seal a deal with Y/N L/N, leading to the expansion of her company. His father had seen how different his son acted around her. It wasn’t a shock, he had almost handed his company over with no negotiation before hand just from the aura she had when she walked in.

“Yeah, so that’s what happened. It seemed like he would’ve handed it over without any questions.” Y/N laughed, taking a sip of her tea.

“When are you going back to work?” Kirari asked.

“Wow, are you already kicking me out? Probably next week? I can’t leave my entire company with my assistant, that would make her lose her mind and I didn’t want that.”

The twins truly didn’t want her to leave but they knew that Y/N had more important things in her mind than a simple gambling school. She had made sure that no one ever caught up to her and they worshipped her with just a wink or a smile. It was so simple really. Business was cutthroat up until Y/N came in with her charms and the plan backfired on the person. Ririka spoke up. “How did you know that the card was the Fool upright?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I know you two like the back of my hand. And by knowing you, I know the people around you. Plus Runa is easy to analyze. The pattern was also simple. The Sun, followed by the Lovers and they were in the opposite sides? That would mean the formation would be a triangle, seeing as triangles are the strongest shape. Was it on the left or the right? That’s where you two come in play. Runa knew Ririka would choose the sun and the oldest takes the first path, which is the left. That’s what I chose.”

They blinked. Kirari answered, “That was a big gamble, that also seems a bit unlikely.”

“Well, yes, it was a big gamble, but isn’t that what gambling is all about?” Y/N looked at the sugar cubes, taking one delicately. “You either gamble safely and risk nothing or...” She crushed it in her hand, the granules falling neatly into her tea. “You gamble with reckless abandon, not sure whether to lose or to win.”

In the end, Y/N gained two more people afraid of her and one of them hopelessly in love with her. It was how she got more business deals, thus helping her expansion throughout the planet. She didn’t settle for one country, she wanted to take it all to make sure to be seen as someone to look up to. No longer did she want to be looked down upon like when she was younger. It was fortunate that she was incredibly intelligent and knew what it took to win. If it took everything she had to win, she’d do it.

#kakegurui x reader #kakegurui x y/n #kakegurui x you #kirari x reader #kirari momobami x reader #ririka x reader #ririka momobami x reader #kirari x y/n #kirari momobami x y/n #ririka x y/n #ririka momobami x y/n

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Note

PLEASEEE write more for august walker! i'm in love with the banter in "welcome home, walker" and how he's grumpy but has a soft spot for the reader. LOVE UR OTHER WORKS TOO <33

Aww, I love Auggie! And it has been a bit since I wrote for him. Soooooo...

PDA

Pairing: August Walker x fem!Reader

Words: 2145

Summary: You and Auggie go out with the graduating cadets to celebrate your new assignment.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (innuendo, teasing, sex in a public place, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex), violence (fistfight, implication of gore and death), betrayal, protective!Auggie, TW- implication of impending date rape/mentions of drugs, SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: This got away from me a bit if I’m being honest. I was just gonna do the teasing in the gym but I couldn’t stop myself, so please enjoy this little impromptu fic! And please feel free to send me an ask if there’s a character or kink or anything you’d like to see more of!

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist here if you want!

You didn’t know how he got you in this position. You could practically feel him beaming over you as you struggled to get out of the hold he had you in.

“You keep moving like that, you’re gonna make me hard, sweetheart. You want me to fuck you right here on the mat?”

August ground his crotch against your ass to illustrate his point and you let out a moan. Your arms were bent back at your shoulders unnaturally as you scrabbled for some purchase to get out of his grip.

“Fuck off, Auggie. You know the only reason you’re on top right now is because I didn’t get any sleep.” Maybe if you arched your back a little...

August groaned in your ear as your ass rubbed against his growing erection.

“Shit, Y/N. The director is right there.”

You turned your head as much as you could to see Sloane standing at the gym entrance, surveying the cadets as they practiced their sparring. You wiggled your ass again, making Auggie growl at you.

“You’re not giving me a lot of options, baby. You know my brain doesn’t work when I’m sleep deprived.”

He grumbled and you felt him start to loosen the hold he had on your arms. You grinned to yourself as you wrapped one arm behind his neck, gripping the hair at the base of his scalp and rolling forward. You heard him give a small sound of surprise as you flipped him over, knocking all the air out of his lungs when you slammed him into the mat and wrapping your body around his shoulders, stretching him to the point of pain.

“Damn it, I thought we were done.”

“I don’t remember tapping out, sweetie.” You gripped his wrist and stretched his arm even further as you squeezed your thighs around his neck.

He wheezed for a second before a wicked grin spread over his face. “Y’know, when you get me in these holds, I can smell you, and it drives me fucking crazy.”

You almost loosened your hold at his admission but caught yourself at the last second. “August...” you growled in warning.

“I know you’re soaked under these sweats, sweetheart.” He turned his head as much as your hold would allow, running his nose along the inseam of your sweats until you released him with a hiss.

“Fine, it’s a draw.” You mumbled, drawing yourself to your feet as he chuckled darkly. “Equipment room in 5?”

“Walker, Y/L/N, with me.” Sloane gave a beckoning motion and the two of you moved to follow, sighing with frustration.

You moved with the director as she marched back towards her office, shooting each other apprehensive looks as you considered what she may want to talk to you about.

“Good news you two.” Sloane announced as she closed the door to her office behind you. “We finally managed to get the heat off you from Interpol, and you’re set for a new assignment in Brazil.” She handed you your files detailing the op. “Looks like there’s a Syndicate group operating there, moving weapons through the black market there. You ship out in two days. Please do your best to remember, Syndicate members are assets, not targets.”

“Right, boss.” You murmured, flipping through your ID docs. August just grunted beside you.

“Alright, I heard the two of you are going out with the graduating cadets and trainers tonight to celebrate the end of the course. Don’t overdo it.” She gave you a knowing wink before you turned to leave the office.

“I think she knows about us.” August whispered as the two of you headed to your lockers.

You just laughed at him. “Auggie, honey, we’re the worst kept secret at Langley.”

“Y/N, Walker, I hear congrats are in order! We’re gonna miss the two of you in training!” Melissa managed to find out everything as soon as it happened, you didn’t know how she got stuck in training instead of the field. “I’ll make sure everyone buys you a round at the club tonight.”

You groaned at that, those goddamn trainers would have you passed out if they got their way. You slammed your locker closed and turned back to August.

“Meet you at the club, baby. Make sure to do your reading first!” You called over your shoulder as you headed out.

You arrived at the club 4 hours later to see August looking incredibly uncomfortable in the middle of a group of rowdy cadets. You tutted to yourself as you approached him, he always had a stick up his ass.

He saw you then, and his face relaxed as he walked to meet you.

“You’re late.” He grumbled as the two of you headed to the bar. “You know how much I hate talking to these kids.”

“Relax, grandpa.” You smiled before turning to order yourself a gin and tonic. “You gonna dance at all tonight, or just stand there glowering?”

He scoffed into his scotch as you grinned at him, moving closer and rubbing your foot over his calf suggestively.

“Don’t you start something you’re not prepared to finish, beautiful.”

Just then, Melissa arrived with a tray full of tequila shots, and you let out a groan. This was the second time you got cock blocked today, and you were starting to get frustrated.

“Look what I’ve got for you!” she said gleefully as the two of you winced at her.

“Melissa, I’ve told you a million times, I don’t do tequila.”

“C’mon, it’s your last night with us, just a couple.”

You took a deep breath and grabbed a shot for yourself, giving August a shrug before tossing it back. He hissed between his teeth as he downed his own.

“Fuck me, you sure this isn’t rubbing alcohol? Jesus, Melissa!”

She just handed the two of you two more with a giggle, and clapped her hands when you swallowed them. Before you knew it she was dragging you towards the dance floor, your head fuzzy from the tequila as you instructed August to watch your cocktail. He gave you a grin before turning back to the bar, but that quickly changed once he noticed movement in your glass.

August clenched his jaw as his arm shot out to grab the cadet that was wandering away from the bar, wrapping his fist around his upper arm with a vise-like grip.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” He growled, a menacing glare taking over his face.

“Get your hand off me, man.” The frat boy idiot actually looked offended as he glanced down at August’s hand.

Walker just tightened his grip as he patted the asshole down, cocking an eyebrow as he pulled a tiny baggie of tablets out of his breast pocket.

“Graham, right? What’s a senator’s nephew doing with… what is this? GHB? Molly?”

“Look, buddy.” The moron gave him a grin like he was his friend as August stared him down. “That piece of ass needs some loosening up. I bet she’s a tiger in the sack.”

August threw your drink in his face before hauling him outside. He considered letting you handle it yourself, but he wanted to let off some steam.

He didn’t say anything, just punched the smarmy bastard in the face. The idiot didn’t even try to defend himself, pathetic.

“What the fuck?! You broke my nose!” Graham held a hand to his face as he stared at Walker in disbelief.

“Yeah, that’s not all I’m gonna do to you.” He growled as he set to work.

Five minutes later he stood over his handiwork, wiping the blood off his knuckles as he let out a sigh. That had gotten a little out of hand.

“Fuck.” He muttered, pulling his burner out of his suit pocket and dialing. “Yeah, this is Lark. Send a cleanup crew to the alley outside Sketch. Yeah, some senator’s nephew.” He frowned over the phone. “Because it’s a fucking order.” He hung up, not bothering to wait for the Syndicate’s sanitation team before heading back into the club to find you.

He found you on the dance floor and a hungry sneer came over his face. He strode toward you and wrapped a possessive hand around your throat from behind, drawing you fast against his chest and growling into your ear. You whined as he pulled you away from the group, Melissa beaming at the two of you like an idiot.

“Have fun you two!” She called as August steered you around a corner.

He pressed you into the wall behind a column, his mouth devouring yours as he slotted his knee between your legs. You whimpered as he shoved a hand in the front of your blouse, squeezing your breast viciously before tweaking your nipple to the point of your pain as you arched into his hand.

“Fuck, Auggie. What happened?” You were panting with need as he moved his face down to bury in your neck, his teeth scraping over your throat.

“I’ll tell you later. Are you still drunk?” He moved his other hand to the apex of your thighs and groaned against your chest when he felt your slick coated folds. You weren’t wearing any panties.

“No, the dancing burned most of it off. Shit.” You hissed as he inserted two fingers inside you, stretching you open as he fumbled with his zipper. “Can’t even make it to the bathroom, huh?”

“Sorry sweetheart.” He mumbled as he freed his dick from his slacks. “Sure seems like you were expecting this, though.”

He moved his lips to yours and swallowed your cry as he dipped his hips and plunged into you. His hands wrapped around your thighs and lifted them to wrap around him as he started to move his hips. He tried to move slow so it wasn’t obvious what the two of you were doing, but those goddamn tiny whimpers you were making into his mouth were making it hard for him to control himself.

“God, this cunt feels better every time I’m in it. Fuck.” You were clenching around him with each thrust and your breath was coming in ragged gasps, letting him know you were close. “Jesus Christ, it’s barely been a minute. You’re so fucking sensitive.” He nipped at your bottom lip and stilled his hips for a beat as he teased you.

You slapped his bicep playfully and whined. “Shut the fuck up and move, asshole.”

He braced one hand on the wall and drew his hips back slowly before slamming into you. You buried your face in his neck to muffle your scream as you came apart. Your pussy fluttered around him as every muscle went rigid. He felt you sobbing against him as your muscles quivered in your release, his hips still setting a punishing pace as he fucked you through it.

“Shit, honey.” He murmured against your cheek as you came down. “You make it so easy.”

Your snort turned into a whimper as a particularly deep thrust had him kissing your cervix. “Fuck, Auggie.”

“Yeah, right there?”

You nodded vigorously as your face screwed up in bliss, leaning it back against the wall as he picked up the pace.

His cock was dragging against that sweet spot inside you with each thrust and it was all you could focus on. Your thighs squeezed around him as he brought you closer and closer to another orgasm. He loved watching you take it, getting completely lost in your pleasure. And knowing he was the one doing this to you was just icing on the cake.

“You close, gorgeous?” He asked, feeling his own imminent release looming.

“Shit, shit!”

He was extremely grateful for the loud music as you screamed in your release. He swallowed a shout of his own as his cock twitched and his cum spurted into you, painting your insides as his hips faltered and he collapsed against you.

“Jesus.” You whispered as you set your feet on the floor, August still sheathed in you as he softened. “Public sex, who knew?”

You felt his chest rumble against you as he gave a low chuckle, sliding out of you gently before he tucked himself back into his slacks. He ducked his head to give you a tender kiss as he drew down the hem of your skirt over your thighs.

“We should go back to your place.” He whispered after he released you, leaving you breathless.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but I’m totally fine with it. Lemme just say goodbye to Melissa.”

He grinned as he watched you saunter away, your gait a little wobbly as you tried to keep his cum from leaking out of you. He was really looking forward to your new assignment. The thought of being cooped up with you for several months was making him hard already.

Tags:

@slothspaghettiwrites @stargazingfangirl18 @starlightcrystalline @jack-skellingtons-stuff @drabblewithfrannybarnes @captain-asguard @harrysthiccthighss @bonkywobble @dslap65 @stanallstarks @macgruberrr @blackestpinkworld @wanderinglunarnights @sebslut @allinhishands

#natalie answers #natalie writes #request granted #request #send me asks #august walker #august walker fandom #august walker x reader #august walker x you #august walker x y/n #august walker smut #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill smut #smut #eighteen plus #mission impossible fallout

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keewriting · 3 years

Text

Cove x MC - One Shot #1

[Read on google docs to insert your MC's name]

The crescendo of rain hitting your window woke you from a peaceful slumber. It didn’t often rain this hard in Sunset Bird, especially not during the summer. You felt a pang of disappointment that your typical summer pastimes were not viable on a day like this.

You rolled groggily out of bed and sighed, wondering what Cove thought of the unfortunate weather situation. Knowing him, he’d be even more bummed than you — then it hit you! The list!

You scrambled over to your messy desk and opened the biggest drawer, which you affectionately called the “junk drawer.” This was the home to everything of value that didn’t have a specific place in your room. The actual value of the items in the junk drawer was pretty questionable. From old gaming devices and batteries, to loose papers that could maybe be useful someday.

With everything shoved out of the way, you uncovered the beacon of hope for this gloomy day. A small spiral notebook with a shiny turquoise cover, speckled in tiny yellow stars. You and Cove started using this notebook on rainy days for games of hangman and tic-tac-toe. There were years of games in this notebook, nearly every page filled with games and doodles.

You sighed wistfully as you turned the pages and reminisced about each game. Your first ever hangman game with Cove occurred on a particularly hot day. Yet, playing paper-based games became a rainy day tradition for you two. You went out and bought a special notebook just to keep them all in one place.

During your first hangman game with Cove, he settled on the phrase "you are cute." You couldn’t decide if that was the most Cove-like thing he’d done or if it was boldly uncharacteristic. You blushed at the memory and smiled gently.

Remembering your mission, you snapped out of the Cove-induced trance. You began flipping pages faster until you landed on one containing a list. On the last rainy day you and Cove suffered through, he had the idea to make a list of things you two could do to pass the time. It seemed he could only handle so many games of hangman and tic-tac-toe.

You each took turns writing something you would want to do on a rainy day. There were even corresponding doodles scattered on the page to illustrate each activity. The stark difference between your handwriting compared to Cove’s stood out to you today. His was relatively neat compared to your chicken scratch.

Rather than continuing to dwell on your poor penmanship, you looked closer at the items on the list. There were a total of 14 entries. You skimmed past each one with a focused scowl on your face until you landed on number 12: ear piercing. This was one of your suggestions, and one that didn’t come easily. You went back and forth in your head before writing this one. Considering how you would ask your moms for permission, what other people would think, and how Cove would feel about it. At the time of writing it down Cove seemed on board, for you at least. He was apprehensive about getting one himself, preferring to avoid the conversation with his dad.

A sly smile formed across your face. You decided that at 13 you were old enough to take control of your own body, regardless of what your moms would think. You emphatically shut the notebook and hopped up from the desk chair that you had slumped into earlier.

With a newfound energy you began quickly getting ready. You pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and rummaged through your closet, looking for your yellow raincoat and rainboots. As cliche as they were, you quite enjoyed the look. You could really use the brightness on such a cloudy day. You remembered to shove the small notebook in your back pocket.

You bounded down the stairs and out the door, calling out your goodbyes to whoever was still in the house. You paused under the awning to pull your hood over your head before walking carefully across to Cove’s house. The rain was still coming down hard and the street was slick with rain. With how clumsy you were you couldn’t afford to rush over and slip on a puddle.

Once you reached the Holden’s door you removed your hood and knocked confidently. Mr. Holden appeared momentarily to open the door, his face lit up when he saw you standing there.

Mr. Holden: Y/N! Hey, buddy. How are ya? Come on in!

You stepped inside with a smile and began wiping your feet vigorously on the door mat.

Y/N: Good morning, Mr. Holden. Is Cove around?

Mr. Holden: Sure is, he's surely tucked up in his room still. Why don’t you leave your boots and coat here and you can go wake him up.

You grinned at the thought as you pulled your coat off to give it to Mr. Holden. You slipped off your boots and thanked him as you tip-toed over to Cove’s bedroom door. You considered your options, truly unsure of what he could be up to behind closed doors. After some quick deliberation, you opted for loudly barging in while singing his name.

Without another moment of hesitation, you turned the knob and in a sing-songy voice, called out to him

Y/N: CoooOOoooove, rise and shine!

Cove’s sleepy figure stirred gently at the sound of your voice. He blinked open his eyes slowly and rubbed his hands through his seafoam green locks as you stood over him beaming. Finally, he uttered his first words of the day.

Cove: Y/N? What are you doing here so early?

You chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to make Cove blush and start to sit up.

Y/N: Do you hear that? Outside?

Cove paused for a second before looking past you out his window. His expression dropped and he groaned.

Cove: Rain…

You scooted closer and crouched so your faces were level. You smiled deviously and noted how his eyes widened and his cheeks reddened.

Y/N: Cove, today we will fulfil our destiny.

Before he could utter a word, you shifted to retrieve the crumpled notebook from your back pocket. Cove slid up more, clearly intrigued. You turned to the right page and faced it towards Cove while pointing decidedly to number 10.

Cove: Ear piercing… oh yeah! You want to do that one today?

You nodded enthusiastically, hoping Cove would still be on board for this idea. You knew it was a one-sided activity, but you could use his support since it would be your first piercing.

Cove: The mall has a piercing booth, right? Or did you have somewhere else in mind?

Y/N: The mall is exactly what I had in mind!

Cove: Cool. So, how are we getting there?

For the first time since early morning, you felt defeated. Your shoulders slumped and you looked down at your hands. At 13, you might be old enough to get a needle through your ear, but you still couldn’t operate a vehicle. The mall was also too far to walk to, you remembered the time Kyra drove you all to the mall for a visit. Noticing how down you became, Cove spoke.

Cove: I could… ask my dad to drive us there. He isn’t working today. I’m sure he’d say yes.

You instantly perked up and turned to Cove with an open-mouthed smile.

Y/N: Really? Really. Really? Would you?

Cove chuckled and nodded. You wrapped around him with a tight hug the instant his head jerked upward. Your face planted on his chest. You exhaled loudly as you listened to his rushed heartbeat. After you pulled away, Cove got up and smiled nervously, flustered and ready to get the day going. You sat patiently on the bed while Cove got ready and asked his dad about driving you both to the mall.

Once he returned to his bedroom, he wordlessly flashed you a smile and thumbs-up combo. You followed him out to the front door where his dad was waiting with your coat. You accepted the coat and slipped on your boots. Cove had no rain protection, but you decided to stay quiet, knowing he preferred minimal layers.

You all headed out the door into Mr. Holden’s car. Cove sat in the backseat with you even though he typically preferred to ride shotgun. You felt special that he would rather keep you company. A startling question from Mr. Holden interrupted your pleasant thoughts.

Mr. Holden: I hear you plan on getting an ear piercing today, Y/N. Is that right?

Your mouth fell agape and you looked over to Cove, who upon noticing your expression became concerned. You realized you didn’t tell Cove about your plans to keep the ear piercing a secret from your moms. Now that Mr. Holden knew, it was almost certain he would casually bring it up to your moms. Not willing to reveal your sneaky plans, you spoke confidently.

Y/N: Yep! I’ve been wanting one for a while.

Mr. Holden: Hey, that’s great. I bet it’ll look really cool.

You looked over at Cove and smiled at him, hoping to relieve any confusion or concern. He returned the smile, but still appeared deep in thought. The rest of the car ride was uneventful. Mr. Holden dropped the two of you off and notified you of his return in 3 hours.

As soon as you were alone, standing at the entrance of the mall, Cove turned to you with his arms crossed over his chest. You looked up at him sheepishly and noticed his shrewd expression.

Cove: What was that about? That face? Should I not have told dad about the piercing?

Cove’s perceptiveness toward all your quirks was a blessing and a curse. The smallest look on your face could be a dead giveaway to him. You knew he would feel guilty for ruining your plan, but there was no point in trying to hide it from him.

Y/N: I didn’t get permission from my moms to get a piercing.

His eyes widened as his arms dropped to his sides.

Cove: Oh my God, I didn’t realize. I’m really sorry. Are you going to be in a lot of trouble? I don’t want you grounded all summer. We won’t be able to hang out as much. Maybe we should get smoothies and tell everyone it was a joke—

You cut off his rambling, not wanting him to tire himself out so early. Although you appreciated his concern, especially regarding your ability to spend time together.

Y/N: It’s okay, Cove. Really. I totally forgot to mention it when I told you this morning because I was so excited. They would have to find out somehow, right?

Cove: I guess. Can I make it up to you, though? I’ll buy you a smoothie anyway.

Y/N: Well, I could never say no to a smoothie from Cove Holden.

You smiled at each other and continued into the mall. You walked with purpose toward the piercing booth. Your stomach was turning with eagerness and nerves. Cove’s long strides matched perfectly with your short but quick paces. He looked at you with a comforting smile as you closed in on the booth.

The piercer at the booth was an older teen with an assortment of piercings on their own face and ears. They chewed gum loudly as they took down your information and set you up on the cold, hard piercing chair. While they put on gloves and prepared the tools, Cove inched closer to stand next to you.

Cove: How are you feeling?

Y/N: Nervous, excited... very rebellious.

Cove hummed in acknowledgment. You felt his hand brush the hair behind your ear. He gently pinched the now exposed top of your ear. You felt goosebumps travel across your skin at the touch.

Cove: This is where you want it, right? What was it called again… a helix?

You felt your face get hot, pleased that he remembered, and surprised that he was so casually touching you. You managed a quiet “mhm” before the piercer sauntered over to you.

Piercer: Alright, kid. Where do you want it?

Cove shifted out of the way as you pointed to where he had touched. You explained to the piercer that you wanted a simple helix on your right ear. As the piercer was marking your ear, you looked at Cove with pleading eyes.

Y/N: Cove, can I hold your hand?

A distinct blush spread across his cheeks but he didn’t hesitate to position himself next to you on your left side. He offered you his hand and tried to smile reassuringly. You took it gratefully and practiced different levels of squeeze pressure. You didn’t want to accidentally hurt Cove. His hand was hot and familiarly comforting.

Piercer: Ready?

You looked straight ahead and tensed up. You felt your heart pounding in your throat, annoyed that you were so nervous about something you definitely wanted to do. You felt Cove’s eyes on you, a reassurance that he would always be there for you.

Y/N: Go for it.

The piercer lined up the needle and stuck it through your ear in one quick motion. The pain was sharp and quick. You winced and instinctively tightened your grip on Cove’s hand. He squeezed back gently and you could hear a slight sympathetic groan escape his throat. A throbbing soreness replaced the initial sharp pain. You sighed as the piercer removed the needle and inserted a simple silver hoop.

Cove: Y/N? Are you okay? How did it feel?

You looked up at Cove and met his concerned gaze. Without letting go of his hand, you offered a small smile.

Y/N: It definitely hurts. But having this helped wonders.

You lifted his hand and gestured to it with your eyes. His smile reflected a mixed sense of pride, embarrassment, and relief.

Cove: I’m glad… Here, let me get a better look at it.

With your hands still intertwined, he helped you hop off the piercing chair. You faced him and turned your head to the side so he could see the piercing.

Y/N: How does it look?

Cove smiled widely with eyes bright.

Cove: I like it. You look amazing, Y/N.

Although Cove instantly seemed to regret his phrasing, you felt thrilled. Knowing that Cove was into it made facing your moms later seem a little less daunting. You hoped he could be there to help back up your decision.

Y/N: Thank you, Cove. And thanks for being my stress ball.

Cove: Anytime. How about that smoothie I promised?

You bounced excitedly with a loud “Woo!” You finished the transaction with the piercer and listened to their spiel about piercing care. Soon you were off to the smoothie stand with Cove.

Y/N: Do you know what combo you’re going to get? Same as last time?

Cove hummed thoughtfully. You wondered if he was also remembering the time you stole a sip from his smoothie. He never ended up finishing it after that. You felt a pang of guilt and decided you would let him keep the smoothie to himself.

Cove: I think I’d like to mix it up. There were so many great options to choose from.

Y/N: Right?! I would love it if I could just add all of the fruit and berries. Make a super smoothie concoction.

Cove scrunched his face in exaggerated disgust. You chuckled at his reaction and gently nudged his arm. He nudged right back with a warm smile planted on his face.

You each placed your order with the smoothie attendant. Cove paid for both. You felt appreciative of the gesture, knowing he wanted to make you feel better about your foiled plan. His consideration for your feelings made you feel warm inside, even though you didn’t blame him at all for the mishap.

Cove picked up both smoothies and handed you your order with a smile. As you continued your walk through the mall, you took a long, deep sip and then exhaled loudly.

Y/N: That really hit the spot! Thanks, Cove.

Cove simply nodded as he continued to sip at his smoothie. For a second you thought his lips wouldn't move from the straw for the rest of the trip, not willing to risk losing a drop to your sneaky mouth. But then, he broke free and smiled with a wince.

Cove: Brain freeze.

You burst out laughing, relieved that he would actually be available to talk to you.

Y/N: I know a trick for getting rid of a brain freeze! Here, look at me.

Cove faced you quizzically. You opened wide, turned your face upward, and pressed your tongue up to the roof of your mouth. His gaze dropped to your mouth while his own mouth fell open. An obvious blush spread across his face and he nodded. You wondered if seeing the underside of your tongue was a little too scandalous for Cove. You closed your mouth into a cheeky smile.

Y/N: Try it. I promise it works.

Cove turned away from you and tried your trick with his mouth firmly shut. He sighed in relief and immediately took another sip of his smoothie. That earned another laugh from you. He smiled at you sweetly with a mouthful of smoothie.

The walk continued pleasantly for a few minutes. You laughed, and teased, and joked with each other comfortably. You both reminisced about the last mall trip you had with Lee and Derek, even though it was only a few weeks ago. Suddenly, Cove’s pace slowed and he came to a halt. When you turned back to look at him, his expression lost in thought. He absentmindedly picked at the side of the cup with his nails. You noticed tiny indentations marked across the styrofoam cup.

Y/N: Cove? Is everything alright?

Cove breathed out and walked towards you gently. He extended his smoothie towards your face. His face red and his eyes glued to the smoothie, refusing to meet your gaze.

Cove: Would you like to try mine? I think it’s delicious. I think you would like it.

Stunned, and a bit apprehensive, you thought deeply. You didn’t want Cove to miss out on the rest of his smoothie again. But this time he was offering. You wondered what changed, and hoped this wasn’t more piercing-related guilt.

Y/N: If you’re sure, I would love to. But promise me you’ll finish the rest.

Cove’s eyes snapped to yours and it was his turn to feel stunned. You never revealed to him that you knew he never finished the smoothie last time. He looked embarrassed, but you had to be sure he wouldn't throw it out again.

Cove: I— yeah. I’ll finish it.

That was good enough for you. You wrapped your lips around his straw and took a big sip. The flavor was different to yours, but still satisfying. You kept your eyes on Cove while you pulled away from his smoothie. He slowly raised the smoothie to his own mouth and took a quick sip, all while looking desperately to the side.

Y/N: Success!

Cove let out a nervous laugh, glad to have made that much progress. He was still blushing while you continued your trek. You wondered if his face would ever return to its normal color as long as that smoothie was in his hand.

You finally made it back to the entrance with Cove. His dad would be returning to pick you up in a few minutes, as promised. You both threw your empty smoothie cups into the nearby trash can. You looked out the glass doors and noticed the rain finally stopped falling. There might be a chance to enjoy the outdoors with Cove before it was time to face your moms.

You decided to wait outside. He stood next to you and sighed.

Cove: I’m sorry again.

Y/N: It’s okay, I couldn’t have asked for a better rainy day partner. Thanks for doing this with me.

You inched closer and smiled up at him. He grinned back, convinced that everything would be okay. You waited in a comfortable silence, satisfied with your own rebellious actions.

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