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#tyler rake x reader
charnelhouse · 2 years
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stop all the clocks
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Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader x Six (Court Gentry) Wordcount: 8.5K Warnings: smut. threesome. gore. torture. hair. rough sex. dp. Knife play. Summary: Aside from all the murder, their new life is like a damn Thomas Kinkade painting.
A/N: follow up to only the lonely but i wouldn’t say you have to read it
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; 
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; 
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood
WH Auden
In the mornings, there is magic hour. Six wakes before dawn, Lloyd just as the red sun peeks above the horizon. Six jogs. Lloyd runs. Both are washed and dressed as they cook up enormous American breakfasts. Greasy. Diner-style. 
You follow later, resentful at their ability to survive off a scant few hours. You’re not a morning person, but perhaps you’d be more of a morning person if they weren’t keeping you up all night. 
They pour you juice as you hunch over the kitchen table. When Six drops a pan, it clatters so loudly that you hiss like a feral cat. The boys exchange amused looks, and you wonder when the fuck they became so chummy.
“Somewhere between you sucking Court’s cock while I jack off or, you know when we have to strategize double-teaming your ass.”
Lloyd’s tone is playful - full of mirth, and you hadn’t realized that you’d spat the chummy question out loud. Your mouth drops open, and Six shoves a croissant into it. You sputter, swatting him away, kicking his ankle under the table. 
Fucking idiots. 
Still - your chest gets tight. Your heart rate picks up. The first snow is beginning to drift outside, and the kitchen is swelling with this amber-golden glow. It’s Colorado. It’s another safe house. It’s theirs.
Aside from all the murder, their new life is like a damn Thomas Kinkade painting.
***
It’s sort of normal, or what Six believes to be normal. He has never had a regular life. He had gone to prison young. He had only ever understood orders. Death. He was good at death, masterly at killing precisely. He wasn’t crazy about dragging out a mission, hated chaos though it followed him. 
Lloyd was the expert at pain. 
These days, Six comes home, not knowing what he will find. Sometimes it’s you on the couch, resting your head on Lloyd’s shoulder as they watch Netflix. Sometimes he will find you barefoot and propped on the counter, slurping soup. Chicken and Stars. 
“Are you hurt?” Your tone is ripe with accusation like Six hadn’t just gone out and done his fucking job.  
“A little.” He figures he shouldn’t lie. 
“C’mere,” you order before placing your bowl in the sink, the metal spoon ringing. He moves toward you, and you assess him with clear eyes. The moon shuffles its cool, pearly sheen through the window, over the tile floor. “Your shoulder,” you conclude before gently taking his wrist in one hand and placing your other against the inside of his elbow. 
“Stay still.” You peer up at him, and he meets your gaze openly. You’re terribly distracting, which he knows you're counting on. You rise on tiptoe and press your lips to his before abruptly stepping away and throwing your weight into his arm. An audible pop followed by a sharp, familiar pain. He groans, knees nearly giving out, but you are right there. His beautiful, anchoring weight. 
***
Lloyd supposes that this is his definition of normal. The sweetness of everyday living combined with the blood-soaked missions that pluck at the vital disturbed string inside him. It’s crepe Suzette and club sandwiches and then nighttime trysts in a strange cold dungeon where he tortures the information out of some sad sack. 
Or he watches you torture the information out of some sad sack. An image he savors deep in his breast. 
This is very much theirs. 
Back in the CIA, Lloyd remembers sharing his broken pieces with you. The disturbing things he thought and believed. His inability to collar his rage. You had seen it and not flinched. You melded so well with him because he gave you his truth, and you handed your own over. 
Such a thing applied to his brand of extracting information. Most of the time, he is successful with the violence. The teeth and fingernails and pounds of flesh. But there are other times when that just doesn’t do the job. He has to be charismatic. He has to share his vulnerabilities (or at least vulnerabilities that sound legit) to connect with whoever he’s interrogating. I show you mine, and then you show me yours. I promise promise you’ll live. Pinky fucking swear. 
Lloyd had told you things that he had never told anyone else, and as a result, there was nothing but naked truth between them. No need for an inquisition. No need to worry that his secrets would ever be used against them.
You know me, baby. 
With scorched veins, he watches you. Your eyes glitter as you lean over the guy they’ve got strapped to a chair. You murmur to him, whispering about how the pain will stop if he just tells them where the Prime Minister’s daughter is.
Once the info spills from the blubbering mess, Lloyd pays him back with a bullet.
“Jesus, duchess,” he practically sings. “That was hot.”
You laugh, waving him off as you move toward the door. Lloyd has other ideas. He advances on you, hand clamping down on your arm as he forces you against the wall. “Not so fast,” he purrs, flicking the button on your jeans. “Let me give my sweet girl something for working so hard.”
Your eyes widen, and your tongue wets your lower lip. Bingo. He sneaks his hand down the front of your jeans, gliding his fingers through the pillowy, soaked heat between your folds. He rubs and strokes, nudging that silk-soft entrance that leads to your cunt. You’re pulsing around the tip of his fingers - the throbbing furious as his own heartbeat while his gaze trails over your pleasure-ridden face. There’s some blood splattered across your cheek. You grip his shoulders, digging your thumb into the muscle. 
“Lloyd,” you breathe, hips lifting as he watches you come apart. He knows that they will go home after this. He will curl around you as they watch some shitty reality show. It will be perfectly calm. The secret of this dungeon will be a memory they bury somewhere else. He lowers his head to kiss you sweetly - as he would at the end of a fairytale.
His chest expands. His stomach flutters. He thinks it might be love.
***
The darkness inside Lloyd and 33 lingers, bleeding into everything they do. It’s good that the government no longer controls them because sometimes the job requires a bit more sparkle. A bit more pizzazz. 
Still, Lloyd would like to state that this was your fucking idea. Lloyd has to pretend to be a crime syndicate’s hired hand for torture while you pretend to know shit that you don’t. Infiltrate to gather information for an enemy gang. They’re paying you a startling sum. 
“I’m not a huge fan of hurting you, bunny,” Lloyd admits, leaning his back against his dove-gray headboard. He rubs his chin, feeling torn. “One thing to hurt you in bed when you ask for it, another to actually do it when you’re tied to a chair.” He frowns. “Helpless.”
You’re standing at the foot of his mattress, hands on your hips. You narrow your eyes before suddenly climbing onto the bed and crawling toward him. He sits up, cock already stiffening at the sight. You straddle his lap, easing your ass down on his very hard erection. “Lloyd,” you murmur. “I trust you. It’ll be like foreplay.”
“Breaking your fingers isn’t hot,” he grumbles. “If you want me to make it look real, it will be bad. I can’t just scratch you and call it a day.”
You lean into him, your tits crushed against his chest as his hands fly to your waist. “I trust you,” you repeat, rubbing your nose against his cheek like a big cat. It’s disarmingly adorable. 
He sighs. “I don’t like it. Six will nuke my ass.”
“But I trust you.”
“You keep saying that like it makes a difference.”
You pause, and he can tell you’re ruminating over something - hopefully a damn better idea. After a moment, your smile widens, and your tiny pocket knife appears out of thin air (where do you even keep it?). You press it into his hands. “Fuck me,” you demand. 
Lloyd startles. “With the knife??”
You laugh. “No, dumb ass.”
You snatch his wrist and force his hand with the knife to the skin over your heart, your perfect tit. “Fuck me,” you repeat. 
Oh. 
He smirks. 
Kinky. 
With his other hand, he reaches up to grasp the nape of your neck to hold you steady. You bracket your thighs around his own, squeezing tightly, and he flips you onto your back in a flash. He’s already naked, and you’re not wearing panties. Just some lacy little nightgown. He shoves it up, slotting between your legs, cock nearly breaching you as he holds that blade right beneath your throat. He notches right at your opening, teasing the warm, wet slit of your pussy. Your mouth parts, and he savors the way the head of his cock kisses your clit - your sensitive folds. “Okay, baby,” he drawls. “Okay, whatever you want.” He bears his weight before filling you to the hilt. He grinds deep. He thrusts hard.
You’re panting, cradling his sides, nails skating down his ribs. “I trust you, I trust you, I trust you.” It slips from your mouth like a prayer before it wraps all the way around him. 
***
There are days when the absurd greets Six when he returns to them. 
“We found kittens!” you loudly exclaim as you skip in front of him with two small fluffy creatures pressed to your breasts. “Come kiss!”
Lloyd is right behind you with four of them in his muscular arms. He’s grinning like a maniac. 
Six doesn’t want to tell them he’s allergic, so he smiles. Later, they have to give them up for adoption anyway due to the nature of their job. They can’t settle. They can’t stick to a single place. 
The only constant is themselves. 33. Lloyd. Six. Their unit. Their fucked-up triad.
Sometimes, he is forced to meet up with them in some dank, dark basement in some desperate city. He always loudly opens the front door, just in case they’re on edge. He doesn’t need to get shot. Not again, at least. 33 will stomp up the stairs to see who’s arrived. Black latex gloves glistening with new blood. Your eyes land on Six momentarily, surprised to see him standing there as if you hadn’t texted him to plz come help. 
You offer him a sheepish smile. “Lloyd’s on one,” you explain. There are screams behind you, down in the depths of whatever Hell Lloyd has created. The shrieks gradually trickle into whimpers before going silent. 
“Shit,” you bristle. “He better not have fucking killed that dude.” Then, you’re gone, rushing back down into the purple dark. Six doesn’t go down there unless asked. It’s their thing. 
He doesn’t mind. He prefers to have them in the light. All exits available to him.
***
In November, Six returns to the safehouse in London. The air is cold and wet, the black streets coated with damp leaves. Everything smells like rain. 
“Don’t freak out.”
That’s the first thing that bursts from Lloyd when Six steps through the front door. 
Don’t. Freak. Out.
Six narrows his eyes as the hair on his neck prickles. They had kept him in the dark on this mission. The specifics. He’d been given a role that he later realized had been a distraction. A total milk-toast assignment, and he should have known. 
You and Lloyd had been planning something without him, which meant they felt he’d disapprove. 
“What do you mean don’t freak -”
The words die on Six’s tongue the second Lloyd disappears back into the hall and reappears with you. His arm is around your waist as he gently guides you out of the shadows. In the light…in the fucking light…it’s so bad.
“Jesus Christ,” Six growls as he shoots forward, shoving Lloyd out of the way. His hands find your face, and he tips it up. There are abrasions around your throat and bruises along your arms. Blood has turned your silk dress to something stiff, and it practically cracks when Six brushes against it. Your lower lip is terribly swollen. Your fingers are visibly jutting from the wrong angles.
They were going undercover at some gala. At least, that’s what they had claimed. There are pearls in your ears, and the ruined dress is expensive, so perhaps that had been true. Had they been ambushed?
“Who -” He has to clear his throat because he’s seeing red. There is fury whipping into a fucking cyclone between his ribs. His adrenaline soars. His muscles tense. He finds his voice again. “Who did this to you?”
You try to smile, and it quickly becomes ghoulish with your bloodied gums. “It’s okay, Six.” You struggle through the statement, your lips cracking. You’re hoarse, probably from some goddamn son of a bitch strangling you. 
You dart a glance toward Lloyd, who has gone particularly pale -paler than normal. Almost sick.
“Who did this?” Six demands. Lloyd grimaces, and you open your mouth before abruptly shutting it. It takes him a moment before it falls into place. You didn’t. He thinks. You wouldn’t. 
Six goes rigid; his heart stills to a steady thump. He steps backward so he can inspect you from top to bottom. He knows exactly how Lloyd hurts people. This may be just a shade of it, but it’s a shade nonetheless. Slowly, he rolls his neck before settling cool eyes on Lloyd. 
“You did this?” Six’s words are bathed in ice. He’s surprised at himself. Surprised that he cares this much, but he does. Lloyd says nothing, but his features twist, and his grimace deepens. 
“He didn’t do it,” you cut in, staggering in front of Lloyd. “I mean, he did, but it was part of the plan. We didn’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice,” Six snaps. “I highly doubt torturing you was the only option, sweetheart.” He snorts. “Look at you - you’re fucking bleeding everywhere. Your hand - Fucking Christ, Hansen-
Lloyd clears his throat, pressing himself to your back as he stares at him. “Everything I did is easily fixable. No weird brakes. Very shallow cuts. I’d never scar her-”
“You are both out of your fucking minds,” Six snarls, and the two of them have the decency to look cowed. Six doesn’t usually lose his temper. He can bludgeon a man’s head with his boot until it explodes like a swollen piece of fruit, and not a single facial feature will change. Not a wrinkle. He steps toward you, grasping your chin and lifting it. His breath huffs against your mouth. “Do not ever leave me out of the plan again. Maybe - next time, I can convince you not to do something so laughably stupid.”
You bite your lip and then wince from the pain of it. 
“Are we clear?” he hisses. Both 33 and Lloyd automatically nod in unison, and, for a moment, Six feels as if he’s tamed some force of nature - some uncollared beast. 
***
“I need you to do this,” Lloyd tells you. “I want it.”
It’s his penance. He’s been a sulking baby since Six let him have it for torturing you. 
It was my idea. I talked you into it.
I don’t care.
He led you into this dim room beneath the house. A place normally meant for his victims. The cement smells like antiseptic, sweat, and blood. Lloyd’s tied to the chair. Naked as the single bulb above them drips yellow light across his milky skin. He’s got his thick thighs spread. His dark hair blunt against his paleness. His pink nipples. His dick standing upright - red and weeping. 
He’s beautiful. The chestnut scratch of his beard tinged with a spark of gray. The blue eyes. The sculpted body. The muscles in his biceps twinge from the uncomfortable position. He stares at you like you’re the sun - the blood-scented air in this room that threatens to engulf them. He knows your darkness better than anyone.
Better than Rake? The thought pinches at the back of your mind. Memories fall loose as scraps of paper in the meat of your head. Where the fuck did that come from? You bury the thought just as you had buried Rake two years ago. 
Lloyd makes a clipped, frustrated noise, demanding your attention. He says your name, and it trails down your back like his talented fingers. Calloused. Full of intention. You know what he wants. You slink forward, wedging yourself between his legs before straddling his lap. 
You grasp the bobbing length of his cock, circling your fingers right under the head. “Beg me,” you whisper as you press your lips to his brow. “Beg me, Hansen.”
His hips buck up underneath you, jutting forward, desperate for more friction. “Please,” He grunts as he tips his head back. He slides his lips over yours, his tongue delving into your mouth. “Please.” It comes out muffled, bouncing against the thrust of your tongue. It’s a frantic kiss - sloppy and uncontrolled. It tastes delicious. It tastes wonderful to have Lloyd so submissive for you.
“Please?” you echo, skating your nails across his scalp. 
“Baby.” His eyes are big and blue as the Pacific as they stay trained on your face. 
You position yourself over him, hitching the crotch of your underwear to the side before slowly impaling yourself on his cock. He groans, nearly choking as the room echoes with the wet noise of your cunt taking him. It burns - an ache that momentarily stings before it flares out into something else entirely. His hands are locked behind the chair, the muscles in his shoulders straining. You draw back to look at him, enjoying how his cock twitches and throbs inside you. The band of your panties digs into his length and tugs at your hips, cutting into the flesh of your ass.
You gently rock forward, lifting yourself only an inch before dropping down. “Fuck, fuck,” he stammers. Carefully, you nip his jaw, his throat, and shoulder. You sink your teeth deep just so he can feel it. He shivers and moans, jerking as the head of his cock punches up against something soft and tender inside you. You yank at his chest hair, causing bright pain spots across his surface. It’s a lovely chest - broad and well-shaped. You’ve rested your cheek against it more times than you can count, simply listening to the battering drum beat of his heart. 
You fuck him slow, teasing him with each roll of your hips.
“Don’t tell Six,” you murmur, leaning forward to steal another open-mouthed kiss from him. “He wouldn’t understand.”
“No - he wouldn’t.” He agrees, his lips twitching before they morph into an O when you clench around him. The chair creaks, and there’s no doubt you’re going to break it. 
It’s a messy kind of love. Fucked up. But - they’ve always been that way. Always stuck between two existences and somehow finding each other. He ripped down your walls and found your nerves, screaming cells, and raw places. He found them, grasped them, and held them up to the light. 
“Make it hurt,” he demands as he thrusts up into you. “Please.”
***
The thing is, 33 is not him. Not in any way, shape or form. You feel guilt profoundly though you try to act like you don’t. He thinks it occurred somewhere after you got older. Vienna? Fucking Gentry’s sneaky little influence? An unknown tipping point that suddenly made you feel morose. 
Admittedly, sorrow looks beautiful on you. It is just your flavor; just as a genuinely happy smile is devastating when you choose to present one. 
You’re already gorgeous, but that soft, aching grief that churns quietly beneath your features? Yeah - that does something to Lloyd.
They’re in Gstaad when he finds you alone in the library with a bottle in your hands. You’re drunk - fingers sliding up and down the neck that reminds him of you sucking his cock this morning.
“Shit, baby,” he’d grunted. “Eyes up. I want you to know who is fucking that pretty little mouth of yours.”
Gentry had been none too pleased, storming inside while you had Lloyd’s dick down your throat. You were running late, and Gentry was nothing if not punctual. 
“We have to fucking go. Wheels up at 0600 remember?”
“C’mon, Six,” Lloyd said. “She’ll suck you off too.”
“No.”
Court Gentry might be a robot. He compartmentalizes everything, including his sex drive. His cock can stay limp, his heartbeat stuck on an even line, even when their girl is ass up in front of him. Lloyd’s New Years' Resolution is to corrupt the son of a bitch. 
You’d swallowed his come like a champ before running after Six. They were supposed to take out some oligarch, which had turned into a spectacular mess. Gentry had called Lloyd ahead of time, which is why he isn’t completely surprised that you’re deep-throating a bottle of Gray Goose. 
“You know how to handle this shit,” Six had said. He could hear him pacing, the rustle of gauze and bandages.
“I’d disagree.”
“You’re good with her,” he argues, which makes Lloyd stop in his tracks. He is thoroughly floored at this rare praise. He didn’t expect this from Six - this hesitant declaration that he was a decent person with the woman they treasured. 
Lloyd cocks his head, regarding you with something. Tender concern, perhaps? He’s not sure. He hates when you go all broody and tragic. He doesn’t understand because he so rarely feels regret. Another reason he thinks Six is off his rocker for thinking Lloyd is good with handling 33’s mood swings. 
When you catch his eyes, you glare at him. Absolute defiance. Very you. You tip your head back to swallow more vodka, and Lloyd smoothly snatches the bottle from your hand. “No more, bunny.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s fair.”
You open your mouth before shutting it again. Unsure how to respond when he’d so readily agreed with you. He knows you want him to fight.
You wrap your arms around your knees. You look like a child.
He gives you silence, waiting patiently for you to confess what you need to confess. 
“There was a kid….” you finally offer. “A kid in the way. The bomb-“
“Yeah,” he cuts you off. He crouches down and touches your face, thumb catching on your lower lip. “Six told me.”
You nod, seemingly relieved not to have to rehash what occurred. “He left - ran off after. I think he’s mad at me.”
Shit. Lloyd would have to talk to him about this. 
“Not true,” he protests. “You know how our Courtney gets. He’s a softhearted fuck and doesn’t do so well with the comfort.”
“I don’t want to feel.” You’re slurring, your eyelids are heavy, and your nose is swollen.
You reach for him - arms encircling his neck as you yank him on top of you. You’re nuzzling his cheek - mouth smearing hot and wet on his chin. “Show me how to stop caring.”
You turn his head and catch his lips, pushing your tongue fully into his mouth, and for a minute, he returns it. He nips your jaw; he squeezes your hips. You whimper - shaking and frantic and his name burning in your throat.
He is full of fucked up shit, and so are you, but you’re really beginning to struggle with the guilt. There are invisible hands clasped around your neck as you drown in it. Lloyd needs to get you above water.
Reluctantly he pulls away, untangling you from his body as you make a soft, desperate noise. “We should tell Court to come back,” he suggests. “Maybe, make you dinner.”
You shrug, deflated, and then your eyes begin to fill with tears before you turn away from him. It’s the alcohol. It has to be. You rarely cry. 
Horrified, Lloyd pats you lightly on the cheek, offering soft, coaxing sounds of comfort like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. You cry harder. Finally, he gives up and collects you to him.
“We’re feeding you,” he announces. “Then you’ll feel better.”
***
Six falls ill. Very sick. Potentially poisoned, and you’re a mess over him. He’s wilting with fever, his tongue thick in his mouth. He can’t see straight. The ceiling blurs and distorts, and you cradle his head in your lap and hold a cool washcloth to his brow.
“Shhh,” you murmur as he tries to roll away. I’m fine. 
I'm fine. I'm fine. He wants to say this, but it won’t come out. 
You stroke his cheek, allowing him to soak your clothes in sweat. “Tell me what hurts,” you whisper, reminding him of his mother. His mom had fled that household long before he turned 13. But she had once been a mother. His mother, regardless of the short period of time.
“Chest,” he mutters. “Throat. Stomach. Fuck. Everywhere.”
“Lloyd is getting a doctor,” you reassure him. You brush his hair from his forehead, and another sharp pain shoots through his belly. He lurches, his hand around your wrist, squeezing bruisingly rough as he groans. “You’re okay,” you hum sweetly even though he’s probably hurting you. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
He vomits over the side of the bed, and you wipe the dregs from his chin. It’s startling. It’s so fucking strange. You can be so terrifying when you’re working - so calm and deadly even with your face splashed in blood. 
He thinks of unconditional love. He thinks about the people who were supposed to give it to him and didn't. You, Lloyd, and himself had been denied this as children, as human beings, until their environment had morphed them into perfect putty ripe for training. Hard. Cold. Weapons.
This isn't your nature. It’s not his. 
And yet…
You won’t leave him. He realizes this as he drifts away. You hold him like his mother, and you won’t leave him. 
***
Six starts dreaming, which is never a good sign. 
It’s a lot of you fucking Lloyd in front of him, which should be considered normal, except it’s always on a blood-drenched bed. They’re coated in it, writhing around each other, Hansen’s brunette head between your legs or his hips pistoning against your ass as you whimper and snatch at the soiled sheets. 
He often wakes up sweating, his lungs catching on short, unsteady breaths. He finds himself requiring you in a way that confuses him. He wordlessly walks down the hallway until he reaches your bedroom. He enters, quiet and stealthy, and sneaks into your bed.
The first time, you’d nearly shot him in the face. The second, you almost stabbed him. Gradually, you grow accustomed to his naked presence in the middle of the night. 
Six spoons you, burrowing his face into your hair, inhaling your scent: woodsy, musky, powder violets and sandalwood. 
He grasps the back of your thigh from behind, opening your legs before he slides forward and into you. You inhale sharply, your body locking tight around him. Your hand snakes back to fist his hair. It starts slow before gaining speed. There is the muffled noise of their skin slapping, the mattress creaking. He’ll grab your chin and tilt your face to the side, his lips capturing yours, stealing your breath for his own.
“Like that,” he murmurs as you whine low. You clamp down. Your pussy is soaked and warm as he surges into it with all the aggression his nightmares have left in him. 
Sometimes he gets ugly about it. Sometimes he hates feeling something for you - this scorching, terrible emotion for another person.
What if you die? They see it every day. They touch it. Taste it. It’s possible. It’s probable.
“Court,” you moan, grinding back into him, taking his hand and shoving it between your legs to feel where you’re stretched around his cock. He allows you to call him by his name. His real one. He doesn’t totally mind it anymore. 
He’s grateful for the distraction. He sucks up every minute he has you alive and fever-hot underneath him.
***
You are a smooth fighter. You dart out of the way, stabbing in quick short strokes. You are fierce and lethal. You never overdo it. Every move is calculated. Lloyd burns for it, but Six groans at the sight. Six mumbles your name when your enemy drops, and you turn to look at him.
It could be a god damn hallmark film. Their eyes meet, you smile, and then Six surges forward, taking your face between his battered hands and kissing you desperately. 
It is so out of character for him that Lloyd is momentarily stunned.
Finally, he shakes himself out of it. “Hey,” he growls. “Stop that.
They are deaf to him. Their lips moving against each other in a frenzy. 
“Give her to me!” he demands - tone sulky. “I want-
Tightening his hold on you, Six flashes Lloyd a thunderous look before lowering his face to yours. 
“Fine,” Lloyd grumbles. “I’ll just go fuck myself.”
***
It’s a mission to be handled on the dance floor. An underground club in Berlin where red light streaks across Six’s eyes and blinds him. He doesn’t want to do this, but their mark will be there, and it’s loud, busy, and chaotic. A perfect spot to slide a needle full of toxins into an arms dealer’s throat.
33 is buzzed or pretending to be, at least. Your body is clad in this sequined corset-top shaped like a butterfly. Held together by strings. Pink and pale blue and lavender. You’d chosen jeans and dark sneakers as opposed to stilettos. Still - it’s a ridiculous outfit and entirely distracting.
“Jesus Christ, you look fucking sexy,” Lloyd had crowed as he gripped your waist and hauled you into his arms. He crushed his lips to yours while Six tried to go over the plan. Ignoring him, Lloyd had lowered you onto the table - spreading you out all over Six’s maps of the venue.
“Can you not? We have to focus.”
“After I eat her out, Courtney.  You can join. C’mon.”
Six hates clubs. They’re difficult to navigate. The exits aren’t reliable, and people can’t be trusted to act accordingly, especially people on drugs.
He monitors the crowd from one of the catwalks. You’re dancing, tossing your head as some techno beat pulses and shakes the walls and floor. You certainly have a presence. Few people have tried to touch you as if there is a barrier between you and the restless masses. He wonders if they sense your danger - that you are an apex predator by all definitions. Sleek. Untouchable. A silver bullet. All teeth.
One man does try to grind up against you, and Six hears Lloyds huff through the coms. It doesn’t phase you; you dart away from the man. Your smile glittering under flickering lights and confetti. 
“Good girl,” Lloyd growls. “Thank god I made her come all over my face before this.”
Six tries not to smile. “Yeah - I’m sure she would have cheated on us with some random dude because you didn’t give her an orgasm.”
“Ha ha,” Lloyd returns, his tone dry as bone chips. “33 requires a lot of handling. Chicks like her need to be pleasured daily.”
“I heard that,” you hiss.
“Aw, baby, hey,” Lloyd croons. 
Six decidedly does not join in. He’s got to focus. 
After a minute or so, Hansen speaks up again, a whine in his voice. “We should have just bought a table and handled this down there. I’m so fucking bored.”
“Yeah,” Six deadpans. “The three of us together in front of hundreds of people would have been a swell idea.”
“Did you just say ‘swell’?”
Once again, Six ignores him. He keeps himself still above the ground, monitoring every last detail of the club and the arms dealer sitting by the DJ booth. This is his specialty. He’s already thought up twelve other strategies to take this dude out should Plan A fail. 
“Who’s that?” Lloyd mutters into the coms, and Six glances down at where you’ve suddenly stilled. You’re staring at something on the east side of the dance floor, and when Six follows your line of vision, he spots a tall, shadowy presence. The figure is in a black t-shirt and jeans. A haircut that Lloyd would probably attempt. Six squints, sneaking closer because he can’t tell what’s wrong with you. You’re frozen.
“33,” Lloyd says. “Talk. What’s up?”
Nothing. 
“Bunny,” Lloyd tries. 
Nothing.
“33,” Six barks. “Respond.”
“Sorry,” you reply quickly. “Thought I saw something.”
Your voice is audibly shaken. Six turns back to where the figure had been. He’s gone - the crowd had swallowed him up. 
***
You dragged them into your room the second they’d gotten home. Lloyd and 33 start fucking like the world is ending. He’s pinning you to the mattress, flipping you onto your stomach. He says something dumb, and you slap him, and then he sinks his teeth into your neck, but it seems you’re enjoying it.
“Damn,” Lloyd laughs. “Baby’s desperate.”
You are. It’s weird. Not totally out of the ordinary, but your touch is lined with panic. A frenzy. Something upset you tonight, and you’re not saying what.
Six thinks of the man. The scrawl of dark tats up his neck. He had disappeared and vanished into the shadows, which was a feat for a man of that size. There were other people considered “gray men,” of course. It wouldn’t be a revelation that you knew them.
After they’d taken the mark out, SIx had pressed you for information.
It was raining by the time they escaped the screaming maw of the club. You’d snatched a cigarette from Six’s back pocket and stuck it in your mouth. He helped you light it, watching as you inhaled deeply before scrunching your nose. “I hate smoking - I just -“
“Who was that?” 
“No one.”
Six knew to stop there. You were a steel trap. You gave nothing if you did not want to give it. 
“Court,” Lloyd yells as he manages to get you back on top of him, his knees curved over the end of the bed. “Get over here.”
Six steps away from the window to admire you: the arch of your back as you cling to Lloyd, the soft, trembling whimpers as he stretches you a little too wide. There’s still glitter in your hair and on your skin. It drives heat to his groin and makes his head heavy with it. 
Six undresses and then stalks toward them.
You’re on your hands with your knees spread on either side of Lloyd’s hips as he finger fucks you right in front of Six’s face. 
“She’s good,” Lloyd rumbles. “So wet. You can just slide right in.”
Six palms your ass, gripping the sweat-damp fat of it. He takes himself in hand and sinks inside you, not even caring that Lloyd’s fingers are already there. Hansen grunts, stroking and petting you while trailing blunt nails along Six’s plunging shaft. 
It feels good. Better than good. 
They’ve all coalesced into one thing. A single mass of flesh and limbs and mouths. Cock and cunt. There are no longer boundaries between Lloyd and Six. They go with it, unafraid to touch and savor It’s half a fight anyway. They’d tried to kill the other at one point. Now - they’re trying to ruin each other in new ways. Sometimes Lloyd and Six find themselves pressed together in the dark as you nip their jaws and tell them to kiss.
“For me,” you whisper when all three of them know it’s for Lloyd and Six also.
Now kiss and make-up. 
Is this some fucked-up Barney episode?
Shut up, Lloyd. 
Fine. C’mere, Ken doll. 
Six leans over you, bracketing your body, pinning you to Lloyd, His hips are slamming against your ass, and your cunt is wet  - dripping from Lloyd already having fucked and filled you. It eases the way. It makes it messy. Six looks at Lloyd, who meets his eyes. Dark. Hungry. His brow furrows, pink mouth parting. 
Over your shoulder, Lloyd grabs him hard by the back of the head and forces their mouths together. There is the click of teeth, the slick of spit. It’s erotic. It’s hot, to say the least, especially when the audible noise of his cock driving into you rings out again and again. 
“Shit,” you whine. “That’s so sexy.”
Lloyd draws away, his lips tugging into an arrogant smile. “You want us to take you together?” He nuzzles your cheek, his gaze still boring into Six’s. “You want us to fuck you at the same time?”
You shiver - your pussy fluttering around Six’s cock. 
“Please,” you beg. “Please - fuck - I want it.”
The words are thick in your throat - almost upset. Once again, Six thinks of the man in the club. He keeps getting distracted by the sex. You’re choking his cock, and Lloyd sticking his tongue in his mouth. There’s more to this. He can feel it in his gut. Something is wrong.
“Get the lube,” Hansen orders as he bands one muscular forearm around your back to pull you further up his body, so you’re nearly straddling his stomach. 
“For?” Six asks.
“Don’t play dumb, sunshine,” Lloyd quips. “Fuck her ass.”
Okay. That shoots straight between his legs. The command. The concept of having to fit inside you like that. They haven’t tried it together before. 
“Yes,” you melt, your hand shooting back to grasp Six’s thigh. “Make me forget.”
Six frowns at your choice of words.
***
 You saw him. You’re positive. You saw Rake. 
You think of India. You think of the green-yellow river rushing beneath them. Rake being a stupid damn martyr for some stupid fuck’s kid. Red had bubbled in the seam of his lips, and you had felt your heart stop. Your hand had slammed down on his own, trying to block the blood spouting from his neck. Innately, you knew that no one could have lived from that kind of injury even though you had hoped. You had stood there crying and begging him.
“No…no, Tyler,” you whispered as you shook like a leaf. You were cold. Frigid despite the white-sun beating down on your head. Sweat and grime and bullets. You couldn’t breathe. Gasoline was all over the road. Your vision was going dizzy. Vomit climbed up your esophagus. 
His head had lolled forward like it was too heavy for his neck. His brow met yours as he slurred out that it was okay - get the fuck out of here, and then he shoved you in the direction of the rescue helicopters with his gun raised. He took out whoever was left. He had been soaked in his own blood and had managed to kill a few more bastards. The last glimpse you had of him, he had flipped over the bridge and sunk like a stone. Dead. At least, you were certain he had died. His handler Nik had told you as much. 
Whatever you saw in the club had to have been an illusion. 
Even though you weren’t drunk. You’d been very sober. Maybe, a contact high?
You’re already fucked up from this. You’re drained. You haven’t slept. In London, you buy blow off some kid down the street and take it home. Six is on recon, but Lloyd is home, and Lloyd would gladly get coked out and drunk with you.
You find him watching a basketball game in the living room. His team is losing, so you skip into his eye line and then toss yourself into his lap. You cradle his cheek and reveal the vial of white powder from your cleavage. “Want to party?”
Lloyd lifts an eyebrow. “We talking junior year spring break booze cruise or sophomore year homecoming?”
“Homecoming,” you answer, tone growing serious. “We’re talking me finding you railing Hannah McDermott in the frat bathroom.”
He grins. “There’s booze in Court’s room.”
***
It’s all fun and games until Lloyd gets soft. 
“What’s wrong?” He suddenly asks. His features shift into tender concern. The lower half of his face is wet from your cunt due to eating you out on the washing machine. His broad hands still hold you open, grasping under your knees before he stands to his full height. Your pussy is bare to him, and he wants to talk feelings. “You’ve been off since Berlin.”
You groan and try to kick out of his iron grip. “I don’t need new and improved and self-aware Lloyd. I need asshole Lloyd.”
“Sometimes you don’t get what you want, duchess.”
Lloyd is nothing if not persistent, whether it’s trying to get them to take a trip to Rome or attempt some complex sex act. 
But - you’re stubborn, and this wound is not one you care to open. Ever again. 
You punch him hard in the chest, and he releases you, grunting with surprise. You drop off the laundry machine and escape to your room. 
***
The message on your phone tells you nothing and everything at once. It’s one of the guys from an old job. Not exactly an enemy, but not a friend. The man claims to have information on Tyler, and, foolishly, you cling to it. It’s too coincidental. How would he know? What does he know? 
Rake is fucking haunting you, and you want to be done with it. It’s getting in the way of your work. You’re so damn distracted that you can barely function. Lloyd and Six miss nothing, and you’re certain you will have to come clean at some point. 
I loved someone before you. I loved them a lot. 
So focused on receiving intel on Rake, you miss all the signs. The bright red flags. You go to a storage facility in Croydon, where an enormous bald man awaits you. Tons of rings. A sharp suit. There’s a startling prick against your neck. You fall forward, pain exploding across your face when you make contact with the hard floor.
“Huh,” the man smirks. “It really was that easy.”
They trap you. 
It’s so embarrassing. 
***
33 is covered in a thin film of blood. It’s all over your face. It’s in your hair and slinking down your arms and chest in branching rivulets. You’re tied to a chair; your lower lip is swollen. One eye is drooping. Your shoulder is out of its socket. 
“Jesus Christ,” Lloyd hisses. “Jesus Christ - that better not all be hers.”
The words out of his mouth are pointless. Or what? He thinks. Or what? How would he make up for it? They’d allowed you to get hurt. 
It’s definitely yours. No fucking doubt. 
Six places a hand on his bicep. It is firm and warm, and grounding. “Calm down,” he instructs. “She needs us on our shit.”
You need us. You need us. That little expression circles around Lloyd's head like a carousel: lions, unicorns, and brightly-painted dragons. The smell of popcorn and they’d gone to a carnival a few months ago. The most normal thing he’d ever done with you. A fucking date. 
Six appears implacably cool, but Lloyd has learned his tics and tells. He’s nervous - his eyes darting from 33 to the mass of guards around you. One has a pretty big knife, and another has a rope. There are more outside this room - flooding the facility. 
“You don’t think they-“
“No,” Six growls - his tone harsh. The first time it’s jumped an octave since they found you. He pauses - swallows thickly. “I mean, I don’t think they would…this wasn’t about that.”
“How do you know what this is even about?” he snaps back. 
They watch and wait. How did this happen?
You’d left the house saying you were meeting someone. You’d seemed flustered, but otherwise fine. You were capable of taking care of yourself, and it seemed implausible that you’d go do something so fucking dangerous without telling them. 
Then you disappeared for days after Lloyd and Six had torn the city down. Your boss called - thunderous. 
“An old enemy has her,” he explained. He clears his throat before continuing. “A few things have popped up again. A few surprises. This is being used against her. My contact is already on this, but I want you both there. Here are the coordinates. Get her back.”
What the fuck had any of that meant? The boss spoke in vague turn of phrase that drove both Six and Lloyd insane. Only you were really able to translate. 
They had little information, and now they were sprawled on a catwalk above an enormous cement room, watching you shiver and bleed everywhere. 
We have to be patient. We have to wait for the opportune moment. 33 would be pissed if they blew this.
This is what he tells himself. One of the guards punches you hard enough that your chair rocks backward. Something inside Lloyd cracks.
***
How this resolves is a strange sort of miracle. 
There’s this lipless piece of shit guard that won’t leave you alone. He’s getting too intimate about his touches. Lloyd can feel Six begin to lose it. The usually calm mercenary starts to twitch and grunt. His hackles rise. The muscle in his jaw jumps. 
When this fuckface caresses your lips, a dirty thumb digging into the tissue of it, Six curses. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”
The taut string of caution and hesitancy snaps and Lloyd and Six drop down from the second level. You gingerly lift your head and the corner of your mouth tugs.
“Hey honey,” Lloyd remarks casually even though they’re fucking surrounded.
It should have been a potentially fatal situation. It should have been bad. They hadn’t thought this through, which was unheard of for them.
But they were mad. They were upset. Emotionally compromised. 
Then an act of God happens.
The lights go out followed by the distant shriek of several grenades. The floor trembles. Dust flutters down from the ceiling. Screams. Shouts. The world goes wild. When the Emergency lights flicker one, it bathes all of them in a ghoulish purple-red. The alarms are buzzing. Another bomb explodes.
For a moment, Six catches Lloyd’s eyes.
Did you?
No. Of course not. 
Then who fucking did?
The bullets start flying. 
They fight dirty. It’s not as smooth as they’d like because it means something. They’re pissed. Someone took their girlfriend if that’s what she even is. Sometimes Lloyd thinks you are more than that. Not to get sentimental, but you had become his damn second chance. He’d be dead or in jail if you’d left him in that fountain in Croatia. 
He ducks and weaves, slamming his blade into a chin until hot blood coats his forearm. He whirls around, whipping his gun from his holster and shooting three bullets through another’s cheek. Bone shards flying. A gurgle of blood. Brain matter. Everything is hot and smoky and smells of cordite.
It makes him hard. Kind of. The chaos of the whole situation shudders through him, warms his heart. 
He glances at Six who is taking people out just like Lloyd. In fact, he’s never seen Six kill with this sort of ferocity. It’s beautiful. It’s devastating. He breaks a man’s arm, the bone jutting out from the skin. He shoves that bone right into the guy’s jugular. 
My god. 
It is a symphony of violence and when it’s all said and done and the floor is coated in gore and gristle, they can breathe again. 
“Wow - that was impressive,” you utter hoarsley before coughing. It sounds wet, which isn’t a good sign.
Six curses and rushes toward you. Lloyd follows. He swipes the keys for the cuffs from one of the bodies on the floor. The top of the guard’s head is cracked open like an egg.  
He moves behind you to undo your bindings, his fingers are feather-soft against your scraped wrists.  Six leans down - hand under your chin before he covers your mouth with his own. “Hi,” he murmurs against your lips and then whispers something else too low for Lloyd to hear. 
When he gets your cuffs off, he massage your wrists. You pull them away from him, haltingly turning around and opening your arms. 
“Lloyd,” you call to him - your big eyes watery, red, and full of need.  
Let me make you better. Let me fix you.
“Bunny,” he replies quietly. “Duchess.” He grabs you by the hinge of our jaw and kisses you so hard their teeth click. He can hear Six grunt about Lloyd being too rough, but you cling to him harder.
“We need to get out of here,” he tells you, nosing at your cheek, embracing you closer. 
You’re trying to even out your breathing. Your chest slightly hitching from the pain. 
He wants to know where you had gone. Who had fucked you over and stolen you from them? Do they need to ransack the place? Do they have time? Opportunity? It all runs through his head. All of his CIA training still hitting its marks.
Your fingers snag in his shirt. “You guys rigged explosives?”
“No,” Six says. “That wasn’t us.”
You shake your head. “This - this wasn’t about me,” you stutter, licking your lips. “I was bait.”
“For us?” Six replies, bewildered. He kicks a corpse's torso, and it crunches wetly. “Well - that failed.”
“No,” you hiss. You’re working yourself up, your eyes darting all over the room. To Lloyd’s dismay, he notices that one of your pupils is bigger than the other. “You’re concussed. We have to get-”
 Your grip on his bullet-proof vest tightens. “I think - I think I know who rigged the bombs - they told me they wanted him to come for me - they thought-”
The door at the end of the room creaks open, and Lloyd and Six whip around, guns raised. Lloyd shoves you behind his back. It’s a man - tall and broad and covered in blood with an M60 in his hands. He’s familiar in a way that pulls at Lloyd - dislodging a memory. It flickers away before he can snatch it. 
“Oh,” you whisper, and the man’s mouth twists, his brow furrows. His gaze knifes right past Lloyd and Six to land on 33. You make a startling sort of noise like you’re dying. Six and Lloyd share a confused look.
The man’s attention remains openly fixated on you. His expression is indecipherable. Did it momentarily soften with relief, or did Lloyd imagine that? There is no doubt that something is passing between this tall son of a bitch and 33. Alive. Raw. Heavy with an implication that kind of freaks Lloyd out.
This encounter is running too long for Lloyd’s liking, and he bristles. “Who the fuck are you?”
The man glances at him, visibly annoyed, before once more staring at the girl cowering at Lloyd’s back. 
At last, the stranger speaks.
“Should I be hurt that you didn’t tell them about me?”
The words are thin and ragged like he hasn’t spoken in a long while. His accent is Australian. But Lloyd doesn’t focus on that, he focuses on the inflection. The question is both an accusation and not. It comes out a shade uncertain or even awkward as if there’s a laugh beneath it.
Lloyd understands human facial tells better than anyone. This man is trying to be restrained, but he can still read him. He’s also nervous.
Lloyd frowns. 
He looks to Six again, who has remained silent, regarding the man with guarded vigilance. Sizing him up. Taking stock. The newcomer was bigger than both of them.
“You died,” you finally whisper, your broken body sinking into Lloyd’s spine, going slack against him. 
Died?
Reflexively, he reaches his arm back to steady you. You’re shivering. Teeth chattering. He needs to call their boss, get doctors to you, get you out of here. They had hurt you badly. It had been personal and he was beginning to suspect that this blood-drenched Australian was in someway responsible.
Lloyd is done with this. 
“You uh - you want to explain, bunny?”
“Bunny?” The man wrinkles his nose, his tone affronted.
Back the fuck off, fucker. She likes it.
You say nothing, and Lloyd turns around. You’re sweating, your skin cold and clammy. Your lashes flutter and your pupils burn out before you collapse in a dead faint. 
***
To be continued obvi. Lmk what you think!!
If you’d like to see what Lloyd did to 33 to get Six so mad then read this
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syntheticavenger · 19 days
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movement
I made this one so easy but can you guess the trope? Trying something a little different but we'll see where this goes with Troubled Tropes.
Soft Dark! Tyler Rake x Female Reader
Word Count: 1K
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of past sex, abduction, language.
Summary | High profile jobs are the hardest to leave.
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Fingers flex against the steering wheel, the non-stop rain pattering on the windshield that hits so loudly that it almost covers up the sound of your quiet sobs. The backseat is in disarray, papers blanketing the seats from your fury of trying to find the burner phone that was supposedly tucked under the seat. 
It’s only moments now until he arrives. Until they arrive, to interview you, remind you of the reason you’re here and bring you back to the place you left once already. 
Twice.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
Their patience would be something to commend if you were not on the other side of it, reaching with a shaky hand to press in the start button for the engine, hearing it attempt to turn over before reminding yourself to stay calm.
That’s the first paragraph of your handbook, your training that you spend weeks to learn. Keeping calm means seeing the cracks in your sanity before it explodes. The gun on the passenger seat is the only thing you can focus on, knowing it’s loaded with one bullet and Russian Roulette has never been your favorite game.
Your phone vibrates again, another number appearing on the screen before it disappears and then another follows. There are multiple trackers inside the car – some you’ve found and others you know you never will.
When the next number appears, it’s one you know, one that you trusted once before.
“This mission,” the female robotic voice on the other end speaks when you answer. “Cannot fail.”
“I quit.”
Your reply is shaky but enough for you to get a boost of adrenaline at the sound of the voice.
“This mission cannot fail. Authorities are en route to your location. Please remain calm. Your cooperation is most appreciated.”
Authorities is a stretch from what you’ve learned.
Pressing on the brake and pushing start again, the vehicle roars to life, giving you a sense of hopefulness before you accelerate.
-
“Mr. Rake,” the hotel manager greets, his hands behind his back. “I’m afraid there is a matter I must make you aware of.”
The guests at his table turn their head, Tyler wiping his mouth with a napkin before he nods for the manager to continue, who hesitates for a moment with the men who are also staring.
“Are you sure, Sir?”
“Anything you can say to me, they are allowed to hear, I assure you,” Tyler coaxes. “Please. As you were saying?”
“I just received word that your wife has gone missing from your hotel suite.”
Tyler nods, taking a sip of his drink.
“For how long?”
“I’m not sure, Sir. She went up there for a turndown service and reported back to me immediately.”
The hotel manager watches Tyler open an app on his phone, raising an eyebrow while his fingers move quickly on the keyboard, sending a message before placing his phone back into his suit jacket.
“I appreciate the update. She’ll be back soon.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Nodding to the men at the table, he stands.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to retrieve something rather precious. I’ll be back soon.”
Excusing himself from the table, he laughs to himself, shaking his head at the news before making another phone call.
“Prep the room,” he says, heading toward his car. “Make sure she has her favorite dinner prepared.”
-
The car is deadweight, sitting on the side of the road while you wait for the inevitable. It’s almost laughable now, seeing the city limit sign a mere few feet in front of you. It’s a game that you know he likes to play – giving you a false sense of hope. Going back means reliving every move you’ve made on camera. The itemized list of charges that will be read against you will also include your contract, the vows you’ve made when you promised to uphold the job.
You laugh when you think about it, a simple smile before you accept your fate. It isn’t a job anymore. You have to wonder if it ever was. Stakeouts were late – even later than you ever questioned to the point of lack of sleep and loose words meant sharing more than you ever wanted. Your hopes and dreams, meted out under the night sky and coffee in thermos cups to a job offer you couldn’t refuse.
The lights from the car behind you are blinding, your defeat well on your face when you hear the door close, footsteps approaching. The dead car you’re in now springs to life but you know better – the accelerator isn’t operable and for a moment, you list your head to the side, seeing the familiar face you used to see in your dreams.
And now in your nightmares.
When the door opens, the cold air and rain hits  your skin, your eyes on one thing.
The ring between his fingers is within reach, Tyler slipping it on your finger.
“Mrs. Rake, we simple have to do something about your running away. You should know that I’m everywhere,” Tyler reminds you with a slight shake of his head. “You signed a contract, remember?”
“You know as well as I do that it wasn’t real.”
“Oh, it’s real. You needed nurturing. You were a sad little case, telling me your sob stories, hmm? And I made it all go away. You liked the wedding, you liked the attention.”
“It wasn’t real,” you say through gritted teeth.
“Real enough for you to play along. Real enough for you never take off that ring. Admit it. You like the chase, the retrieval and how I ease that ache that spreads between your legs and to your belly.”
His fingers slide down to the juncture of your thighs.
“No one can fuck you the way I can. That’s why you run. Addiction hurts, baby. I know it does. But loneliness hurts worse.”
“I quit.”
“You sure did, baby. That’s why you’re mine now. Who needs a work wife when I have a real one?”
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drewvgue · 9 months
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I NEED more tyler rake fanfics im not kidding I read absolutely everything I could find
LOOK AT THIS MAN OMGGGGG
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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year
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Kinktober 2022, Day 24: Xenophilia
What’s Mine is Theirs
Summary:  you love Tyler’s accent
Pairings:  Tyler Rake X Reader
Rating:  explicit
Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, coercion, humiliation kink, unprotected sex, PIV sex, filming without knowledge, voyeurism, cream pie, claiming, 18+ ONLY
Xenophilia is an attraction to foreign peoples, cultures, or customs.
Word Count:  1.6K
Previous
Kinktober 2022 Masterlist
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"Oh come on," your friend giggles as she tries to pull you into a different bar. "I haven't seen Lance all day, and I know my man is missing me," you look at the blacked out windows of the bar in question. There was always something...off about Lance and his friends. They always seemed like it was a treasure to be in their presence.
"Tyler will be there," she gives you a smirk, backing up to the bar. "And Tyler has been looking for a special someone. He's still single, and a man that looks like that, won't be for too long. Come on," her body jiggles around, and you look back at the bar.
Tyler was godlike beautiful. It wasn't right to have a man that looking like that freely walking around. Everything about him from his perfect haircut, piercing blue eyes, tattoos, and most importantly that accent. Tyler was typically quiet, but when he opened his mouth and sweetly called you princess, you were ready to drop to your knees.
"Lance said everyone's there, and drinks are on the house for us," she tucks her hair behind her ear, and you spot a brand new Cartier Love bracelet around her wrist, and you pull at her hand, "Hey, I earned that. Lance has a matching one."
You start to open your mouth to protest, but she's already heading into the bar, "It's official now."
You had your reservations with his friends. Although, it was true he adored your friend, and treated the other friend's girlfriends and wives with respect, they all wore that same bracelet, well almost all. Your friend had been missing one for awhile. A bracelet that didn't come off unless you had a special tool. With a sigh, and a pit in your stomach you decide to follow her. Missing someone walking behind you to lock the door, and turn off the open sign.
You follow her as she pulls you to the bar, and a set of icy blue eyes stares at you from an upstairs room, "All doors are locked?" He asks, zeroing in on Sam who serves you a drink. Watching him like a hawk, he was not Jax and didn't need anything slipped in there.
"Yes, they're all locked," Ransom grunts sitting down, and pulling his girl over to his lap. "Batteries are charged, and all wires are connected. Now, it's up to you to get her in the room."
"What makes you think this is going to work?" Curtis asks watching you as well. "She's careful. You saw the footage, she struggled to even come in here. Being claimed terrifies her."
"It always does in the beginning. Find a girl that fits your needs, soften them up, and then send them through the initiation. They all become a puddle. They reap the benefits of the brotherhood, just like we do," Tyler gives you a smile as he watches you move into the middle of the floor. Your eyes watching every wrist there, and most were chained up just like your friend.
"Well go on. You waiting on the Professor to make sure that you can comply?" Curtis chuckles, looking down at his Yuki. She blows up a kiss to her man, before she goes to leave the floor. "You think she'll be able to handle your brand of kink?"
"Of course. It's not about pain, as much as humiliation. Their cunts are always tighter when they're ashamed. They're body less pliable, and you have to force them around. Have a good day gentleman, you too, Dove. I think Ransom needs another chase. You're making things too easy for him."
Tyler pops a mint into his mouth as he heads down to the bar. Judging by the cameras you were at the very least interested. Babydoll had used his name as a tactic to get you to come in, and even though you denied it, you still came inside willingly.
He hates reducing himself down to silly little plays, but he does. Running into you, and apologizing when your drink spills down your front, "I'm sorry, Princess. I ruined your dress."
"It's fine. I'm okay, and," you look up realizing that it's Tyler that had bumped into you, and his cheeky little grin has you clenching your thighs. God, he was so pretty. Disgustingly pretty, and you couldn't look away from him when he says your name.
"Come on, I'm sure there's some extra clothes around here somewhere," he gently grabs at your hand, and your friend smiles, pushing you towards him, before turning to dance with her boyfriend, and you turn to follow Tyler.
He takes you into a private room, where there was random costumes, and clothes. "You guys have burlesque shows or something?" You hold up a showgirl style outfit giggling.
"Or something," he answers, ruffling through some clothes. "Dammit," he looks at his reflection, before pulling off one of his shirt, and you catch a glimpse of his stomach, and there was even more tattoos. "Here," he wraps the shirt around you, helping you put your arms in, and ties it at the bottom.
"Can't even tell I made a mess of your dress. I can replace it."
You had never heard him speak so much, and it made you weak. His voice was so low and gravely, and that Australian accent had a flood of arousal rushing to your core. "It's fine. It was something I'd had for years. Your shirt is a nice touch."
"I like seeing my shirt on you."
"Oh, yeah? Where else would you like to see your shirt?" You were getting bold. A little bit of liquid courage, and some privacy, and it had you ready to do this man's bidding.
"Currently I'd like to see it in the floor," his calloused fingers caress your cheeks, and his thumb gently rubs over your lips. It was intoxicating. More so than the alcohol that was rushing to your limbs. Your body heats up, and you swear you stumble closer to him.
"The shirt I'm wearing, or the one you're wearing?"
"Why not both?" You whisper out a yes, and he reaches towards you, pulling up your dress. His hands immediately go to needing your breasts when he crashes his lips to yours.
A free hand snakes under your panties, spreading out your arousal, "What's got you so wet, Princess?" You whisper out a you, and pull of his own shirt. Your hands run over his chiseled chest, and he rips off your panties.
"Tyler!"
"You won't be needing those," pushing on your ass, he presses you up against him, and his bulge on your front makes you gasp, and you pull at his pants. "You're all the same," he groans, letting his pants fall to the ground.
With one swift move he lifts you up, and sinks you over him, and you stare owlishly at him when he bottoms out.
Walking towards a wall, he slams your back into it. His mouth assaults your neck, and he pushes your face over to the side. With his hands tightly around your thighs, he starts slamming you over his thick length, and that's when you see the camera. "I'm gonna make you a star, Princess," his hand reaches to a shelf, and he clicks a tv on, and you see your ruined face.
Tyler starts shoving you over him, cackling. "Yep, there is is. Your cunt is much tighter once you know they're all watching you."
Your cheeks heat up, and you whimper, "The whole club is watching you getting impaled by my cock. There's worse though, so much worse. You think you can handle all of it?"
"What?"
"We own you now. Fucking hell!" He grunts when you clench down tight around him. "All this talk about Babydoll and her bracelet. Pledging her loyalty to her man, and to us. We'll protect you. Give you a life you could only dream of, and only one thing in return?"
"What's that?" You ask turning to look at him. His forehead presses against your own, and you already know.
"You're pussy. Your friends does have a sweet little snatch. Sharing is not a requirement after initiation. They all want to share though. Why wouldn't you," he moves back to your neck, chucking on you, "If you weren't making such a mess on my cock, I would think you cared. You want this. They're all watching you. Some probably are fucking someone, getting sucked off, having someone ride their face. To the brotherhood," he screams as he stabs up into you harshly.
You black out from the way he ruts into you. He was so deep, and he knew he owned you. You were a wreck. Screaming his name to the heavens like a beautiful prayer, and just thinking about someone getting off on your pleasure, "They'll love you Princess, and you shall be mine. Always mine," Tyler is relentless as he buries himself to the hilt. A succession of grunts and expletives as he searches for his release. "Fuuuckkk! Are you mine? Say it. Say it, or you won't cum."
You try and think about what all that means, but come up blank. Only the pleasure he was giving you, but the prospect of not coming over this man's glorious cock has you ready to cry. "I'm yours!"
Tyler's cock is demanding, slamming into your wet heat, when you let out an otherworldly sob. Coming hard over him, and he shoots thick ribbons of his spend into your womb. Panting, you rest your head on his shoulder, and he carries you out of the room, still buried deep in you. Your releases dripping out of you when he shows you off to the group, "To the brotherhood and our precious Omegas!" Grabbing up a beer, he downs the brew quickly. "Princess, if you weren't fluttering around me, I would think you didn't like this."
"It's personal."
"Get used to it. What's mine is theirs."
Next
Masterlist
Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @infatuatedjanes​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @peaches1958​ @whimsyplaty92​ @rebekahdawkins​ @johndeaconshands​ @thedarkplume​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @sgtjaamesbaarnes​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @km-ffluv​ @mickeyhenrys​ @awkwardgiraffe726​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​
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chemicalalice · 1 year
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Fic: All My Words in a Touch - Kinktober Day 24
Title: All My Words in a Touch
Summary: He was a hard man, living a hard life, in a hard world. Words weren't easy.
Pairing: Tyler Rake x female!Reader
Warnings: unprotected PinV sex, swearing. Please be mindful of yourself and do not read if this content bothers you. 18+ only!
Word count: 1359
AN: Another bruised and broken man I love to give some love to
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He was a hard man, living a hard life, in a hard world. And even then, he still kept the worst of it from you.
You were a realist. You knew there were pieces inside of Tyler Rake that were shattered and no matter how much you loved him, you would never be able to put those pieces back together again. It didn't matter to you, though. You weren't looking to fix him. You loved him as he was. All you wanted was to be the bit of calm, that bit of softness, he so desperately longed for.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rake liked being in control. It was rare that you got to have him like this. This being drowsy with sleep and spread out beneath you as you sat astride his thighs, his cock buried deep inside you.
"Baby-"
"Shhhh." You shushed him gently, and leaned down to kiss him, feeling his soft groan as your breasts pressed against his chest. "Just relax."
It was early, the grey light of dawn filtering in through your sheer curtains and filling the room. Everything was quiet and still, the sounds of gentle breathing the only thing breaking the silence as you rode him slowly.
He was often brusque, almost cold, in his dealings with most people; not one to mince words or draw things out. And you knew when people saw this, they assumed this was how he was in all aspects of his life. But with you, he was different. He was gentle, soft, and you knew he tried to do everything in his power to give you the world. He was haunted by the ghosts of his past, the sins he felt he had to atone for, and the fear that he would repeat it all again with you.
He had loved his family, but that love hadn't been enough for his ex, to make up for his long absences or the darkness that would chase him home. He had been losing her far before his son ever got sick. Those experiences had left him scarred when it came to intimacy.
Tyler was not a man who could sit around idle. His work was an inseparable part of him, something you did not begrudge him in the slightest. He never turned down a job when Nik called, but since you came into his life he became careful, not using his work as a means to an end anymore. It was a good thing, you knew, something you were so grateful for, but your presence in his life also meant that every time you kissed him good-bye the worry that you would not be here upon his return was clear in his eyes. He was a man of action, not words. And no matter how many times you told him you loved him, that you would be waiting for him, your words couldn't chase that fear away.
Usually your couplings were intense, bordering on frantic, as if you would disappear if he let you go. He would have you on your back, legs over his shoulders, spread out as wide as you could for him; or on your knees, one had on your back, pushing you into the mattress as he fucked into you, grip tight on your hip. He would pull orgasm after orgasm from you until you were worn out, words and thoughts blown from your mind. Only then, after he was convinced he had completely satisfied you, would he allow himself to find his own release.
But in the nights and mornings after he returned from a particularly fucked up job, when he was at his most weary, when his guards came down and he was almost fragile, as fragile as a man like him could be, that was when you used your body to show him tenderness and to give him the physical touch you knew he was craving like the air in his lungs. You knew he listened to you whenever you spoke, loved when you told him you loved him, but it was these rare moments you knew he finally allowed himself to believe it.
"I love you." You voice was soft, and yet you knew it hit him like a punch when his hands shot up from the bed to grip your hips. He always tried to be gentle with you, to treat you like the precious and delicate thing he thought you were, but you would have bruises the next day from where his fingers dug into your flesh. You didn't care. It was your own little reassurance of his feelings for you.
"I love you," you repeated, one hand lifting to rest on his where it gripped at your hip, the other on his chest for balance as you lifted yourself up off his cock. He groaned deeply as you slid smoothly back down.
Tyler was big, and occasionally, if he had been away for awhile, it could be a struggle to take him inside of you. This was not one of those times. You were so wet that you had had no problem guiding him into you, settling your full weight on him and taking every inch of his cock inside of you quickly. It felt so good like this. He felt so good. And the way he looked up at you, as if you hung the moon, sun, and stars, only made you wetter. You had thought you were in love with others, before him, and maybe you had been; but never in your life had you felt anything near to what you felt for the man under you.
You wanted to cum. The feeling only intensified on every slide down his cock, when your pelvis met his and you had the sweetest friction on your clit as you ground your body against his. But you wouldn't. This was about him. Thankfully, you could feel his heartbeat speeding up underneath your palm and you knew he wasn't going to last much longer either.
"Tyler," you moaned, finally breaking his gaze as you tipped your head back, mouth falling open slightly at how good he felt inside of you. You wanted to cum so fucking bad.
He had his feet under him now, pushing up slightly as his grip on your hips pulled you down at the same time, the action driving himself deep into you. He breathing was heavy, matching your own, as you both worked your way to release.
"Baby, please, please," he begged, his eyes still focused on your face. You weren't sure what he was asking for. To cum? For you to cum? To hear again how much you loved him? How you belonged to him for as long as he wanted?
"Yes! Always," you gasped in response, a response to every single one of his unsaid pleas. Your head tilted back further as your orgasm finally washed over you, you hips stalling as you tightened up around him, your body vibrating with the rush of pleasure he pulled from you.
He groaned wildly in response and with one more rough thrust that drove him deepest yet, spilled himself inside of you.
You legs finally gave out as your orgasm faded and you collapsed down onto Tyler's chest, ear pressed right over the pounding of his heart. You could feel him still twitching inside of you as the last of his spend emptied from him. In some regards, you were the same as him after all. Words were wonderful, but you never felt as close to him as you did in moments like this, joined together, his warmth filling your insides the same way the arms he had wrapped tightly around you, holding you to him, warmed your outsides.
"I love you too. Always." His words, mirroring yours, were quiet and rough, almost lost amongst his harsh breathing. But they were utterly sincere.
Later, his phone would ring (too soon, your heart would cry out) and the world would creep back in, but for now, tucked in his arms, it was just the two of you, lost in the little bubble of contentment you had created together.
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Note
Congratulations on 7K followers babe ❤️❤️❤️ !!!!!!!
For the Smut Celebration...... It's obviously being a Chris Hemsworth girl...... So Tyler Rake along with prompt 1 😍🤩❤️ !!!!!!!!
Hello, my darling! Thank you so much! :D
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Smut below the cut, minors DNI!
Tyler Rake doesn't have weaknesses. Or at least if he does, he doesn't show them with any kind of ease, you often surmise.
Then he met you.
It was then that he knew he was done for where having a weakness he could conceal was concerned. When you finally give in to the roaring lust between you, it's your words that give him another.
It's all smouldering kisses and hands that blaze paths of heat over one another, Tyler's thick, muscular body covering yours, caging you between him and the mattress below. A hint of teeth skimming your nipple as he sucks upon it has your brain feeling fluid, the stroke of his fingers over your slit as they seek your clit evoking your gasps.
Reaching down, the tickle of your fingers across his abs sends a quake through his hips, your hands curling around the hardness that's been jutting eagerly against your thigh.
"Sink that cock into me. I need to know how it feels to be full of you."
He does so without hesitation, for if Tyler is weak for anything, it's a woman who tells him exactly what she wants.
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Lawless // MASTERLIST
Tyler Rake x Female Reader
Warnings: death probably...
Summary: When an old friend offers Tyler Rake a job helping her train a mercenary team out of young army rejects, he isn’t exactly sold on the idea. At least not until he hears what his cut will be. For a job with seemingly no real stakes, it seems like a cake walk. After that, he's free to go back to being a lone wolf. That is until he meets someone who makes him reconsider his chosen solitude.
COMING SOON...
Should I even bother posting these on tumblr chapter by chapter or just send everyone to AO3? Lol.
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artemiseamoon · 1 year
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Decided by Fate
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Tyler Rake x Destiny Rose Turner
Status: COMPLETE
About: When a wounded mercenary shows up at her door, Destiny is torn between helping him or minding her business. Once her decision is made, she comes face-to-face with aspects of her past.
An: started as a writer wed drabble now it’s a mini story 😁
Warnings so far: injuries, wounds, blood, fighting
Adult 18 + | minors DNI
Chapters
Tumblr previews + A03 links
One | read in full on A03
Two | read in full on A03
Three | read in full on A03
Four | Finale - read in full on A03
Go directly on A03, for all chapters: Go here
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Previews: x
Actress fc for OFC: Emayatzy Corinealdi
Moodboards
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CAST LIST
Destiny Rose Turner
Tyler Rake
Dominic Hall
Missy (Melissa) Hall + their son
Some unnamed background characters
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lazyjellyfish300 · 3 months
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DD part 5
Fem Reader x Miguel O'Hara who is your Uber Driver
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Synopsis- fem reader drinks too much and the bartender calls a random Uber for her which happens to be Miguel O'Hara himself. Her friends suck and ditch her. There's a lot of tension on the ride home...
Chapters: Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3 1, Part 3 2 , Part 4
T/W: 18+ only, minors DNI, some sexual fantasizing/arousal/tension, danger, insecurity, blood, cleaning wounds, age gap (reader 26, Miguel 34), inspired by the original comic
@mysteris-things
@averagefloydlover
@roserfz27
@latenightcravingz
Aladdin and Jasmine vibes! I can show you the world... 😏😏🌎 Or Edward Cullen coded! (Hold on tight spider monkey 🕷️)this one took me forever to finally sit down and do. Hope you enjoy 🖤 thanks as always for the support 🖤
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You looked like you had seen a ghost as you just stared at Miguel on your doorstep, mouth agape, clutching your blanket like you were clutching pearls.
The corner of Miguel's lip twitched up a little bit when he saw your messy bun and blanket cape hanging off your shoulders.
"Can I come in? I'll explain everything..."
"What the hell happened to you, Miguel?"
Your eyes rake over him with worry as he steps inside your small apartment, the view of his wounds becoming more evident.
"You look like you've been in war or something..."
Miguel makes a tiny scoff at that.
"Not quite, but it's a long story..."
Your eyebrows raise.
"You didn't answer my calls or texts."
"I know, and I'm so so sorry."
"Your eyes..." You narrow your eyes as you look up into his new crimson irises, feeling the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
"Who are you? My Miguel has brown eyes..." you back up and gasp when you hit the wall.
Miguel keeps stepping closer to you but moves his hands in the surrender position. His eyes start to plead once more.
"Baby, it's me....it's still Miguel, something happened to me at work. It's a long story but, I had an accident with one of the gene altering machines and it changed a few things about me. But it's still me baby. I'm still your boyfriend and if you let me, I'll explain everything..."
Your eyes widen with horror when you notice sharp talons protruding from his fingertips and the two more prominent canines in the front of his mouth as he speaks.
You loosen the tension in your body a little bit, but can't shake the unsettling feeling lingering in your chest at this new version of himself standing before you.
"I'm scared, Miguel."
Miguel whispers, "You don't need to be, I'm still me, I'm-"
He catches a glimpse of himself in your hallway mirror. He pauses and looks at himself, examining his talons, fangs, and noticing his crimson eye color for the first time. His jaw tenses, eyes closed, trying to fight back the tears of frustration he can feel starting to gather behind his eyelids.
You feel a rush of guilt at your reaction at first and go to touch his shoulder, but you notice a large cut on his right arm that's started to ooze a little bit.
You jump into caretaker mode. "Just go sit on the couch, let me see if I have something for that."
Miguel gave you a feeble nod and sauntered into the living room, plopping himself on the couch, rubbing his face with the heel of his palm. The beaded sweat on his brow mixing with some of the wetness from his eyes.
He was still shirtless and seemingly unphased by the fact that the laceration on his right arm had started to bleed a little more. His mind was racing, trying to wrap itself around these seemingly small, yet drastic changes in his appearance.
He was still extremely handsome. But he wasn't expecting his eye color to change. That part bothered him the most. It was the trait he got from his mother, and the part of him he shared with his brother and his daughter. Now, he felt strange, alien. It felt so personal, almost like now he was occupying the body of someone else. He quietly swore revenge on the bastards that did this to him: Tyler Stone and Aaron Delgado.
He zoned out while sitting on your couch, as though at any time he was expecting to be ripped out of this trance, awoken from this nightmare he seemed to find himself in.
You dart to your bathroom and dig underneath your sink. Makeup products, shampoo bottles, hygiene products, hair scrunchies, and old random medications being tossed aside on the floor in your frantic search. Then you finally find your first aid kit.
You place the kit on your coffee table and help Miguel wash off the cuts on his arms with some water, dabbing the excess blood away with gauze pads and applying some Neosporin and fresh bandages on top.
He watched your face as you worked and took care of him, how your eyes narrowed in concentration, and how you held your breath as you dabbed at his open wounds, trying your best not to hurt him.
He couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for you. He had braced himself for you possibly cussing him out and turning him away, still upset with him for ignoring your calls and texts and leaving you stranded on what was supposed to be a meaningful second date that you had put so much thought into. But, here you were cleaning him up, being so patient with him and concerned with his well-being.
While you helped patch him up, he told you everything. He explained the superhuman project that Tyler put him in charge of and how the young test subject died under his watch and how she haunted his dreams. He realized that he couldn't continue and tried to hand in his resignation, but then Tyler and Aaron pulled the ultimate betrayal and tried to kill him in the process. He described his newfound powers to you, your eyes growing wider and wider at the incredulousness of the whole story. You felt like you were looking down at yourself as if you were in a movie.
These things don't happen...
But, you listened earnestly, eager to show Miguel that despite him letting you down, you were willing to hear him out and do whatever you could to help him. But, the situation seemed to become more and more precarious than you originally thought as he recounted it to you.
You sat in silence for a few moments after he told you everything, trying to let the information sink in and digest it fully. A sick feeling appeared in your stomach when you realized,
"Am I in danger, Miguel? Do you think your boss would come after me for being your girlfriend?"
Miguel took a deep breath. "That's the part I don't know for sure. The news reported that I was dead, but I know Tyler. He's not foolish. He's smart and he doesn't do things half assed or leave business unfinished. He'll more than likely try and come after you or me, or anyone we know. That's why I need to try and convince my brother Gabriel to take Gabi and my mother out of state. I would've gone there first, but I couldn't live with myself if they hurt Gabi. This will only be just for a few days until I can make sure they're off my back."
He envelopes your hands in his.
"And in the meantime, I'll stay with you as long as I need to make sure you're safe. I know by me being here I put you in harm's way. But I won't let them harm you. Not as long as I'm breathing.." he wipes a tear that escaped the corner of your eye, his heart wrenching at the fact that he put you in this situation himself.
You can't speak right away, so you simply nod slowly, the seriousness of the situation settling in your stomach and flooding it with dread. "If you say so. I know when you broke your last promise to me, that you didn't break it on purpose... But I can't help but feel like I'm gonna lose you. What if something happens to you or me?" your lip trembles.
Miguel's gaze saddens and he squeezes your hands, scooting closer so both of his knees are touching yours.
"I'm not going to let it happen. I'll stay with you all night and all week if I need to." He presses a kiss into your forehead with a small smile. "Why don't we have a redo of our movie night I missed?"
He earns a small smile from you in response, and after holding him for a few moments, you let him change into a spare hoodie and sweatpants your brother left behind when he visited a few months back. He borrowed your phone and called Conchata and Gabe, pacing in your kitchen. You were able to catch some of Conchata's distressed voice on the other line, half scolding and half crying.
"You had me worried sick! I turn on the news and I see your bloody shirt plastered on the front of the TV! My son is trying to put me in the crazy house, ay dios mio...."
You felt your heart break a little bit when you heard the small voice of Gabi on the other line, sobbing because she missed her papa and wanted him to come home, and Miguel's gentle parenting side come through as he spoke to her in a soft soothing voice.
"I know, Bumblebee...some stuff came up at work and Papa needs to take care of it. Just for a little longer. And then I'll come home as soon as I can, I promise. Abuela and Tio have a fun trip planned for you. Can you be good for them and take care of them until Papa gets home?"
A small tearful yes came from the other line and Miguel felt a lump in his throat.
"I love you to the stars, mija."
He spoke to Gabe last and calmly instructed him to take his family out of state, anywhere as long as it was far away until he could be sure Tyler and law enforcement weren't still on his trail and targeting anyone he knew.
"Alright bro...I'll see what I can do...but bro, mom's freaking out. Don't ever do that shit to me again. I thought I was gonna have to take her to the hospital, she's been driving me up the wall. And Gabi... Gabi's a mess, man. I was thinking we'd go..."
"Don't tell me where you're going," Miguel hissed. "I don't know who might be listening to our conversation. Just get out as soon as you can, please."
"Bro, it's literally 9 pm..."
Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just get my emergency credit card from Gabi's backpack and pay for the whole thing. I'll take care of it."
"Say no more, I'll take them tonight."
Miguel rolled his eyes a little bit but sighed with gratitude. "I owe you big time."
"Yeah, yeah, thank me later. Just don't get killed and don't get reported missing or dead on the news again, kay?"
After Gabe hung up, he told Gabi they were going to take her on a surprise trip to Boston to try and get her excited and ease her mind about being away from her dad for so long.
Gabi perked up a little bit, wiping her tears as she eagerly went to pack her bag up with her favorite squishmallows. Conchata started to cuss again, but quieted down when Gabriel mentioned he'd give her a spa day in Boston, courtesy of Miguel's Platinum American Express.
Miguel set your phone down on the counter with a sigh and came over to you, taking you in his arms and you leaning against his broad chest once more, letting all tension in your body go.
"You okay?" Miguel kisses your forehead.
You don't say a word but nod into his chest, and he gives a small chuckle.
"Do you wanna go on an adventure?" He asks in a soft voice.
You pull your head away for a moment and look up at him with an arched brow. "What do you mean?"
"I wanna show you the city. But not in the way you'd think." He smiles at you, excited. "You're gonna see what it's like to be me. Show you a bit of what it's like to swing from buildings and see everything from a bird's eye view."
You scoff a bit and it turns into a laugh. "You're not serious."
"I am." He takes your hands in his, rubbing the back of them with his thumbs. "Do you trust me?"
Your smile fades slowly as you gaze into his eyes. There's not a shred of dishonesty in them.
"Yes, I do." You say softly.
He pulls you in and plants another kiss on your forehead. "You'll want to wear something warm. It gets breezy."
You raise your eyebrows but take his advice and go into your room and change into his black hoodie from the first night you met. When you come back out, he beams at you.
"You kept it! It looks so much better on you..." Miguel feels a rush of desire at the sight of you wearing his clothes and hopes the lust doesn't become too obvious as he looks you up and down.
Your face heats up. "Thank you..."
"Of course," he says quietly, taking you by the hand.
You two go outside onto your small patio and he looks down at you with a smile.
"You ready? You're gonna have to hold on tight."
Your teeth chatter a little bit from the wind chill and you nod, standing on your tiptoes, locking your arms around his neck.
Miguel smirks a little bit. "You'll have to get closer than that."
In one fluid motion, he bends down, grabbing the back of your thighs and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.
You gasp as you become eye level with him, straddling him with your legs and arms. The heat and tension between you two suddenly being dialed up ten notches.
Miguel goes breathless for a moment, staring at your lips. His mouth opens slightly and he tightens his grip on your thighs, wanting to just take you right then and there. He swallows after a moment and clears his throat, desperately trying to refocus his mind on the city below him to stifle his emerging hard on.
"Just hold on tight, let me know if you want me to stop." He says gently to you.
You let out a high pitched screech which stalls in your throat as he shoots a red web onto the top of the neighboring building behind you and suddenly the cold air is assaulting your face, rendering you speechless as the city below you zips past at a dizzying pace and Miguel lands on top of the target, jolting you slightly and you scrambling to retighten your grip around his body.
Miguel looks down at you and giggles. "You doing alright, amor? The first one is the scariest."
You pant, out of breath, your eyes darting around you, your brain struggling to register the unbelievable event that just took place. The smog of the city hung in a thick layer along the cityscape, just barely masking the faint light of the waxing gibbous moon.
The night lights and obnoxious billboards of Brooklyn are suddenly at your level as you marvel at the bird's eye view, the hum of traffic, faint yells from disgruntled citizens, and distant sirens vibrating in the distance, a soft stream of snowflakes begin to fall from the grey clouds above.
"It's... incredible." Your breath hangs in the air from the cold. "What is that shooting from your arm?" You look at him in disbelief.
"They're webs." Miguel smiles. "My DNA was spliced with a spider, and so now I've inherited spider-like abilities, including webbing."
You smile and shake your head, in awe of him as his handsome face looks back at yours.
"This...doesn't feel real."
Miguel smiles and leans in, whispering in your ear. "But it is. Better hold on tight again."
You squinch your eyes shut and brace yourself and suddenly you're being catapulted, again and again as you swing from building to building, the outline of the Manhattan borough across the south end of the East River coming closer and closer into view.
Finally, you two stop at the top of the J Condominium, a tall skyscraper just at the river's edge, the view of Manhattan directly across the fridgid dark water dividing the two boroughs. Miguel gently lets you down, and your jaw falls open as you walk a little closer to the end of the building.
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**photo taken by Chris Stevens-Yu retrieved from Google, the view from the top of the J Condominium building in Brooklyn, imagine covered with a thin layer of snow in December**
"Careful!" Miguel's arm reached out, a red web attaching itself to the back of your hoodie, yanking you sharply backwards and flipping you around, knocking the wind out of you as you collide into his chest.
Miguel barely budges, his muscular frame unphased as you gasp and wheeze for a moment.
"Sorry, amor. You need to watch your footing," he teases, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
After you catch your breath, you sigh, looking up at him a little miffed. "That hurt."
The corner of Miguel's mouth raises a little, still looking down at you. "Sorry."
"I hate you." you whisper sarcastically, slowly finding yourself growing weak as he doesn't break his gaze from you.
"That's too bad," he mutters.
He can't hold back anymore and takes your face in his hands, pressing his soft lips tenderly against yours. Electricity sparks and and kissing this man is suddenly the only thing you want to do for the rest of your life. All you know is the way he slowly begins opening his mouth against yours, scooping your lips in between his, you're melting.
You inhale sharply and run your fingers through the back of his hair. He mumbles your name into your mouth and holds you tight against his body as his hands make their way all across your back, squeezing your ass, feeling you and touching you as though the warmth from your body is responsible for the oxygen being drained from his lungs as he kisses you ardently.
And so, you shared your first kiss with Miguel against the New York City skyline. Two souls meshing into one as the world around you ceased to exist. The concept of time crumbling away as you felt yourself sinking into him deeper and deeper. The flames between you two fanning into a wildfire, setting your hearts ablaze, and your lives alight as you knew it. You wanted to burn this moment into your memory for as long as you could.
He moans softly and pulls away for air for a moment, keeping one hand on the small of your back, and one on the side of your neck, his minty breath tickling your nose.
"I'm in love with you..." he whispers gently, pressing his forehead against yours. His crimson eyes silently pleading with you that the only words to leave your mouth next are the reciprocation of his love.
But, as soon as those tender words hit your eardrums, a surge of bliss flows through your whole body as though you've never been so sure of something in your whole life.
"I'm in love with you too..." you whisper, your palms caressing his face.
He breathes a sigh of relief.
"I'm the happiest man alive right now..." his eyes coat with a thin layer of tears, and he catches your lips against his once more.
Your mind can only think of one thing as you continue to kiss him passionately into the night. You're hopelessly in love with Miguel O'Hara, and this is only the beginning.
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That same night, miles away.
A black, unmarked suburban lays in quiet, menacing wait in the shadows across the street from your apartment complex, a tall, burly man with curly brown hair in the driver's seat.
Tyler Stone is seated in the passenger side and takes a long drag from his cigar, his face still splotched purple from his beating. He scowls at Aaron in the backseat seated next to another brawny accomplice, and rips the pair of binoculars out of his hands with Aaron whimpering quietly in response.
"They're not even home, you goddamn idiot." Tyler growled.
Aaron gives a small groan. "How much longer, boss?"
Tyler exhales, a dark cloud of smoke hot boxing the inside of the dark vehicle.
"As soon as he leaves the little broad by herself. "
------
Part 6
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Text
Girls Can't Drive | Spencer Reid
Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Warnings: talk of sexual assault, sexual harassment, rape and murder. ends in fluff :-)
Author's note: Loosely based off Girls Can't Drive from Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies, as well as the Season 6 Episode 8 of Brooklyn 99 "He Said She Said".
Words: 3,208
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Working a case like this was always hard. But this time around, it seemed to be even tougher to get through for her. Five women had already fallen victim to a rapist. Five women murdered. All five women worked in the same company at one point or another, so it was only logical for the team to look into them. 
“Reid, y/n, you’re gonna take the statements from the coworkers,” Hotch ordered when the team was being informed about the case in the briefing room. “Rossi, Kate and I will go to the M.E. Morgan, JJ, you’re to go to the latest crime scene. We’ll be working from here.” 
Everyone nodded their agreement before leaving the briefing room and heading out to do their part of the job. Y/N had fallen quiet upon hearing the details of this case. Every case they worked was pretty gruesome, but none ever affected her in the same way this one did. Maybe it was the fact that these women were on their way home from work when they were raped and brutally murdered. Maybe it was the fact it was all happening in Washington D.C., where she herself lived. 
Whatever the reason was, her sudden silence hadn’t gotten lost on Spencer, her boyfriend of two years. 
“Hey, you doing okay?” he asked when they got in the car and drove to the company. 
Y/N offered him a smile that all but convinced him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired, I guess.” 
Spencer had let it go, believing that if his girlfriend wanted to tell him what was bothering her, she would. Instead, he focused on the case. The two of them walked into the company’s building, curious to see what they were going to find out about who worked there. 
They sat down with the manager, Tomas Ramos, first. Each taking turns, Spencer and y/n asked the man their questions about the victims and if he knew someone on his staff that could’ve done something like this. 
“Oh, no,” the guy said, “There’s no one here that could’ve done that. No one here would ever hurt anyone. We’re a very professional company.” 
Spencer and y/n thanked the man for his time and sat down with the next person. Tyler, the finance guy. When he was asked if one of his coworkers could do something like this, his words sounded a little too familiar. “Oh, no. There’s no one here that would do that. No one here would hurt anyone. We’re a very professional company.” 
Neither one of the agents commented on it until every single one of the employees told them the same thing. Spencer and y/n exchanged glances, which was enough for the both of them to know they were thinking the same thing. 
“I think we should talk to the manager again,” y/n suggested and Spencer agreed. 
As y/n sat down on one of the chairs in front of his desk, Spencer placed his hands on the backrest. “You told your employees what to tell us,” Spencer pointed out. 
Mr. Ramos furrowed his brows, though y/n noticed the twitch of his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re all just honest people who happen to share the same story. Maybe this is just your sign that you’re looking in the wrong place.” His eyes raked across y/n’s body from head to toe, halting for a split second at her decolletage before focusing on Spencer behind her. 
“In most cases, when people’s stories are identical, it means they need everyone to get the story straight to hide something,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. 
Tomas shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Agents.” 
Realizing they weren’t going to get anything else out of Mr. Ramos or any of his employees, Spencer and y/n left the company. There was something about this Mr. Ramos and the way he handled his company that stood out to the couple. They knew he wasn’t speaking the truth and that they were hiding something. 
“Do you think it’s him?” Spencer asked when y/n drove them back to the BAU. 
Y/N shrugged, sighing. “I don’t know. Every single one of those men was looking at me like I was a piece of meat and the handful of women that work there, looked too scared to say anything. It could literally be anyone working there.” 
Together with the team, Spencer and y/n looked into it further. The more they looked, the less sure they were of their profile and theory. Either all of the men in that office were guilty or none of them were and they were looking in the wrong place. 
“Y/N,” JJ caught her attention when she and Spencer were looking through the files. The thirty-something looked up at her blonde coworker. “There’s someone here that wants to talk to you. Uh, an employee of Mr. Ramos’.” 
Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as she shot a quick glance at her boyfriend before getting up and following JJ into the family room. A woman, around her own age, sat waiting for her. She was nervous as she picked at the loose skin around her cuticles. 
“Amanda?” JJ called out for the woman. 
Amanda looked up at the agents, her green eyes wide and filled with fear as she shot up from the small couch. “Agent y/l/n,” she said and shook her hand politely. 
Motioning for Amanda to sit down again, y/n took a seat as well. JJ offered her coworker a quick smile before shutting the door to the family room behind her as she left. This seemed like a conversation Amanda wanted to have with y/n alone. 
“I know I already talked to you this morning,” Amanda started, hands shaking in her lap. “But I wasn’t entirely honest.” 
Y/N’s head tilted slightly as she gave the woman in front of her an inquisitive look. “What do you mean?” 
“Tomas told us what to say if there was ever a police investigation of all kinds. He’s…” she took a deep breath. “The office is a very toxic place, especially for women. The women that work there are basically just a token to show the world that Ramos Inc. is inclusive. If it wasn’t for the feminist movement, none of the women would work there.” 
“Why do you work there?” Y/N wanted to know. 
Shrugging, Amanda heaved in another deep breath. “I’m good at my job, it pays very decently and I love watching those men squirm whenever I fix something they couldn’t.” She let out a soft chuckle at that and y/n couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of pride at this confident woman. “The thing is though… Because I’m so good at my job, these men think I owe them for it or something. Every one of my female coworkers feels the same.” 
A shiver went down y/n’s spine. She knew this story all too well. 
“Has any of them ever been inappropriate with you?” y/n then asked, but Amanda simply scoffed. 
“Which one of them hasn’t?” Y/N stared at Amanda for a moment. There could literally be a guy working at the firm she was working at that raped and murdered five women. “But Andrew is the one you should be looking at.” The words piqued y/n’s interest. “He almost…” Amanda swallowed her words, but y/n didn’t need anything else from her to know this Andrew guy was the one they should be looking at. 
“Do you know why he’s still working at the firm?” she asked. 
Amanda grimaced. “Because he’s Tomas’ little brother.” 
With that information, y/n thanked Amanda and headed out to the briefing room where her coworkers were still working hard on the case. Her brain was going at a hundred miles an hour, trying to piece everything together. Of course it was Andrew Ramos. She and Spencer had talked to him before. He’d given her the creeps then, too. She should’ve felt it. 
“It’s Andrew Ramos,” y/n informed her coworkers. 
The team did a deep dive into Andrew’s life. Nothing they found could pinpoint him in the area at the time the murders happened. Everything had been seemingly sweeped under the rug, no doubt by his big brother. They worked for two days straight on trying to find evidence that Andrew Ramos did indeed rape and kill those women. 
Y/N didn’t even go home while the others did. She needed to get this done. She needed to get this guy. 
“Hey,” Spencer greeted when he walked into the breakroom where he found his girlfriend on the second morning in sweatpants and a BAU shirt she probably found at the lost and found. “What are you doing? You didn’t come home for two nights.” 
Y/N sighed and looked up at him. She looked worse for wear. Her hair was messy, her makeup smudged underneath her eyes and she had exchanged her contacts for her glasses because they were drying out her eyes. “I need to get this guy, Spence. I won’t sleep until I do.” 
Spencer looked at his girlfriend for a moment. There was something that had rendered her silent when they first took on the case, but he didn’t want to push it then. Though right now, he really had no other choice than to ask. 
“Why is this case bugging you so much, y/n? You’ve never done this before,” he said whilst sitting down next to her on the couch. 
“It’s just… Remember how I was a detective before I came to the BAU?” she asked and Spencer nodded in response. “My Captain back then, he was kind of my mentor. When I made my biggest arrest ever, he took me out to dinner to celebrate. I-I thought it was gonna be the whole team, you know? We all worked hard to arrest those guys. But no, it was just me. That night he-he tried to kiss me…” Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes that she couldn’t hold back. “I just… I threw my glass of Martini at him and ran out of the restaurant. I transferred to another precinct the next day…” 
Spencer’s eyes glazed over as he grabbed his girlfriend’s hand in his. “I’m so sorry, angel.” 
Shaking her head, y/n sniffled. “It’s the same for so many women. Literally every woman I know has been sexually harassed. For some it’s on the daily… It’s just so hard being a woman sometimes because you just… men just think they own you and that you owe them your life and your achievements. Everything we do is for the men, according to them. And I just… I hate how there’s this one guy in this one firm that can get away with five counts of rape and murder just because his big brother can pull some strings. If we as women say something about the sexual harassment we encounter every day, we ruin the guy’s life. But they’re literally out there, murdering women.” 
With a sigh, Spencer wrapped his arms around y/n and held her against him for a hug. It only lasted a good half minute before he pulled back and got up, earning a confused glare from the woman. 
“Where are you going?” she asked, wiping her tears away quickly. 
“I’m going to get you a change of clothes and some coffee. After that, we’re gonna work together to solve this case. This guy is going to jail today, baby. I promise.” He sounded so determined, it put a smile to y/n’s face. 
Spencer shot her a smile back before turning on his heel. “Hey, Spence.” He turned back to face her. “I love you.” 
“I love you too, honey.” He looked at her for a second longer. “I’m also gonna get you a hairbrush, but you only have to use it if you want to use it.” 
With a nod and a smile from his girlfriend, Spencer headed home to get everything he needed to get her back to her normal self. The fresh pair of clothes, the hairbrush and especially the coffee made her feel almost brand-new. Which helped a lot in solving the case. 
Spencer and y/n eventually worked it out with the help of Penelope’s illegal sleuthing to pin the guy and get him locked up. It made the weight on y/n’s shoulders drop as she walked back into the BAU with Spencer. Never had she ever felt this drained after a case. 
“You did a great job, y/n,” Emily congratulated her with a smile and a squeeze of the shoulder. 
Y/N offered her coworker a tired smile. “Thanks, Em.” 
“Why aren’t you happy about it?” JJ wanted to know, her brows furrowed in confusion. 
Sighing, y/n shrugged. “I don’t know… It’s just one guy we managed to put away when there are so many other guys like that walking around…” 
“It’s like that with every case, y/n,” Rossi reminded her. “You did great. One more guy you put away.” 
A smile befell y/n’s lips as she listened to her colleagues, but before she could say anything, Spencer beat her to it. “Y/N’s just upset because the historically entrenched patriarchy has created a culture of victim-shaming that suppresses any power shift in our masculo-phallic system.” 
Of all the facts he ever ranted about, y/n didn’t expect him to start ranting about a feminist topic. It was the first time he had ever even shown such interest in feminism. She couldn’t lie that it surprised her in a very good way that would become of use in the bedroom later that night. 
“I couldn’t sleep last night, so I read some books about feminism,” he added with a tight-lipped smile. 
“I love you,” y/n whispered. “But it still kinda sucks that people like Amanda still have to work there and that women are murdered and raped every day.” 
“Look, this is a hard fight, but it’s an important one,” Emily reassured her. “It’s good that you rid the world of one more of those guys. Step by step, y/n.” 
The woman nodded her head as she let the words sink in. She had done a good job. Even if it was just one of many guys, it still was one guy less. With that in mind, she headed into Hotch’s office for the debrief. It was short but ended on a sweet note, with Hotch telling her how good of a job she did, only further reassurance of what her other coworkers had already told her. After her debrief with Hotch, it was finally time to go home with Spencer. Something she had been looking forward to since they started their super deep-dive into Andrew Ramos’ life to get the proof they needed. 
“Did you know that it’s two women who hold the highest IQ-scores?” Spencer asked her when they were lying in bed together, ready to sleep. He had been rambling off facts about feminism that he’d learned about when reading last night. 
Y/N, who was laying on his chest, turned her head to look up at him. “Oh, so you don’t have the highest IQ in the world?” 
“No,” he answered, “I’m glad it’s two women holding that title.” 
Chuckling, y/n turned her head again and began circling patterns on his T-shirt-clad chest. “I’m glad I awakened the feminist in you.”
Spencer couldn’t help but smile and buried it in her hair to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Is it really that bad for you? You know, on the daily?” 
A sigh rolled off y/n’s lips as she thought about it. “I can think of four instances that happened today alone,” she started. “When we went to get coffee this morning, the barista wished you a good day and he told me I had beautiful eyes before wishing me the same. Even when Andrew was being handcuffed, he was still eyeing me up as if trying to calculate how to make me his sixth victim. In the elevator this morning, Robert from the seventh floor stood behind me, a little too closely while there was plenty of space for him. And when we went to pay for gas earlier, the guy behind the till was so confused as to why I was paying for gas. When I told him it was because I was driving, he looked at me as though I was speaking a foreign language and he literally said “girls can’t drive”.” 
Y/N was almost out of breath from summing up all the instances. 
“Wow,” Spencer gasped. “I didn’t know it was that bad for you.” 
An airy chuckle erupted from her throat. “Yeah, some days are better than others, but it’s always something. As young girls, we’re taught to behave, never be loud, always apologize. We’ve learned not to say anything about it because society taught us that ‘boys will be boys’. It’s exhausting, you know?”
“I don’t,” Spencer mumbled. “But I am willing to learn.” 
At his words, y/n turned on her side and propped her head up on her hand, elbow resting just above Spencer’s shoulder. His golden-speckled eyes looked inquisitively into her y/e/c ones. “You’re amazing, you know that?” she asked and pecked his lips. 
“Mmh, you’re amazing,” he argued before she kissed him again. Deeper and more sensual this time. “You never have to apologize to me, you know that?” 
Y/N’s eyebrow raised. “Not even when I steal the last of Penelope’s homemade cookies?” 
Her mention of the homemade cookies Penelope had given them a few days ago made Spencer’s eyes go wide. This was her confessing that she was the one who had eaten the last three cookies in the tin when they could’ve shared them. “You ate the last ones?!” he asked incredulously. 
“Yes, I did…” she pouted, her bottom lip jutting out innocently. 
“You devil woman!” he exclaimed before attacking her sides with his fingers, sending her into a fit of laughter at his tickles. “How dare you steal those delicious goods from me! We could’ve shared!” 
Exclaims of ‘stop’ bounced off the walls, along with her laughter while she tried to pry his hands off her to stop his attack. When he finally did, y/n calmed down again and even faltered when, instead, he attacked her lips with his in a long kiss. 
“I love you, y/n y/l/n,” he muttered when he pulled back, his forehead pressed to hers. 
Smiling, y/n kissed his nose. “I love you, Spencer ‘The Feminist’ Reid.” 
Spencer was always able to get her mind off the case, no matter how tough. In this instance, he’d been the buoys that kept her afloat, the rock that kept her steady. He’d been exactly what she needed him to be in a world that seemed to be against her and every other woman. 
Thanks to him, she dared to be seen, she dared to be loud. 
Because girls can drive. 
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Criminal Minds Taglist: 
@boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips
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mycheersricochet · 12 hours
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Treat You Better | Hook
Hockeyplayer!Hook x reader
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Summary: Your bf gets traded to the New York Islanders, but he's a POS and Tyler welcomes you as the captain of the team.
Word Count: 11k
Warnings: insecure reader, gaslighting, cheating, allusions to sex (maybe? Idk there's a "steamy" scene but I couldn't quite get to smut which sucks. If you could read my mind)
Notes: there's quite a few scenes with the shitty bf. Don't know if that's a turn off but it kind of goes with the territory of reading a story. You gotta get the full picture. Hockey is not a huge focus but if you don't understand something ask or google it or just enjoy the idea of hockeyplayer!hook
Everyone told you to help him through his trade and just be there for him. But no one thought how this affected you. You had to leave your home, your family, friends, and even your job. 
Long Island was so far away from what you knew. No one was there to greet you as you arrived. Jake, your boyfriend of nearly two years, was told to fly directly to the game in Toronto so he wasn't there to make the move with you. You took a cab to the building where you now lived and you were met with all your boxes stacked in the semi furnished apartment. 
The place was nice, it had a big open floor plan and the walls were newly painted. But it had no personality. It almost looked like a bachelor pad with the black leather couches, brick wall, and bar in the living room. It would need some womanly touches that's for sure.
The first thing you did was take your phone out and call Jake to tell him you made it. But he didn't answer. You sent him a message hoping he'd get back to you soon.
Hey, I made it home. I miss you 💕
He replied with a simple thumbs up emoji and you tried not to let it bother you. Jake was busy and he was probably stressed with the trade. 
After a quick shower you got to work on setting up your new place. You wanted to have it as comfortable as possible for when Jake came home. The boxes needed to go first so you started with his things. 
His gaming system was placed in the entertainment center. His clothes were hung and folded in the closet along with his shoes. Some of his hockey equipment you left in the boxes next to the closet because it was too heavy. 
Next, you started on your clothes and took out a few essentials like your towels and warm throw blankets because it was colder in New York than your sunny town. By the time you had got down to bed you were ready to drop your head on the pillow and sleep for twelve hours straight. The rest of the things could be finished tomorrow. 
When you awoke it was too loud mutterings. Jake was home. You blinked awake and ran out to greet him. Your arms draped over him as you gave him a big hug.
"Welcome home," you told him, but he didn't return the sentiment and pulled your arms down.
"Hey," he said and looked around the place. "Why is this place such a dump?"
Your face fell, sure the place wasn't perfect. You still need to decorate and unpack a few more boxes, mostly your stuff, and then take out the empty boxes and bubble wrap you left behind last night. But it was better than when you arrived.
"I didn't have time to take everything out. I was so tired last night," you raked a hand through your mess of hair and ignored his scoff. You knew he was just cranky after a roadie.
"Alright well can you make a green smoothie while I shower?" He asked, Jake was a health nut and had a strict diet to follow closely.
Sometimes it was a little too strict, but it really paid off looking at his muscles. You grimaced however as you didn't have time to go to the store yet and nothing was in the fridge.
"There's nothing here for smoothies. But I can go out and get us some breakfast. I saw a cute little cafe around the corner.” 
He reluctantly nodded. "Don't take too long, yeah?" He kissed your cheek and walked away. 
You grabbed your wallet out of your bag by the door and put on your boots, then grabbed your coat to go out to the chilly street. The cafe bistro was just a few minutes down the street.
It was too cold for you though. Your shoulders were hunched in as you powerwalked to get there faster. You weren't paying attention when you crashed into a fit shaggy haired dude in sweats running in front of you.
“Oh sh-t, sorry,” you offered a quick apology. 
He had an unimpressed stare as he glanced over you and smirked, but didn't say anything back. He started running again and you shrugged. Your first New Yorker experience went alright, at least he didn't cuss you out and he was also really handsome.
It wasn't until you reached the cafe that you saw yourself in the glass door and realized why he was probably smirking at you like that. In the rush to get here you still wore your Care Bears pajamas and your hair was a mess. But hey at least your hair wasn't as crazy looking as the hoodie guy.
“Jake! I'm back!” 
Jake was sitting on the couch with a towel over his bare shoulders while he was playing video games.
“What took you so long?” He asked, pausing his game and turning to you to get his green smoothie.
“It was a long line,” you kissed him and he backed away wrinkling his nose and you remembered you forgot to brush your teeth. “Sorry.”
You turned and went to brush your teeth and go to the bathroom to fix yourself. It's not that you were careless about your hygiene, but you were so focused on getting Jake what he needed. He just got a little cranky whenever things weren't ready for him so you tended to forget about taking care of yourself. His only focus was hockey and you took care of the rest.
When you returned you jumped into his lap, surprising him. He groaned as he had to catch his control from falling and pause his game. But he didn't stay mad too long as you started kissing his neck. Soon you were christening your new couch.
You were wrapped around him as you lay back on the couch in your underwear while he stroked your back. He told you about his first game with the Islanders. 
“And the captain, he's such an asshole,” he complained. 
“What did he do?”
“He just thinks he's the shit because he's one of the youngest captains in the league. I told him about a pass and he completely wrote me off,” he chuckled. “But karma's a bitch. I think he injured himself.”
“Isn't that bad?” You asked. 
Having the captain injured so close to playoff season wasn't good and even you knew that despite knowing very little of the game. 
“Yeah, but don't worry babe. I'll get us to the playoffs. That's why they traded for me,” he said smugly. 
Jake was on a bit of a hot streak when he heard about the trade. It was still odd to you that the Kings traded him now. But they were the ones missing out. It was also good for you and Jake to get out of Los Angeles. You never really fit in with the WAGs there and there was someone in LA that you were happy not to be around anymore.
“I know you will,” you grabbed his bearded cheek and kissed him passionately. Yes, this was the best move. Here, you could be happy and no one could get between you two.
The first game you were going to was tonight. You spent the entire day getting everything for Jake's first home game. His game suit was picked up from the dry cleaners. His shoes polished and his gear bag by the door. 
“I'll see you later babe,” he kissed your cheek. “Wear the outfit I like, yeah? And do your curls,” he kissed you again and left.
“Shit.” 
You had no idea where your curling iron was, plus the products you needed to make your long straight thick frizzy hair curly were still in one of the boxes. It would take at least an hour to do your hair and you still needed to shower and blow drying your hair took another forty minutes. Plus, most of your clothes were still packed.
Why didn't you think about this before? Of course, your nicest jeans and expensive boots weren't going to be enough. If Los Angeles WAGs dressed to the nines you could only imagine how pretentious New York would be. Hopefully, the drive to the arena wasn't too bad.
You managed to make it just in time for the game and to meet a few of the other wives and girlfriends. Lexy, Ruby, and Julia welcomed you to the team with open arms. They seemed more laid back than the women back home.
For the first time since arriving in Long Island you breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this place would be kinder to you. On Jake's old team you were seen as an outsider. Especially since most of the women were still besties with his ex-fiance. 
“So how have you been liking New York so far?” Julia brought you toward the seats at the very front of the skybox. You didn't used to be allowed to sit there as they were reserved seats for the top players WAGs but everything seemed more relaxed here.
“Oh, it's good,” you smiled shyly. “I haven't been out much. I'm still getting the place together.”
“Yeah, I know what that's like,” Lexy added on Julia's other side. 
“If you ever need anything let us know. Let me add you to the group chat,” Julia touched your arm grinning and looked back down at her phone. “There, I followed you on Insta when I heard you were coming too, but you're private.”
Around a year ago you set your account to private. There was a lot of harassment toward you because of your relationship but you decided to keep it because it was how you communicated most with your friends.
“I haven't really been on it lately but let me accept your request.” You took out your phone and the three of you were too busy talking and looking at your screens to notice another person come sit near you guys. 
The dark figure caught your attention first. You glanced at him and turned back to your phone and back to him again. It was the guy from the other day. Julia noticed you went quiet and turned her head.
“Oh hi, Tyler!” 
Tyler turned to her and nodded. Looking at him again you notice how handsome he is and you blush. His eyes are hard but you see a softness behind them. He meets your eyes and you turn away quickly.
“This is Y/N, she's Jake Blasser’s girlfriend,” Julia tells him. “Y/N, this is Tyler, our captain.”
You're surprised that this man is the captain. He looks young but you remember he's one of the youngest captains in the league. 
“Hi,” you turn on the charm. “Nice to meet you,” you smile at him but he seems expressionless.
“Hey,” he says dismissively and turns his attention back to the game.
You remember that he got injured during the last game of the road trip. No wonder he's grumpy. Jake also gets this way when he doesn't get to play.
Julia sighs and whispers to you, “Don't mind him. He got hurt the other day and the team didn't want to risk it so he's a little grumpy. But he'll be back out there in no time.”
Tyler is quiet for most of the game. You do notice him fist his hands when he's nervous. And he also claps when his team plays well. You remember Jake calling him an asshole but you only see a guy who cares a lot for his team. It's obvious why he's the Captain.
After the game, you follow the girls out of the box. Tyler is standing in the way and he lets you and the girls get out first. You pass him and brush against him, catching a whiff of his cologne. He smelled ridiculously good. 
He leaves immediately after to go to the locker room. Significant others and friends weren't allowed in the locker room. The team still needed to do interviews and shower. In the meantime, you wait in the lounge designated for family and friends. 
“We should go out to brunch. To welcome you to the team,” Lexy puts her arm around your back and grins at you.
“Yeah, that would be nice,” you say enthusiastically. You were determined to make friends this time. A lot of your friends were in LA and lately you'd become distant due to them not liking Jake.
“Great! Tell me if you want to go shopping too. I gotta go,” she said goodbye and went to meet her man who waved at the girls by the door.
Ruby and Julia left soon after too. Jake always took so long to get ready. You were usually one of the last ones to leave the arena. 
“So how do you like the new guy?” You heard some footsteps outside.  The door hid you from sight and you didn't give away that you were still there. It turned out to be a good decision because one of the guys groaned. And another scoffed. You frowned because they were talking about Jake.
“You know how I feel about it,” another deeper voice responded. It was the captain you met earlier. “He should have stayed in LA with his supermodel girlfriend.”
The rest of the guys snickered as they left and you walked out seeing them turn the corner to the parking lot. So Jake was right and his captain was an asshole. But why would he call you a supermodel? You were hardly that beautiful and your fashion sense was non-existent. Maybe he was being sarcastic.
“Hey,” you jumped as you lost track of time. Jake appeared at the door and wrapped his arms around you. 
“Jake,” you chastised as he chuckled. “Don't scare me like that.” 
“Ready to go home?” He asked.
“Yeah, we're the last ones!” You grinned, chuckling as he tried to kiss you.
“I'll make it up to you at home, let's go,” he pulled your hand and you forgot about the prissy captain. He didn't like you? Too bad, you were here to stay.
Parties weren't really your thing. Especially parties specifically done to celebrate you were a rarity. Tonight was your welcome to the team party. Everyone and their partners plus kids were going to be there so you made sure to dress nice.
“Is this okay?” You fixed your outfit and asked Jake in the car.
He smirked. 
“Babe you look hot. I would have preferred your hair in curls though.”
You tried not to roll your eyes. Jake has a thing for your hair always being in curls. You had an inkling why it was so special to him but you didn't like to think about it. 
“You don't think I look too supermodel-like do you?” It was a stupid question and you regretted asking when he burst out laughing.
“You dressed like a supermodel?” He snorted. “Who told you that?”
“No one,” you played nervously with your hair. You didn't tell him what you overheard his captain saying. It would only cause problems and you knew Jake would not let it go. He could be a bit of a hothead and could hold onto a grudge. 
The house was full of hockey players as you walked in behind Jake who was holding your hand. He immediately caught the attention of a couple guys while you searched the room for one for the girls.
One thing you hated about these parties was how quickly Jake forgot how awkward you were around new people. Then he'd ask you on the ride home why you were so quiet.
This time you decided to let loose. You found Ruby making cocktails on the kitchen island and took one from her. The night was fun and you met a few of the other teammates. On Jake's last team everyone seemed closed off and you were never close to any of his teammates. Here, everyone seemed like a family. 
“So this is the grand tour,” Lexy twirled in her dress as we reached the kitchen again after she showed me her house.
“I love it. It's so cozy and chic,” you told her. “Can you help me pick some things out for our place? Jake's been too busy to go with me and he has better taste than me.” 
So far, he's hated every thing you'd gotten for the apartment. In LA, you moved in with him and he had a nice big house. Everything was modern and sleek. Later on you found out it was a project done by his ex and tried to change some things but he told you it messed with his routine.
“Of course, I'll take you to my favorite shops. Oh, we're going to have so much fun!” She seemed really giddy and drunk off wine. 
As Lexy went back into the living room to take some more appetizers, you stayed behind to top off your wine glass. Also, maybe eat a few finger sandwiches. A second later, you jumped like you were caught in the act when you heard someone else entering.
Tyler eyed you as you turned back around and ignored him. It was childish but despite talking to everyone around, he didn't get the time of day from you. 
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” you responded and sipped your wine.
He stood awkwardly on the other side of the island as you heard the music and mutterings of the rest of the party.
“Did I–” he paused as you gave him a hard stare. “Is there something I missed? You seemed annoyed whenever I was around you, out there?”
“No,” you replied, shaking your head like there really was nothing wrong but he knew there was something.
“Really?” He curled an eyebrow. “Alright then you won't mind doing a fireball shot with me,” he said, pulling up a bottle from the stack behind him.
“Wait what?” You asked, almost choking on your sandwich.
“Yeah, it's tradition for the newbies to do one with the captain. Blasser already did one on the roadie the other day.”
“But he's on the team.” Jake didn't tell you anything about this happening.
“And you're not?” Tyler half smiled. “Here,” he passed you a plastic cup like an inch full of fireball whiskey. “Unless you think you can't take it?”
You grabbed it tentatively. Something about the look in his eye like his was a challenge made you take a deep breath and take the shot. You immediately started coughing it up and Tyler laughed, unscrewing a water bottle and passing it to you.
“I gotta be honest, I didn't expect you to actually do it,” he said around honest to god, giggles. The serious captain was giggling but you were glaring at him with tears in your eyes and he laughed some more.
“You're the worst,” you coughed out, but you laughed nonetheless. 
The ice had been broken between you two.
Both of you stayed in the kitchen talking about your transition into the city. And eating chips which you found out was his favorite snack.
“I can't believe your dad set you on skates alone at two.”
Tyler shrugged, “I managed to stay on my feet. Then fell on my ass. It's on video.”
You laughed, eyes crinkling as you watched him. He looked cuter when he smiled. The moment was broken when Jake walked in.
“Hey babe, time to go.” He said, wrapping his hand around your waist.
“Yeah, let me just finish my chips.”
“You shouldn't eat that crap you'll get fat,” he says playfully touching your stomach and you shake your head with a small smile.
“It's just one bag, Jakey.”
It's awkward with Tyler in front of you guys. The tension is thick between them. Tyler closed off into an emotionless mask and Jake held your hip hard. You are thankful when Ruby and Ang come in breaking the ice. 
“You guys are going too?” Ang asks and Jake nods.
“Yeah, it's getting late. Come on babe, let's go say goodnight to Lexy and Cass.” He pulls you away and you send a quick wave to Ruby, Ang, and a small smile to Tyler who shares a small one with you too.
In the car, Jake interrogates you about Tyler.
“Did he say something to you? I'll kick his ass if he was a dick.”
“No,” you laughed awkwardly. “He just welcomed me to the team. He's actually kind of nice.”
“Nice?” He laughed.
“Babe, you're so innocent.” He told you with kind of a belittling tone.
“I'm not Innocent. I just took a shot of fireball,” you told him, pleased with yourself.
“What?” Jake looked at you confused as to why you were bringing that up. You didn't really drink hard liquor. “Since when do you drink shots?”
“Just showing I can hang with the team too,” you told him smugly and turned to look out the window with a small smirk.
He snickered. “I think a glass of wine will do like the other WAGs. You don't have to do shots. I didn't,” he shrugged. 
“But to welcome you to the team?”
Jake looked confused then smirked. “See babe, you're so innocent. Can't leave you alone for a minute.”
Jake reached a hand under your chin playfully and you felt a bit stupid. Tyler was only messing with you. He wasn't really welcoming you to the team.
Tonight's home game was a late kickoff on a weekday so a lot of the players' families weren't around. You were there but you had nowhere to be tomorrow. In addition, you were getting bored of sitting around at home. You had no work to keep you busy and no family around to keep you company.
“Hey,” Tyler gave you a warm smile as he sat next to you at the front of the nearly empty skybox. He was in his team hoodie and track pants. “I was hoping you were here. I wasn't sure you were coming.”
At first, you thought he was being sarcastic, but when you looked at him you saw he was being sincere. He did seem to be glad to see you here so you smiled back.
“I wouldn't miss it. I don't really have anything else to do anyway,” you shrugged deprecatingly. 
“How have you been adjusting to the move?” He was the first one to ask how you felt. 
Everyone else assumes you were fine and Jake had already been through two trades before so he didn't really know how it affected you.
“I don't know what I'm doing to be honest,” you tugged a loose strand of your hair back distractedly. “Jake said I don't have to worry about getting back to work, but I kind of want to do my own thing. You know?” Tyler nodded empathetically. “I don't want my whole life revolving around him.”
“What type of work were you into back in LA?” 
You were going to answer but somehow you remembered how he called you a supermodel and how you should go back to LA. So you thought about messing with him a little.
“Modeling.”
“Well, you're in New York. You can get a job here.”
You tried to hold in your giggles but burst out laughing.
“What?” He half grinned.
“You really think I'm a supermodel, don't you?” you said through giggles. 
Tyler stared at you confused then it hit him what he said after he first met you.
“You heard me?” He looked ashamed.
You nodded but smiled at him. You weren't mad at him or hurt really. Simply confused why he said that. Maybe a little flattered, he thought you were that pretty.
“You didn't sound too happy about us moving here. But I get it, kind of. Mostly, I don't know why you would believe I look anything like a supermodel,” you snorted.
He frowned.
“Why not? I think you'll fit in great on Vogue or whatever magazine. But I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to make you feel unwelcome.”
“So that fireball shot last Saturday was your way of making it up? I know Jake didn't have to take one.”
He grinned, at being caught. “To be fair, I just wanted to break the ice with you.”
“Why is it so important to break the ice with me?”
“Hey Hook!” You heard someone yell out and Tyler turned his head. Making you notice how close your faces were to each other in order to hear yourselves over the noise of the arena. “Coach, wants to talk to you.”
Tyler nodded to the trainer and turned to you. 
“Sorry, I gotta go.”
You watched him go and admired how he treated service attendants in the skybox as he exited. He seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. Jake's former captain never even talked to you or welcomed you to the team.
Jake went out with his teammates after the game. He invited you to go with them but you decided to head back home. It would be good for him to interact with his teammates outside of the hockey rink.
Sitting back in your PJs you scrolled through your phone and did something you never really did. Google Jake's teammates. Okay, just Tyler. You found out he was a second generation star and his father also played for the Islanders. 
Somehow you found yourself on Tumblr where he was very popular by the amount of fanfiction you scrolled through. But a few posts caught your eye from a few Puck Bunny slash hockey gossip blogs. 
Now you usually avoid those blogs. The only one you stalked was earlier in your relationship and they were tearing you to shreds. You cried and almost broke up with Jake over the phone while he was on the road because you thought he was cheating. But you were stronger now and this time you were reading about Tyler.
But it seemed they didn't know much about him. Apparently he hadn't had a public girlfriend in years. There was only one picture of him and his ex and he looked really happy in one of those stereotypical couples poses in the mirror. The girl was really pretty and exactly the type you'd imagine he'd go for.
As was usual there were the usual people claiming to have hooked up with him. All had positive reviews of him. Saying he was a cool guy but looking for nothing serious. And he didn't really answer DMs since he wasn't very active online.
There were also pictures of him in the locker room. He was lean and fit, as you expected but he had muscles that you didn't really notice with his baggy hoodies and sweatpants. He also didn't really talk a lot but that was common for several hockey players. They tended to hate talking to reporters or whenever they had a camera on them in general. 
After a few videos you decided to close out the tab and delete your history. It felt like you were doing something wrong looking into him like this. What he did was none of your business and it was a little weird now that you knew him personally. You glanced at the time and noticed it was already one AM and Jake would be home soon. 
Yu hoped he would manage to break the ice with his teammates and make friends with some of them. His transition into the team hadn't been easy from what he's told you. Maybe he just needed some time to bond with his captain. Tyler was really nice, maybe they just got off on the wrong foot.
Alright so maybe not everything could be settled with a couple drinks. Jake was not happy when he came home from practice. He slammed his bag down on the floor as soon as he got in and pulled out one of his beers he kept in the back. 
“Jakey, what's wrong?” You approached him and touched his shoulders.  
“Captain asshole,” he threw the cap of his beer into the sink harshly. “And his little clique of ‘lads’,” he spat then took a swing of his beer.
You sighed. “Maybe you just need one on one time with him. Why don't we invite him for dinner?”
You don't know why you offered. You never told Jake to invite his teammates over.
Jake grimaced then sneered.
“Hell no. I don't want him in my house. It's too bad he lives in this building too,” he shook his head, and turned away as he walked off drinking his beer.
That was news to you, but it made sense why you crossed paths with him on your first day here. Tyler never mentioned it but then again you haven't spoken to him that often.
The Islanders game was in an hour and you were going to be late. There's no way you were going to get to the other side of the city on a game day and during Friday rush hour. 
You still get lost since you tried your best not to have to leave the house. Which was easy since you had nowhere to go and no one to see. Except today you decided to go to a museum out of the blue.
Where are you? I thought we were going to have drinks before the game :( - Julia
I'm trying to get a Lyft. And I'm lost 😭 - You
Share your location with me - Julia
You did so and waited on a bus bench. You could hear Jake in your ear chastising you for being so dumb and getting lost. He could not find out.
You're lucky. Tyler is near there. Stay there buttercup he's coming for you 🙂 - Julia
A sleek black car stopped in front of you and you looked up to see Tyler sliding the window down. He gave you a small smile as you got in the car.
“Are you wearing a suit?” You blurted as you immediately noticed the blazer and tie.
A small blush marked his cheeks as he turned away and pulled into traffic.
“I had to. I was doing press at the NHL offices today. And it's game day. I've been told recently that I don't look like a Captain so,” he emphasized by waving his hand off the steering wheel.
You chuckled. “Who told you that? You are exactly the image of a Captain.”
He shook his head thinking you weren't being serious.
“You are! You're overly serious outside of talking up your team and you get so riled up when you watch them play.”
He glanced at you with surprise in his eyes. 
“I didn't know you were watching me that closely,” he said in a deep baritone that gave you a small shiver.
Comfortable silence fell over the car. 
“So can I ask what you were doing over here?”
“It's kind of a secret,” you played with your hands nervously. 
“A secret?”
“Don't tell Jake but I went to an interview earlier.” 
“That's great! So how'd it go?” He glanced at you to continue.
“I think it went well. They're going to call me about a second interview.”
“Well I'm glad you're getting back out there. But why don't you want to tell Blasser?”
“I just don't know if he's going to like the idea.”
“Why wouldn't he be? If you were my girl, I'd want you to be happy.” The way he said “my girl” made you feel warm inside.
“He just wants me to take it easy.”
“Take it easy?” 
“Jake doesn’t like to see me stressing.”
“Don't worry, I won't tell him,” he smiled.
“So how are you and Jake getting along?”
The air turned tense. 
“I take it you also don't get along with him very well.” Tyler didn't reply. “What is it with you guys?” You chuckled. “Should I lock you in a room together?”
Tyler chuckled humorlessly. “I don't think you'd want that.”
You watched him quietly as he kept driving. His watch shines in the sunset.  
“I'm glad we are friends at least.”
He looked at you earnestly. “Me too.”
Jake's sister Jenny was coming to New York this week. She was very particular about things so you were already on edge. 
“What hotel is she staying at?” Jake watched you strangely in the mirror where he was finishing brushing his teeth.
He spit into the sink and looked at you to answer your question as you stood by the door in your PJs. “She's staying here. I'm not putting her in a hotel.”
“What? But the guest room is not ready yet. We got the boxes we haven't unpacked in there.” 
Jake shrugged as he passed you to walk across the hall to your bedroom. “Jenny will be fine with some boxes in the corner for a few days.”
You weren't so sure about that so by 9am the next morning you were cleaning out the room. The things you didn't know where to store went into the hallway closet. 
All it needed was a fresh coat of paint for the walls. Since there was still a few days before she was due to arrive you decided to order some paint cans and get to work. It was still airy outside so opening the windows during the day would be enough to air out the room.
However, as was the case for Jenny she surprised you by arriving two days earlier. 
“Jenny,” you watched her with your mouth open in surprise as she gave you a quick hug and let herself in. 
“Hii,” her high pitched girly voice reminding you of the mean girls you see in movies. “Where's Jake?” 
“He's at practice,” you shifted in your oversized crewneck and loose sweatpants. You weren't ready for company. “We thought you were coming on Friday.”
Jenny made herself at home in your kitchen. Picking through the things you had on the counter decorating the kitchen. Her face pinched, showing her distaste.
“Yeah, well I saw an earlier flight and texted Jake last night maybe. He didn't tell you?” She smirked like this was funny to her. 
“No, he must have forgotten.” Dammit Jake.
“About me?” She motioned to herself. “Never,” she grinned. “You probably didn't notice or you don't care,” she pouted.
“I care,” you smiled uncomfortably. “Anyway, forget it. Come see the guest room. I just finished decorating it a few days ago.”
She grinned and took your hand as you took her down the hall. Your heart beat nervously waiting for her reaction.
“Oh,” she said, clearly disappointed. “This is nice.”
You tried not to show her how your face fell. Of course she didn't like it. Thankfully you were spared the awkwardness as you both heard the door bang shut.
“Hey, I'm home,” Jake called as he came in and set his equipment bag down on the floor next to the door.
Jenny went out to the hall running and squealing in excitement as she fell into her brother's open arms. 
“Jakey!”
“Hey sis,” he hugged her back and looked back at you, mouthing sorry as you rolled your eyes at him.
“Guess what?” She exclaimed. “I convinced mom and dad to come this weekend too.”
No…you weren't ready for their daughter. You could imagine how Jake's mom would react to the apartment. 
The entire family was full of perfectionists. Jake's mom and dad did everything to get their son into the NHL. And they expected the all star treatment whenever they came into town. 
“Cool,” Jake shrugged and sat his ass down on the couch to play video games. “Babe, can you make sure my mom gets the care package I always get her. I don't know who to call since we moved here.”
“Oh, and dad wants to golf at some popular club in the city. I forgot the name,” Jenny informed you offhandedly as she sat down next to Jake. “By the way, Jakey,” she said sweetly and you imagined she was going to ask her brother for another car since she recently crashed the one he gave her last summer.
In the meantime, you went into the room to try to get a day pass at the prestigious golf club you were sure Jake's dad would love. And to look up where to get the usual expensive care products his mom was accustomed to getting whenever she came to visit. 
When you finally finished making some calls you headed into the kitchen to start on dinner. You paused on the way as you heard the siblings talking in the living room.
“She painted it an ugly yellow,” Jenny complained. “And my room stinks of paint.”
You resisted the urge to yell at her that she wasn't supposed to arrive yet. If only she would have given you the courtesy of getting your things in order before she invited herself over.
Jake laughed as he continued playing. “Yeah, she doesn't have the best taste.”
“Tell me about it. What are these pillows,” she kicked one to the floor as she laid out on the couch.
You stomped into the room and received a disingenuous smile from Jenny. You ignored her and started on dinner. 
“We're not really eating here, are we?” She asks as you are nearly done with dinner. “Can't we go out? We're in New York!”
As if she couldn't have said this before you started cooking. Jake sighed and got up to the kitchen, opening the pan and smelling your cooking. You watched him expectantly so he could tell his sister that you made dinner and she could eat it or leave.
But he frowned and turned off the stove. 
“Yeah, let's go out.” 
“Awesome, let me get my jacket!” She screamed and went into her room. 
You hit Jake in his stomach. “Jake!” 
He rolled his eyes, “Babe, come on. I'm tired. Let's just go.”
He grabbed the keys and strolled out the door when Jenny came back and you trailed after them. The door slamming hard behind you.
Tyler clenched his jaw and inhaled deeply through his nose. If he had to listen to these people keep talking he was going to lose it. He had met some obnoxious fake people in his line of work, but he had yet to have them in his team. 
Jake's father kept droning on about his son as if he was single-handedly leading the team into the playoffs. Tyler knew Jake had done nothing but cause more distractions than unity in the team. And as far as he knew, he was still the Captain of the team. 
“Daddy, you're talking Tyler's ear off.” Tyler resisted the urge to roll his eyes as another one of Jake's family members cozied up to him.
Tyler gave her a short nod when he met her, hoping she'd understand to leave him alone, but alas that wasn't the case.
“It's too bad, Y/N can't be bothered to be here to introduce us,” she told him.
“Well, you already know who I am,” he deadpanned. To anyone else it maybe could have sounded cocky but he knew a girl who only wanted him for his fame when he saw one.
His mind strayed to where you could be. He knew you wouldn't miss a game so he made an excuse that he had to go downstairs to tell the coach something and made his getaway. There wasn't much traffic since the game was still going on so he made it back to the apartment building in record time. 
He knocked on the door a few times but didn't get a response. Tyler was beginning to worry and called your name again. The door finally opened and he wasn't prepared for the sight.
“Tyler? What are you doing here?”
“You weren't at the game and you didn't take any of our calls. I got worried and decided to check on you.”
And good that he did. You didn't look good. You had bags under your eyes and were super pale. A frazzled look was on your face and your eyes were red like you had been crying.
“I'm sorry,” he frowned, she didn't need to apologize to him. “I just had a lot of things to take care of for Jake's parents. And when I checked the time it was already late and I felt a little dizzy and I got a call from that interview I went to last week and I got rejected, and–” she explained, getting more anxious by the second.
“Hey,” he grabbed her arms as he soothed her. “It's okay,” he pulled her into a hug and she burst into tears. “It's okay, baby girl. It's okay.”
She cried into his shoulder as he held her. Eventually she calmed down enough for them to sit down at the table. Tyler pushed a banana toward her making her eat it. 
“Thanks,” she said quietly. “Do you think we can still make it to the game? Jake is going to wonder why I'm not there?”
Tyler fisted his hands, not in anger toward her but the fact that she still thought of her asshole boyfriend before herself. 
“Don't worry about the game.” He had faith his teammates would be able to win a game even without their Captain in the arena. He also didn't care if he would be called out for leaving in the middle of a game. His coach would probably give him a talking to about his responsibilities as a Captain but he didn't care right now. “You look like you haven't slept in days. You should rest.”
She immediately shook her head. 
“Jake's parents–”
“They're fine at the arena. They're in the sky box.” Fuck Jake's parents honestly. They were just as stuck up as their son and daughter. “Get some sleep. I'll explain to them what happened when I go back to the arena.”
She reluctantly agreed but he didn't leave until she changed into her pajamas and locked the door behind him. 
He booked it back to the arena and arrived right before the end of the game. No one called him out for leaving and he wondered if anyone noticed. 
The locker room was rowdy as he walked in behind the guys. He sat back for the questions with the press in case they asked anything specific. 
“Hook,” one of the lads whispered, yelling at him to get his attention. “Come’re,” Anthony nodded his head for Tyler to get closer.
“Sup’”
“Where'd you go?” Tyler just stared back at him. “I asked one of the trainers to get you a question and they said you ran out of the box.”
It was uncharacteristic for him to ditch his team. But he needed to check on her. 
“I stepped out for a bit,” he answered vaguely.
Anthony inspected him, he hoped he wouldn't have found out. His friend would pry.
“For what?”
Tyler resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I had to check on something important.”
“Something or someone?” Anthony raises his eyebrow. 
“Senerchia!” His coach called him, saving him from this conversation.
He knew he'd get interrogated later. Perhaps even the other lads would join in. 
He looked at Jake and figured he should tell him about what happened. Ultimately, he chose to text Lacey and ask her to tell Jake or his family. He didn't want to cause her any more problems.
It was Tyler's first game back since this injury and you wanted to do something special for him as a thank you for last time. So you made him homemade potato chips.
“Hi, I wanted to give you this for your return. I know you can't eat these now but since we're all going out to celebrate after the game, I thought I'd bring them over before you left to the arena.”
“Thanks!” He noticed they were homemade chips. “You didn't have to.”
You shrugged, “I make them sometimes.”
You then noticed his lack of tie and his open collar. “I'll leave you to get dressed.”
“Hey,” he grabbed your elbow gently. “My parents will be at the game tonight. Sit with them, I told them about you.”
“You told your parents about me?” You don't know why you were grinning so wide it hurt.
He shuffled his hair with a slight uprise of his mouth.
“A little.”
You stared at each other for a moment before you cleared your throat. “I can't wait to meet them and tell them about how welcoming you've been. okay well I'll see you later and congratulations.” 
You tried to keep your hands to your side and not give him a big hug.
It was easy to see how much the team cared for their Captain. Even the WAGs and kids were excited for his return. 
When he got a hat trick within the first quarter and you threw your hat along with the rest of the crowd. You also might have cheered him on a little too loudly for him that Peter, his dad, sent you a small knowing smile.
Afterwards you went out with the rest of the girls to a bar where the team would meet you for drinks. 
The girls were already rowdy after a round of drinks. You caught up with all the gossip and laughed with the others. You felt like you were talking with old friends. Everyone was just so nice and friendly compared to LA. Long Island felt more like a family than a team. You imagined it had a lot to do with Tyler's leadership.
Speaking of the captain, he was across the bar chatting with the “lads”. They were his closest friends and the core of the team as you heard from Jake. Jake didn't like them but you found they were cool guys.
Tyler met your eyes and gave you a small grin. A warm feeling settled over you from the look alone. You gave him a short smile back and glanced back at the table where the girls were talking about Lexy’s new job.
The way she spoke excitedly about it made you ache for something similar. Even though you were enjoying being here it still didn't fulfill you. There was something missing and you really wanted to get back out there and find yourself.
Your relationship with Jake was fine but he was always busy. And you didn't want to feel like a burden to him anymore. Something had to give and you hoped he was okay with it.
“Hey, ready to go home?” Jake's overwhelming scent of his cologne reached you as he placed his large hand on your shoulder. In the background, you heard the girls complain and tell him to stay longer, but you knew he was probably tired from the game and socializing with the team. 
“Yeah,” you turned to him and nodded. “Let me just go to the restroom before we go.”
“Alright, I'll meet you in front,” he was already turning as you stood and got your purse, saying some quick goodbyes with the girls.
As you were leaving you noticed Tyler talking with a very attractive woman by the bar. He made eye contact with you and gave you a small wave as the woman continued talking to him. 
An unknown feeling reeled in your belly but you shook it off as you met Jake outside. But on your way home you kept wondering if Tyler would take that woman home. Not that it was any of your business. Good for him. He was single and he had a good night.
It was close to the playoff season and things were heating up for the Islanders. Unfortunately, things were heating up between you and Jake too and not in a good way.
“Why do you have to look for work now?” Jake complained for the third time since you told him earlier this week. “I'm in the middle of getting my team into the playoffs. I need you to focus here, not on some job you're probably not going to get.”
His words hurt, mostly because you knew he was right. The job you wanted was a coveted spot in one of the best companies in Long Island. You were severely under qualified for the job. 
Jake knew he hit a spot when you turned away from him and sniffed. He sighed and slowly got closer to your back. 
“Babe,” he said softly. “I'm sorry. I know you want to work, and I promise I'll help you find something this summer.”
He slowly turned you around and you buried your face in his chest as you felt tears burning in your eyes. 
“Plus, I don't know if we're going to be staying here if we don't make it all the way to the Cup.”
You looked up at him alarmed.
“What?” You asked, voice hiccuping from crying.
Jake grimaced, “Just this team, babe.” He shook his head, sounding annoyed. “But I don't want to talk about it. And I don't want to see you crying anymore,” he kissed your forehead and brushed your hair away from your face. “You're too pretty to cry. Let me see you smile.”
You did as he said even though you weren't feeling it. Especially when you thought about doing the whole moving thing again. You really hoped things worked out because you think you found your home here in Long Island. 
Two weeks later, the team went on a road trip in Canada. Meanwhile, you were at home prepping for your interview that was looming closer. Every day you went over questions you were sure they'd ask you to see if you were qualified.
You walked around the halls of the apartment building going over your answers in your head . It was something you did to prepare as it usually helped you not forget things if you got anxious. You stumbled when you found someone turning the corner. 
“Hey,” Tyler greeted you, his hand on the handle of his suitcase behind him. Looks like they had returned from their roadie earlier than planned or maybe you lost track of time. “Are you here to see me?”
He grinned at you and you couldn't help grin back until his words hit you.
“Oh! Uh, no,” you smiled awkwardly. “I actually,” you turned your head left and right noticing where you were. “I didn't know I was on this floor. I kind of was going through some stuff in my head and–” you looked at him as he seemed a little confused. “Sorry, I have a lot on my mind. I'll let you go, you must be tired.”
“Nah, come in,” he nodded to his door. “I haven't seen you in a while. Do you want a drink?”
“I should go see Jake,” you told him, but he insisted.
“Come on, just one drink,” he watched you expectantly and you nodded.
You walked into his apartment and looked around at his place. He had a really nice home. Nothing like the bachelor pad you expected from the captain of the Islanders.
“So how was the roadie?” You asked him once you were sitting at his kitchen nook eating some chips he had out. Jake didn't let you keep any of these snacks at home during playoff season. “The girls and I watched the games at Ruby and Angelo’s. you guys played so well.”
“Yeah, the team is doing fantastic out there,” he sounded proud but quickly grimaced.
“But?” 
He looked at you then swallowed and shook his head. 
“Nothing,” he said but you knew there was something going on and you could only imagine what it was.
“Are you and Jake still butting heads?” 
He looked at you curiously.
“Yeah,” he answered, like he was not expecting you to know about it. 
“Jake just really cares about hockey,” you shared. “I know he can sometimes be a little overbearing but he means well.”
Tyler was quiet as he looked at the countertop and moved his hand repeatedly over a spot. You reached over and touched his hand. He stopped moving it and kept his eyes glued on your hand over his.
“Why don't you come for dinner? I can cook something up, give you guys a home cooked meal and y'all can have a chance to talk outside of the locker room,” you suggested and smiled warmly as he finally met your eyes.
“I don't think that's a good idea,” he responded and you took your hand off of him. “We just got out of a six hour plane ride. I bet he's tired from the roadie.”
“Yeah, you're right,” you agreed. “I should probably go check on him. He's probably wondering where I am. I left my bag in the apartment.”
You got off the stool and Tyler stepped around the kitchen island to catch your wrist. You looked at his fingers around you as if it burned. He let it go just as quickly.
“You didn't tell me what was on your mind,” he said.
“Oh, uh it's nothing. Just another job interview. I'm not sure if I'm going anyway,” you tucked a strand of hair behind your hair and avoided his face. “I'm probably not gonna get it anyway.”
“Hey,” he got closer, only an inch between you. “Don't talk like that. Go. You never know what could happen. I mean you got more chances than us winning the Stanley Cup,” he joked.
“Oh, you guys are winning Tyler. You're an amazing Captain,” you gazed into each other's eyes for an extended minute until you finally broke when you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket. “I'll see you later,” you told him as you left his apartment and hurried to yours where Jake was downstairs calling you.
Things just didn't seem to sort themselves out with Jake. Lately, all you did was fight. He was always in a mood when he was home despite the team doing amazing.
Sometimes you wondered if Jake was happy with you. Or if he was happy with anything? All he did was talk shit about his team. Especially Tyler who he unashamedly despised.
At the same time, you couldn't respect Tyler more. He was leading his team to the finals. The few times you saw him, because he was so busy, he was always very nice despite being tired.
But all Jake did was complain. Either you didn't have his things ready when he wanted them or you cooked the wrong meal. There was a cold distance between you two during dinner, on the drive home, and in your bed.
Sometimes you cry yourself to sleep. Your anxiety was off the charts especially with the job interview looming closer. 
Tyler and the girls encouraged you while Jake remained oblivious that you were still taking the interview. Despite this you still went to every one of his games and put on your Playoff jacket with his name on the back as you cheered him on with the other WAGs.
When the team won the last game to make it into the finals you went into the locker room with the rest of the WAGs to celebrate. 
You got sweaty hugs from the guys as you passed by looking for Jake who was somewhere in the back celebrating. Then you crossed looks with Tyler who was shirtless with a huge smile on his face. 
“Congratulations,” you told him, resisting the urge to embrace him too. He just looked so damn good. His chain hung on his neck and his hair was all over the place. Tattoos that you'd never seen on display.
He didn't care though as he grabbed you in a hug. You held onto his shoulders and smiled into his skin.
“You deserve it,” you told him.
“Couldn’t have done it without you being here,” he said. You pulled back and saw him grinning from ear to ear, brightening the whole room.
You didn't get to ask him what he meant when you heard Jake before he came enveloping your body and pushing you forward brusquely. 
“I'm going to the finals, babe,” he said in your ear obnoxiously.
“Yes you are,” you smiled at Tyler whose grin faded. 
You rolled your eyes. Can't they play nice? They just made it to the finals. 
“Gonna get the Cup, aren't we, Hook?” Tyler glanced down at Jake's arm around your chest.
“Hook?” You asked.
“That's his nickname. Because he looks like a fucking kid like that movie,” Jake joked, probably mistaking Hook for Peter Pan, but it sounded like a jab at Tyler by the look on the other man's face.
Awkwardly you took his arm off you and turned him around to get him to go change so you could go. Tyler disappeared and you breathed a sigh of relief at dissolving the tension between them.
You sat in Jake's booth as you waited and noticed his phone buzz. One look at it and you frowned. Taking it in your hand you put in his code and opened the new text. 
Congratulations baby!! I can't wait to celebrate together🥂 here's a sneak peak 💕
You watched the picture emotionlessly. It was her. Of course, it was her. His one true love. Jake was talking to his ex again– No. He was seeing her again.
The celebratory setting wasn't for you anymore. You walked out of the locker room. You didn't belong there. You never did.
Jake denied it. He told you she was the one texting him. That was the first time. It didn't mean anything. He deleted it. He blocked her. 
But you knew. 
It would never be over. He would always be a cheater. Most importantly he would always run back to her. Because it's happened before. 
Even the trade to Long Island didn't keep them apart. Jake told you he'd asked for it to get away from her and give you guys a chance. 
You stupidly believed him. You believed him over and over again. You left everything for him. You're life was his and he didn't care every time he pushed you down and hurt you.
“I made this move for you. Had to deal with a shit Captain just for you,” he insisted.
“Bullshit!” You spat loudly, you were sure the neighbors heard as you slammed the door to the apartment.
“You got traded because you wanted more money and they wouldn't give it to you. Now you're placing all this shit on Tyler. And me. You always blame everyone else except yourself.”
“Maybe I had to go looking for someone else because you can't support me at all. Instead you're wasting your time on that stupid interview,” he snorted. “Don't think I didn't see those cards. I'm working my ass off getting my team through the playoffs and you're out here doing that wasting your time.”
“Fuck you. All I've done since I got here was try to make this move easier for you, but of course Jake couldn't have the attention on him for one second and you call her back.”
“I don't need you to do this right now,” he threw his hands in the air and went down the hall to your room. “I got the game in two days. I'll crash at a hotel.”
He came back with a duffel bag. You watched him through teary eyes. It was like deja Vu. This had happened before. You chasing after him was a common occurrence. Jake knew it. He was just waiting for you to do it again. 
However, this time you didn't say anything. You wiped your tears and watched him. He gave you an expectant look back. One word and he'd turn around and gaslight you into believing you would never find a man like him again. 
“Man, fuck this,” he said. “No one is going to fuck you like me you know that babe.”
It was a big day, you had the interview today. The Islanders also played for the Stanley Cup with home field advantage. Jake was staying in a hotel until you moved out. He made it clear he was letting you stay there until you “packed your shit and left.”
You had boxes delivered and strewn all over the place getting your things in order. Still, unsure if you should even go to the interview. You didn't have to stay in Long Island anymore. What was the point?
But somewhere in the back of your mind a voice very similar to Tyler's told you to go. You knew you'd regret it if you didn't go. 
Getting your best dress out of your luggage you ran to the bathroom to get ready. You left a mess inside then got your resume and bag to leave. 
Traffic was a bitch as you left the interview. You sat in the back of a cab with your back relaxed in the backseat. Head lolling to the side as you stared out the window. Thinking of never seeing this city again. 
There were people walking the streets with Islanders Jerseys with Tyler's last name and number on the back. Most of them were heading to the game inside the arena you were passing. 
Inside must be the family you thought you had made here. But that life was never real. All the dreams you made in this city are gone. Your interview didn't go well. You just knew it.  It was time to go.
The crowd roared in the UBS arena as the horn sounded signaling the end of the game and the Islanders win. Tyler was swept up in the celebration. He carried the Stanley Cup over his head and passed it to his teammates.
The party continued long after the game. Everyone was in high spirits and hugging their significant others and family who came down. Tyler hugged his crying father and got a kiss from his mom. Everything seemed right except it wasn't.
He knew what happened between you and Jake. You told Lexy and it tracked down to him. He tried calling you and seeing you, but you always missed each other despite living in the same building.
There was nothing holding you in this city anymore. But he hopes you'd decide to stay. Maybe you did get that job you wanted. Maybe you'd want to get to know him. Maybe it was the champagne and beer flowing that he decided to go and find out.
You had watched the game on TV. Shouting and cheering as Tyler made the final goal sealing their fate as Stanley Cup Champs. You were so happy for him but you had to get to packing. 
The knock at your door surprised you but you knew it wouldn't be Jake right now so you relaxed.
“Tyler,” you were surprised to see him. “Shouldn't you be celebrating with your team?”
“I couldn't stay there knowing you weren't there.”
Tyler gave you a second to process what he said then took his chance and kissed you for the first time. 
He caught you off guard showing up in your–well whatever this place was– and surprising you with his words and his kiss. So it took you a moment to react, but when you did you melted into him. 
His playoff beard tickled your face and he tasted like alcohol, but you didn't mind getting drunk off him. It felt like you were floating but then you realized you had wrapped your legs around him and he was carrying you further inside. 
Tyler pressed your back into a wall as you dug your fingers in his brown hair and he moaned into your mouth. He keeps chasing you with his kiss and you give in to him until you're both heaving for air.
“Tyler,” you manage to say tenderly, keeping him close with an arm around his neck. 
He steals a quick kiss again and you smile against it but your mind is still reeling from having him show up at your door.
“I know you have questions but you really can't say you didn't see this coming. Please, tell me you felt the same,” his said, in a slightly begging tone.
“I did,” you whispered, although it was just the two of you alone in the apartment. “But I can't do this.”
A hurtful look came across his face and your heart aches for him. He had to know though, you did care for him. 
“Because you still love him?”
“No,” you shook your head with a dry laugh. “I don't think I've loved him in a long time. It's just that,” you lowered your hands to his chest and realized you were still in his arms with your thighs on his hips.
He didn't let you go though. 
“Then what baby?” He asked, gently.
“I don't want to cause trouble for you. People will say I got between you and your teammate. Jake already hates you and your sponsors” you sigh.
Tyler had a reputation. He was the face of the franchise. Getting involved with the ex of his teammate was a huge risk you weren't going to let him take. 
“Fuck Jake,” Tyler interrupted your inner thoughts. “I don't give a fuck what he says. I just won the Stanley Cup, no one is going to say shit.” He shifted your weight. “Do you feel what you're doing to me?”
You mewled as he rubbed his erection against you. His mouth comes down to your neck and he presses you to the wall.  
“God, I've been wanting this since you first came to the skybox,” he groaned into your skin as you ran your nails through his scalp. 
Your head fell back on the wall as you moved your lower body for some kind of friction. 
“Is that why you said I should go back to LA?” You teased him, remembering what he told his friends.
“I wanted Blasser to go back to LA. Not you,” he smirked. “I’m not letting you go, doll, so you can stop squirming,” he pressed a kiss to your lips and placed his hands on your waist. 
“Hm,” you moaned, nibbling on his lip. 
“Such pretty noises,” he said. “All for me.”
“Where are we going?” You asked, turning your head around as he walked you to the door.
“Your new home,” he replied. “With me.”
You grabbed his face in the elevator in another exploring kiss. Your heartbreak fading away with Tyler's unabashed showings of love and devotion. 
Hook tag List: @crowleysqueenofhell @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @legit9thlunaticwarrior @triscillal @wwenhlimagines @99hook @5secondsofmoxley @wrestlersownmyheart @writtingrose @sizzlings-stuff @wickedval (ask/dm to be added or removed)
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charnelhouse · 2 years
Note
honestly can’t wait for that mercenaries series😜 really need myself some tyler rake, six, and llyold hansen to start the day🙈 anddddd do you have any spoiler to tell about? hehe 😉
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Lloyd stalks into the kitchen.
“Am I wrong? Or does this chick collect mercenary cock like it’s her damn job?”
Six frowns and Lloyd catches it. “Don’t you fucking give me that face, Gentry. Don’t make me the bad guy and you the unbothered Buddha fucking peacekeeper.” He points a finger at him. “You’re just as pissed.”
“She hasn’t given us anything to be pissed about, Hansen,” he retorts. “She was obviously in shock.”
Lloyd growls, grabbing the full bottle of bourbon off the counter and swigging it. He wipes his mouth, leaving an audible scrape from his thick stubble. “What do you think they’re doing in there?”
“Catching up?”
Lloyd snorts. “Catching up by fucking, you mean! Did you see the way she was looking at him? Like the goddamn second coming.”
Six drops down into a chair, swiping an open red wine bottle off the table and taking a hearty sip. It’s acidic. There are little flecks of cork, but he drinks it all the same. His muscles are aching from the earlier fight. He needs a few painkillers, but also doesn’t want to risk passing by them in the living room. “She thought he had died, Lloyd. That’s all. It was shock.”
“Jesus,” Lloyd runs his fingers through his dark hair. He wraps those full pink lips around the bottle neck of whiskey and takes another pull before it hangs limp in his grip. “Did you hear her?” In a high-pitched imitation of 33, he says. “God Rake - you were dead! I saw you die. Oh fuck baby.”
“She didn’t say that.”
“She did.”
“Not like that.”
Lloyd makes a rough, frustrated noise.
“She belongs to us,” he mutters - the words are tight as a hiss. “I don’t give a fuck if her 6’5 ex has decided to come back from the dead.”
Lloyd’s tone makes Six pause. He cocks his head, regarding the brunette with a sharp new clarity. “You’re scared.”
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morgansunflower · 1 year
Text
My Letter To You 2/2
Single, Dad! Jason Todd X Reader
Warnings:suggestive content, explicit language and nudity.
Words:1264
Arthur's notes! Third P. O. V
Requested taglist/by @too-strong-to-lose @fancywinnerzinepasta
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Right after the phone call Jason deleted his profile on the dating website. The day of their date. Jason anxiously got ready for his date. Tyler sat on the counter of the bathroom sink as his dad brushed his teeth.
"nervous?" Tyler asked amused that his dad was obviously anxious to see Y/N again.
"I am not nervous twerp.." he spit the toothpaste down the drain, he was so nervous.
"lies!" Tyler exclaimed seeing right his Dad's lie.
"watch it kid" Jason jokingly threatened
"you don't scare me old man"
"old man?" Jason scoffed, and lifts Tyler his shoulder. He continued to brush his teeth while his son stayed on his shoulder greatly annoyed.
"oh c'mon Dad put me down!.. I'm just kidding!.. Dad put me down!"
"nope you're in trouble Mr!" Jason jokingly said
Jason plops his son onto the couch. He then tickles Tyler. The little boy laughed trying to make his dad stop. Jason stopped letting him breath. Jason ruffled his hair. As they made it to Wayne Manor. Tyler reached hugging his dad's neck. Jason left to go pick up Y/N. He holds her favorite flowers standing in front of her apartment door.
"ok Todd deep breaths it's Y/N.. She's everything you want" he muttered to himself gaining the courage to knock on the door. "I can't fuck this up.."
Y/N instantly leaps hearing the door she takes her purse and looks in the mirror one last time. She opens the door completely in awe of the man standing in front of her. Jason had certainly grown much talker, he was quite handsome.. Huge in fact. Though his height brought her a deep sense of safety rather than fear.
"hi Jay" she smiled her heart warming to say that again "you look great"
"hey Y/N you look.. Look really beautiful.. I uh.. I brought you flowers" Jason scolded himself for sounding so stupid. It was Y/N. He'd feel better if he knew this was going to work. She looked so beautiful, nothing was more beautiful than her smile.
"thank you" she smiled raking them and putting them in her vase.
Jason came in shutting the door behind him. He looks seeing a picture of him hanging on a magnet on her fridge. He couldn't fight the smile that came to his lips. Tyler adored his Dad's new girlfriend. She was so awesome and sweet. Y/N and Tyler would make Jason cookies while he was on patrol. She would play with Tyler at the playground. When he hurt himself to tears she would hold him. After Jason had been dating her for a few months Tyler made Y/N a Mother's Day card. She cried genuine tears. Bruce's smile grew when Jason asked him how he should propose to Y/N.. Unfortunately Grayson overhead and wouldn't shut up about it until he proposed.. Resulting in the entire Wayne family knowing. Jason was scared they'd tell her before he could plan the perfect way to propose to her. The recently engaged couple laid bare together under the covers of her bed. She placed her hand on his cheek her eyes swelled knowing they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. She would never get used to seeing him wake up next to her. He kisses her beautiful soft hand. He knew every part of her. The past few months had been an adjustment to relearn to be in a relationship but it was worth it. He was learning to let his pain go and heal with her. She was so beautiful to him. He worshiped her. Loved every part of her. She helped him sleep when he didn't want to. Y/N was his first and his last. She knew his darkest dreams and she stayed right there. Jason himself was quite emotional knowing he finally could let everything go. He could see her every day and love her to. He wraps his arms around her laying his head on her neck. She hugs him tightly kissing all across him. One year later.. In the middle of the night Y/N reeked into the toilet. Tyler had heard her distress and runs in seeing his adopted mom throwing up. Panic settled into him worried for her well-being.
"Mommmmmy!! Are you ok?! I'll go call Dad!"
She finally stopped and grabs a cloth to wipe her face.
"honey I'm ok.. Don't call Dad"
She raises to her feet her body aching. After her shower she dressed herself in Jason's hoodie and her pants. She lays on her bed resting her head in her pillow. She softly groans craving Jason's comfort as she laid feeling miserable. Tyler brings her glass of water. She gratefully drank the water. Tyler takes the cup back placing it on her nightstand. Tyler lays beside his Mom giving her a hug to help make her feel better.
"thanks son" she yawned.
"you're welcome momma"
Y/N hears the living room window open. Jason's home. Her husband quietly shuts the window door. He steps into their kitchen softly wincing from his black eye. He reaches grabbing a cookie from the cookie jar and takes a bite.
"you're hurt!" she whispers turning the lights on.
"oh don't worry babe just a little bruise" he weakly said finishing off his delicious cookie.
She tiredly go's to the freezer taking a small bag of frozen peas. She takes it putting it on his eye. He helps her hold it there touching her shoulder.
"ahh" he winced from the sharp pain of his bruise "there was something you wanted to tell me?"
She was genuinely frustrated she could not gain a moment to tell him, now seemed perfect.. But "let's worry about that tomorrow. Right now I just want to get you into bed and don't think they'll be any sexy time.. We have company tonight"
"that's fine with me.. Besides figured we could take a shower together tomorrow"
3 weeks later.. Jason walked inside from patrol. He finds a, letter for him on the counter that was from his wife.
~alright we've been non stop busy things just keep getting in the way. I can't bring myself to say it without crying. I can't cry right now because then Tyler would worry his poor self without stopping if I didn't tell him what's going on. Don't worry big guy I'm ok just turn the letter around~
Jason turns the letter around and instantly gasped. He drops it running into the bedroom. He stops seeing her sound asleep. He strips down and changes to his boxers. He crawls into the bed. He looked at the way her body was beautifully shaped. Her breast were larger in size.. Jason smirked she was sooo hot. He noticed the small bump. He scolds himself for not noticing before. Y/N opens her eyes to see Jason in tears. She begins to cry. She wraps her arms around him. He softly laughs shakily overjoyed.
"Tyler's gonna be the best big brother" Jason smiled
"I'm so happy your happy" she said
"are you kidding the only thing that would make this better is my wife naked" he smirked kissing her
She chuckled "I'm glad you still find me attractive!"
"absolutely hot stuff" he reaches touching her bump lovingly making her heart leap "so beautiful"
"I know you're excited but I think we should wait until after the first trimester to tell everyone" she suggested.
"uh hate to break to you babe but you did marry into family filled with detectives"
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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year
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Tyler Rake Masterlist
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What’s Mine Is Theirs
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hope-to-hell · 3 years
Text
So I saw Extraction, and this came out.
Mosaic, angst and smut.
It’s not a fight, not exactly. And it’s not training, either; it’s the pure, unadulterated, vicious joy of movement, of the swift and violent kiss of his fist along the edge of your jaw. It’s the way you kick his legs out from under him, the way you pause for a moment above him, just long enough for the hot flush of blood below your skin to make itself insistently known. It’s the press of his hot, thick fingers up the inside of your thigh (dirty nails, callouses, blood and ichor and gunpowder etched permanently into the lines on his palm).
And he is moving now to roll you under him; he’s flushed and sweaty, little beads of perspiration rolling down his face because it is hot here, it is humid, and once you stop moving it all comes down on you at once. So you keep moving.
He rolls you under and you slither out; the scrape and scratch of rough boards will ruin what’s left of your clothes but it’s not like it matters. He’ll love to see you in his shirt later, watching the way your legs descend from the hem, thighs shiny because he loves to see the evidence of your coupling all over you. He knows a permanent mark is out of the question; even the wrong sort of bruise is a bad idea, but damn if he doesn’t feel that primal urge to mark and claim, to write mine in neon letters. But he can’t, so he doesn’t, and instead he smears you in his fluids and if he can’t put his mark on you he will put it in his memory of you, to keep him warm when you’ve gone.
But anyway.
I am going— he’s got you by the ankle, drags your body back and under him again as he’s scrabbling for purchase on your flesh—
I am going— fuck, goddammit— as he’s lifting and pressing and Jesus he’s strong; he’s got you propped against the wall with his hands under your ass like it’s nothing, but there’s that little tight line between his brows that speaks to wounds not quite healed. Not like he minds much, anyway.
If I don’t fuck you right through this wall it’ll be a day wasted and he does, somehow, bursting through in a shower of lath and plaster, dust raining down around you as he’s driving into you in short, sharp jerks.
You’ll call me when it’s over? But it’s not much of a job, a little museum with some paintings that need liberating. It’s not like you won’t be on a plane home before supper. He’s strange now, with a death wish that doesn’t suit him, that hangs from his shoulders like an ill-cut suit. He asks after you but leaves himself in the wind, watching you in his shirt, in his colors, and he wishes just once that he could mark you up properly.
Come with me. I could use someone like you is what you tell him, but the part that goes unsaid, the I can’t bear to watch you kill yourself, is what he hears, and it pulls him further into you, further into the way you fit together so goddamned perfectly, the shards of you both fitting into a strange mosaic.
But.
When he says let me be selfish, he means let me have you, own you, claim you.
When you say it, you mean please don’t make me bury you.
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Note
Can I pretty please have Tyler Rake with number 4?😘😘😘
Why, yes you can, lovely!
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Smut below the cut! Minors DNI!
He's a man of danger, of quiet menace. You perhaps know that better than anyone, knowing he's right behind you, stalking you like a predator through the darkness. A swift movement and he's on you, body surging forward with you, pressing you up against the cool, smooth wall before you.
Your heart pounds, the anticipation of this moment mingling with pure adrenaline, his hands grasping the thin cotton of your shorts and yanking them down, his breath hot against your neck as he lays feverish kisses against your flesh.
A low moan rattles through your throat as his hand slips between your legs, stroking the aqueous velvet of your folds, mumbling how good you feel, fingertips laying slick strokes over your clit before he breeches you, two fingers sliding within the clutch of your cunt, his other hand curling at your neck, slapping over your mouth when the moan you make is perhaps a tad too loud.
“You have to stay quiet. Not a single noise, understand?”
"Yeah, got it," you whisper. "
"And if you are too loud and wake them, I ain't dealing with it. Five bedtime stories is enough for any man whose sons refuse to go to sleep. We need our time now."
You chuckle softly. "Goodnight Moon again?"
He groans, and you feel him nodding against your shoulder. "Don't even need the fuckin' book to read it any longer."
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