#and i just want to watch odd squad
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
You know what never mind why am I trying to understand and help with other alter's neurosis.
What about me. What about my neurosis.
#SPIRITS ARE LOOKING AT ME DISAPPOINTEDLY NO MATTER WHAT I DO UNLESS I FOLLOW HYPER SPECIFIC INSTRUCTIONS#but what they say to do is usually incomplete and... now that my original tags deleted i dont know what to do#the “michael stop talking” is insane. i guess it's something that's dangerous to talk about and the others dont seem to deal with it?#it just doesn't — argh fine for wanting to talk I guess it's safer if i just delete this. I'm really frustrated#it's like talking to my overwhelmed father everything is liable to blow up and it's on me if i say something stupid#and i just want to watch odd squad#look im not saying anyone has to like me or there's not entirely valid reasons but they arent apparent to me and that's for good reason#the sighs get to me though it would be helpful if it was easier to understand or i guess if it wasn't so faith based because sometimes...#it seems more like ocd and I don't want to be doing it anyway because i feel strongly towards the way I'm being instructed#it's important and i want to do the right thing. i won't falter when it comes to what I'm meant to do#im itchy and tired and ... repenting... it's my spirit and not me... i want to make sense of things#please help me...?#oh um... i might be misunderstood when i said “i dont want to do it anyway” i mean do something i was told not to#i don't want to rush into a decision because it feels time based and my guidance is harsh sometimes and i can't tell if it's real or#someone else or#you know. crazy
0 notes
Text
I might have said it before but I do like how in Pokémon Horizons Ikue Ohtani isn't just playing Pikachu with a hat on. Captain Pikachu has a distinct voice with gruffer tones than OG Pikachu, and it's generally more serious and less playful. Captain Pikachu doesn't fuck around.
#horizons has moments I really enjoy#but it doesn't do quite enough with its cast of human characters#it's unusual for a Pokémon series to have so many adults in the main cast and I like the crew of the Brave Olivine#and their dynamic with each other and the kids is interesting and fun!#there's a moment in the current episode where Old Man Ludlow pulls off something unexpectedly cool and action-packed#and Roy excitedly shouts out 'You rule‚ Ludlow!'#just little interactions like that - like now Roy thinks Ludlow is really cool - which could be followed up more#there was a very curry-focused episode which was also looking at the friendship between Liko and Dot#I want to know more about the relationship between Murdock and Dot - she's his niece and lives with him but wouldn't talk to him for months#Dot's such an odd duck and her voice actress' performance is really deft and funny (as is Murdock's)#I would like it if they interacted more - like Murdock seems really eager to have a proper close relationship with her but is afraid to pus#Murdock is such a warm and caring character#also they really fumbled the opportunity I thought they were going for - I thought Mollie was going to be a Nurse Joy who didn't want to be#she changed her hairstyle and her name and her demeanour but still ended up being a nurse to Pokémon just on a ship instead of in a Center#I think my problem here is that Pokémon Horizons has all the set-up and characters to be a slice-of-life sitcom *with Pokémon*#which would be really fun and I gather something like what Pokémon Concierge is doing but I haven't really watched that yet#but it's more focused on - y'know - Pokémon and a quest storyline that's honestly a bit limp#there's a HUGE Quirky Miniboss Squad and for what? they're not even getting defeated!#they're not really getting time to shine individually either#I want it to be a different type of show than it is trying to be I guess
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just finished watching the first four complete episodes!
ODD SQUAD UK IS LIVE LETS GOOOOOO
#and let me just say ODD SQUAD IS BACK#different but we are back#I do adore orli’s and ozzie’s dynamic#my favorite episodes were the one where they actually worked together#I do wish we’re getting more episodes though bc things do kinda feel rushed#and I want to learn more about the characters#ozzie’s backstory wasn’t what I was expecting which I liked!#but if the big bads turn out to be his siblings I will be disappointed#we’ve done that already!#guess what I just watched#odd squad uk#odd squad#odd squad pbs kids#odd squad uk premiere
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
— SUPERSTAR
leah williamson x teen!reader | masterlist
⤷ you finally get called up to the senior squad - only to feel completely out of your depth when you get there



୨୧
you hadn’t spoken an awful lot since arriving at camp. in fact - apart from the expected, friendly hello’s and the odd word uttered in the heat of a drill, you hadn’t said anything. certainly not because you didn’t want to - everybody had been exactly as you had expected, incredibly welcoming and kind - but more so because you didn’t know how.
this was the lionesses. the team you’d dreamt of playing for ever since you were a little girl, and the only girl on your school team. even back then, when you were combining football boots and princess dresses- this had always been your goal, one that you had pushed yourself to your absolute limits to reach, and you’d finally made it - against all odds.
except - you had spent so long trying to make it that you never considered what what happen if, when you did. and even now that you were here, you weren’t entirely sure that you belonged, or deserved it.
everywhere you looked, no matter where you were, in every training session, every team meeting, even in the physio’s office - there were world class players, who worked and gelled together perfectly, whilst laughing and joking like a family. they belonged here, they had history here.
and whilst you were expecting to feel like an outsider when you weren’t in the team - nothing could’ve prepared you for feeling it whilst you were in the team. a moment that you had worked your entire life for, that should be like a dream come true - instead feeling like you had been catapulted into the deep end with no armbands as everyone watched you drown from the sidelines.
-
as well as you thought you had hidden your inner turmoil, people noticed. in fact, most of the girls did - being naturally all very overprotective of the younger ones (even the ones who struggled to make eye contact with any of them and barely uttered a hello. especially those ones)
leah had been the first by miles to pick up on your quietness. as the captain, she was almost annoyingly observant, and over the span of a few days had realised that it may be a little bit more going on with you than just the expected shyness - something that sitting next to you at breakfast, or passing to you a tad more in training could resolve. she picked up on all of your behaviours, even the ones you hadn’t realised yourself. when you hung back from the group as they walked in from the field, when you bit your lip and hesitated before speaking, your voice cracking softly when you did so, every time you forced a smile, whilst peeling the skin off your fingers and looking like you were on the verge of tears.
she saw it all - every time.
so when you silently disappeared from training, it wasn’t at all shocking that leah was the first to notice.
“anyone seen y/n?” she frowned as she frantically scanned the pitch, it deepening as you were nowhere to be seen.
“she was in the gym inside last time i saw her, maybe she’s still there?” mary replied, mirroring her captain’s expression, as she took a swig of her drink.
the blonde nodded and turned on her heel after promising mary she’d keep her updated on your whereabouts. completely unbeknownst to you - you were a common conversation point within the more senior members of the team, all of them wanting to help you feel like you were welcome and at ease there.
as she made her way towards the gym - worries swirled around her head. something didn’t sit quite right with her about your absence. you were always visibly nervous, you had been since you arrived, but above that you were diligent, never one to miss drills or slip away like this unnoticed. and you had been extra tense all morning - something she had intended to pull you aside to check in about, having not said a word the entire day, only giving out a few tight lipped smiles and nods.
her concerns only deepened as she entered the near silent gym - and realised it was empty. usually, she would be celebrating an empty gym, making the most of it before the chaos that was the rest of the team arrived - but this was a different kind of feeling. one that made her stomach tighten.
she saw an awful lot of herself in you, and that paired with the little bits of information sarina had been allowed to tell her about your background, made her feel the need to be overly protective over you - in an almost older sisterly way.
leah continued to make her way across the room, leaning to check the gaps in between machines and past the stretching mats - just in case.
just as she was about to leave and call for whoever you call when your nineteen year old teammate vanishes into thin air - she heard it. short, uneven, almost gasped breaths, and muffled sniffles, getting louder the further she went.
she found you curled up, practically in a ball against the furthest wall - hidden away, your knees to your chest, and your hands trembling, gripping the cuffs of your sleeves in a somewhat attempt at grounding yourself.
and she could physically feel the way her heart clenched.
“hey, hey” she said softly, practically a whisper, crouching down a comfortable distance away from you, wanting nothing more than to pull you into her arms - but not wanting to startle or upset you even further. “it’s okay, you’re okay.”
your head snapped up at her words, like a deer in headlights - your teary eyes widening, filled with panic. “oh god i-i’m so sorry, i just-”
“you don’t have to apologise, not at all.” she interrupted your ramble - voice gentle. “can i sit?”
you hesitated, before giving a small nod, so small in fact that if her eyes weren’t currently piercing through you, she probably would’ve missed it. she shifted so she was sat cross legged in front of you - a little bit closer but still giving you space.
and for a brief moment, the only sound was your shaky breathing.
“do you wanna tell me what’s going on? i’m here to listen.” she asked, breaking the silence - no pressure behind her words, just simply opening the door for you.
“i- i just….don’t think i fit here, at all” you admitted through choked sobs, sniffling softly - your voice barely audible. “everyone here is incredible - and i’m not good enough, i- i thought i could do it but i can’t. and w-what if i mess up, and everyone realises it too?”
leah exhaled softly - her heart breaking at your words. “oh mate. i get it, trust me. i really do.” she murmured, her expression warm as she made eye contact with you for the first time.
she shifted so she was sat beside you now, looping an arm around your shoulder and easing you into her side gently.
you frowned to yourself, looking up at her through blurry eyes. “but, no. you’re- you’re leah williamson. you’re the captain, one of the biggest players in our game. you’re meant to be here - you are a huge part of what ‘here’ is.”
she chuckled in response, shaking her head lightly as she rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. “you think i’ve never felt like this? trust me, i have had my fair share of ‘i don’t belong here, i shouldn’t be playing football, my world is ending’ moments” she said - tilting her head, and reading your expression like a book.
“but let me ask you something - something i always ask myself when i feel like this - who here, today told you that you weren’t good enough?”
you swallowed harshly, choking back a splutter in response as you register the fact that she’s right.
“um- nobody, i-i guess. not really.”
“right. so, that little, nagging voice in your head? it’s lying to you.” leah shifted again, leaning forward slightly, holding eye contact as to really get the message across. “you’ve not only been called up, which is a huge thing in itself, you’ve been admired by each and every person here - we’ve been watching and waiting for your moment, and are overjoyed that it’s finally here. you’re incredibly talented - and you do belong here. nobody hands out lionesses call ups for nothing. you’ve earned this, kid. give yourself that credit.”
you wipe your eyes, her words beginning to sink in, although still tangled with a cloud of doubt. “i just don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
your words trail off at the end of your sentence, but the captain, your captain - hears them clear as day, and she softens even more. “listen to me, okay - and you can trust that i’m being honest, ask anyone hear and they’ll take the mick about how serious i am with everything. you’re new, yeah. but that doesn’t , and will never mean that you’re alone. we’re a team, and that means we’ve got you. no matter what - you could score five own goals and get a red card tomorrow and we’d still back you. i promise you.”
your lip trembled, more tears slipping down your cheeks as you nod. leah, without hesitation pulls you into her arms, sensing that you could really do with a hug - and not being able to bear seeing you so upset without comforting you any more.
“you’re safe here, promise.” she said firmly, stroking your back gently, and almost rocking the pair of you. “i’ve got you - always.”
she remains like that for what feels like forever, grounding you and whispering words of reassurance until a shaky breath slipped your lips as you nodded, finally starting to believe her words. “thank you. i, um. i needed that.”
“come on then superstar - let’s show the world what you’ve got.” she helps you up and links your arm in hers, giving you a reassuring nod and smile as you both make your way back out to the training field.
“and please don’t actually score five own goals and get a red card - sarina would kill me.”
-
feeling incredibly rusty with writing currently but i have revamped my page + am getting back to it!
and what better way to chuck myself in the deep end other than starting up a new series :’) i hope you love it as much as i do
- el x
#leah williamson x platonic reader#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson imagine#leah williamson x child reader#lionesses#lionesses x reader#leah williamson x teen reader#woso x reader#arsenal wfc x reader#woso imagine#arsenal wfc x child reader#awfc imagine#lionesses imagine
453 notes
·
View notes
Text
no more ace to play [mamma mia part two] | formula one social media au
drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso and jenson button
the investigation was fruitful but now y/n has a handful of drivers and a bucket load of criticism
general note: i answered an ask about this but i thought i'd reiterate here, this is a no wives or kids au, so seb and jenson's wives and kids do not exist in this !! thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on the last part, hopefully i remembered to tag everyone who asked x
part one | masterlist | ko-fi
yourusername



liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 1.405,605 others
tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel, jensonbutton
yourusername: so i guess it's kinda real now and they're all lovely x
view all comments
user4: i know the bitter old people are going to find this now but i for one think it's fucking ICONIC
user5: the guys are way too chill for the situation
user6: they've not said anything, so how would you know?
user5: idk reeks of babytrapping
user7: be for real y/n doesn't need to baby trap anyone she has her own career?
yourbff: debrief needed STAT
yourusername: literally on my way to yours right now get the non-alcoholic wine READY
landonorris: do i like get a prize for my hand in this?
yourusername: here's a gold star ⭐️
landonorris: i was hoping for some monetary rewards
yourusername: ur literally a millionaire ?
landonorris: and?
user8: are any of them gonna like comment or?
user9: very odd considering they wouldn't shut THE FUCK UP on their own posts
user10: for real they were very proud of their 'accomplishments' but now it's the consequences of their actions and theyre silent ?
user11: have yall considered the fact that finding out you might be a dad is a bit of a shock, let them all process it?
jensonbutton


liked by lewishamilton, sebastianvettel and 302,889 others
jensonbutton: back to see the old rides
view all comments
user12: SPILL JENSON PLEASE
user13: so like what team is this kid going to support they've got so much to choose from?
user14: if they have any taste, ferrari 💅
user15: i mean their momma clearly has taste so ....
oscarpiastri: nice to meet you jenson!
jensonbutton: by how much mark talks about you i could've sworn i'd already met you
aussiegrit: bold of you to send shots my way considering your current predicament
user16: mark saying this like they aren't lucky to be with y/n ?
user17: bro we all saw that you met up with y/n and the baby daddy squad... wanna maybe share some thoughts?
user18: why would he want to publicise that he got with a slag?
user17: i know you're not calling y/n a slag when we're talking about f1 playboy JENSON BUTTON ?
user19: i have complete faith that this mamma mia summer WILL have a good ending but i NEED these men to maybe actually talk about it so people aren't just out here coming for y/n ?
yourusername


liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,209,677 others
yourusername: got myself a sweet treat and did some meditation (i.e. listening to asmr roleplay) because life is crazy and morning sickness is a bitch
view all comments
user24: not to be sappy but i am emotional watching y/n go through this, she's been on the internet for so long i feel like i've watched her grow up, idk anything about f1 but i hope they're good for her
yourbff: gosh who knew you getting pregnant would lead to us having to go to the bakery every single morning
yourusername: but but but they have such good croissants and SHUSH I BUY YOU YOURS EVERYDAY
yourbff: i know you're like my sugar mama, please still buy me pastries when you have your actual child
user25: i think we're all being a wee bit dramatic about the whole "they haven't said anything" business. yes, they probably should say they're fine with it so people stop accusing y/n of baby trapping them but ALSO we don't know what they do everyday, maybe we should just let the adults go about their business
charles_leclerc: i am basically seb's kid so i shall be a character witness: that man is an ANGEL and believe me that took a lot for me to say in public lol
yourusername: why thank you charles, i have heard a lot about you. in fact on his "provisional dad cv", sebastian directly named you, some guys called max verstappen, mick schumacher and lance stroll as fatherly experience
maxverstappen1: LOL I KNEW SEB LOVED ME BUT WTF IS A DAD CV
sebastianvettel: this is a serious matter and i wanted to show that i'm serious about fatherhood
mickschumacher: soz max, charles and lance i think WE all know who his favourite is
lancestroll: i'm just happy to be recognised tbf
yourusername: well i kinda hope this real child will be his favourite...
charles_leclerc: boring 🥱
alexalbon: well i'm gonna nominate myself as jenson's grid kid and woah that guy is great 👍
jensonbutton: sounds kinda sarcastic but thanks for the effort alex
carlossainz55: seeing as we're all here i'll say that nando is the best grid dad sorry not sorry
yourusername: you're all here but idk who you people are ?
fernandoalo_oficial: chilli have i ever told you how proud i am of you?
stoffelvandoorne: do i mean nothing to you old man
user26: wtf is going on here
fernandoalo_oficial


liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel and 1,403,677 others
fernandoalo_oficial: what a race! thankful to finally be back on the podium this weekend and i'd like to dedicate this race to the soon-to-be new addition and my new family, here's to our future ❤️
view all comments
user27: HOLY SHIT THIS IS SO CUTE
user28: i'm sorry the THUMB IN THE MOUTH CELEBRATION ARE YOU KIDDING?
jensonbutton: proud of you, come home quick x
user29: i'm sooooo chill about this
fernandoalo_oficial: i'll make sure to tell the team that THE jenson button wants the meeting to go faster
sebastianvettel: do i mean nothing? that's literally my old team name drop ME
yourusername: just tell them i've gone into labour
fernandoalo_oficial: you've not even been pregnant two months yet...
yourusername: they don't know that
astonmartinf1: this is a public instagram comment section...
maxverstappen1: maybe when the little one is actually here i'll let you win for once
fernandoalo_oficial: how kind of you?
maxverstappen1: i need the little one to know that at least one of you is cool and that i should be their favourite god father
lewishamilton: now that is a bold assumption
danielricciardo: i have been quiet on this topic but if anyone is prime god father material YOU'RE LOOKING AT HIM
yourusername: you'll all receive an email and a god father application in the coming weeks
charles_leclerc: is this another seb idea?
yourusername: maybe... but idk yall so i think it's a good idea
yourusername






liked by maxverstappen1, mickschumacher and 1,509,874 others
tagged: jensonbutton, fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel
yourusername: welcome to the crazy house
view all comments
user33: so we've confirmed the poly? yes or no?
user34: i'm gonna say yes but with them you literally never know
georgerussell63: so we all sent them a jellycat?
alexalbon: speak for yourself george that sick ass rocking bunny is all albon
user35: not to be weird but this kids is literally going to have the hottest parents of all time
user36: no cause if i'm a teacher and all of them walk in for parent's evening i'm passing out
jensonbutton: oh wow what a lovely crib i wonder who put that together
fernandoalo_oficial: don't you dare take all the credit
sebastianvettel: as if anyone other than the WOOD WORK KING put that together
yourusername: guys they are lying the delivery guy put it together and they all stood around watching like dads at the airport
jensonbutton: "like dads" so still getting the experience in
danielricciardo: so who is responsible for this grandpa ass nursery aesthetic?
yourusername: well this is awkward i thought it was cute
fernandoalo_oficial: it is don't worry honey, it matches seb's overall grandpa aesthetic
sebastianvettel: you guys agreed to move to mine don't switch up on my aesthetic now
jensonbutton: oh seb we all love your certain affinity for tartan and plaid
sebastianvettel: i'm not feeling this love right now :(
yourusername: cuddle pile incoming
note: ahhh okay this was very highly requested so i hope it met expectations. i'm thinking this could defo be a longer series (i am also working on into the arms of another dw) following the whole family if yall would like that? i'm gonna try and tag everyone who requested that, i am sorry if i missed anyone x
taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @minkyungseokie @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#sebastian vettel instagram au#sebastian vettel x reader#sebastian vettel#sebastian vettel imagine#sebastian vettel x you#fernando alonso instagram au#fernando alonso x reader#fernando alonso imagine#fernando alonso#jenson button instagram au#jenson button x reader#jenson button imagine#mamma mia au#astonmartinii
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
Lovie copying Leah by not wanting to eat her food anymore and only wanting plain boring food and less is so confused until at training she sees Lovie asking for exaclty what Leah is having
to be like | alessia russo x child!reader


grumpy masterlist
"lovie, why are you not eating your dinner?" alessia asked as you were sat in your seat with a plate of creamy chicken pasta and some side vegetables all of which you would usually eat and not leave a scrap.
however today, you hadn't even attempted to eat your dinner.
this wasn't the first time this had happened over the past couple of days you'd been on england camp with mummy and the rest of the squad. you'd only been eating your food if you'd chosen what it was to eat.
now by any means you had never been a picky eater. alessia had made sure that you were adventurous with what you ate, always making sure to let you try new foods. but you of course had the odd thing you didn’t like.
"don't like it." you pouted pushing the plate away from you as your mums eyebrows furrowed, alessia couldn't understand why you were being difficult.
"what don't you like?" she asked as she pushed the plate back in front of you, but you moved your face away from it not wanting it to be in front of you, answering your mummy's question by pointing to each individual thing on the plate.
"but mummy makes that when we are at home and you usually love it?" alessia says referring back to the times as you shook your head mumbling a small no. alessia taking a big deep breath as she tried quickly to find a solution.
"what do you want to eat then?"
"chicken nuggs and bread!" you smiled as alessia nodded getting up and going to ask the chef at england if there was anyway he could make you a plate of chicken nuggets. alessia deciding to not bother arguing with you over not eating the pasta and instead hoping this was just a small phase you were in and that within a week you'd be back eating all your favourite foods.
"leah, can you watch lovie while i go change this?" alessia asked, she being the one that was the closest to you, the england captain in the middle of eating her own dinner but agreeing nevertheless.
it wasn't a small phase, and it didn't last a week. it had now been two weeks since the england camp and alessia was back at training with arsenal, you accompanying her on the days you weren’t at nursery.
today was one of them days and it was the time of the day alessia had been dreading each day for the past few weeks, meal time. she’d let you go up with leah and beth and choose your own food, meaning she was able to avoid the tussle to get you to pick what you now liked.
“what you got then lovie?” alessia asked as you slipped in the seat next to your mummy, sitting on your knees so you were high enough to reach the table. beth carrying your plate for you, putting it in front of you once you were seated.
“today we’ve got plain pasta and some bread!” beth smiled as she sat down on the same table as the you and your mummy. alessia mouthing to beth, ‘with butter?’ as beth shook her head.
a slight grimace on your mums face as beth described your lunch, as you reached for a fork digging into your very colourless and plain pasta.
“at least she’s not pushing it away” alessia sighed as beth nodded humming in agreement, it was the small wins that mattered.
“hey kleintje!” vic giggled ruffling your hair as she passed sitting next to beth. you frowning at the dutch for messing your hair up, a peice of pasta hanging from your mouth.
“i see we’ve got a very colourful plate again” vic joked as alessia rolled her eyes at the dutches attempt at a joke. “you do realised she’s just copying what leah’s having, don’t you?” vic pointed out the groups eyes wandering to the blonde who was sat across the canteen and funnily enough you had exactly what leah was having. plain pasta and a slice of bread.
“no way, she is aswell!” beth laughed out loud as alessia blinked once trying to wrap her head around the fact of why you would want to eat such plain and boring foods. but it also making the pieces fit together for the past few weeks.
“why though?” alessia whispered thinking out loud. beth and vic both sharing a look that told alessia they didn’t have an answer before they both shrugged.
“the only way your gonna get your answer is by asking tiny herself!” beth pointed to you, as you were in your own little bubble now being onto eating your plain bread happily as your ipad played out the sound of the show you were watching.
so alessia decided to take beth’s advice and after another battle to figure out what to make you for your dinner that night it settling on a plate of potato smiley’s.
“lovie, can mummy ask you a question?” your mummy was sat opposite you at the dinner table, as you hummed and nodding your head, not being able to talk as your mouth was filled with potato.
“why are you eating really plain foods at the moment” she asked softly, the blonde putting her fork down on the side of her plate.
“i like it!” you answered simply, shrugging your shoulders. thinking that would be the end of the discussion but mummy wasn’t convinced as her eyebrows raised at the response.
“it’s just, i’ve noticed when at arsenal and england camps when it’s lunch and dinner time your eating very similarly to leah ” mummy pointed out as your face was a little shocked, your shoulders not looking a little more tense. “your not in trouble for it, i just wanna know why?” your mummy added.
“to be like leah” you answered so innocently as mummy nodded a pout coming onto her face as your sweet reply.
“lovie, you don’t have to do everything leah does. you can still be like leah and still like all the foods you love” mummy told you as you nodded timidly as a small smile creeped upon your face.
“so i can have chicken pasta?”
#alessia russo x y/n#alessia russo x reader#alessia russo#woso community#woso x reader#woso#woso imagine#woso blurbs#arsenal women#awfc#arsenal wfc#england wnt#england women#england#victoria pelova#beth mead#leah williamson#enwoso
582 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Told You So
Pairing: Tech x F!Reader
Summary: After a mission goes wrong, Tech realizes that you are more precious to him than he originally thought, and though he is upset that you didn’t listen to him, he is more upset that he nearly lost you. And he intends to finally do something about it.
Warnings: This is very much 18+ Minors do not interact! Slight canon typical violence and mentions of injuries in whatever plot this has, smut; oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!!), porn with feelings, possessive Tech, slight praise kink? language
Notes: I don’t know where this came from, it has been a minute since I’ve written anything remotely spicy let alone an actual smut fic. But please let me know what you think!
Word Count: 5.5k
Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added!
Masterlist
Edit: Thank you all for the likes and reblogs!! I hope you enjoyed it 💚
"It is unwise for any of us to go out on our own, we should be working in teams of two." Tech pointed out as you were gearing up for your mission. You were to locate and rescue a Republic senator who had been imprisoned by the Separatists and bring them back to Coruscant.
"There's an odd number, we can't go in teams of two." You pointed out. "I can handle myself, I don't want to divide your squad."
Ever since you had teamed up with Clone Force 99, you had gotten to know them well, but you still felt like an outsider. In some ways, you were, but you never really felt like one of the team. It wasn't uncommon for you to be the odd one out for teamwork, and to you, this was no different.
In truth, you had always hoped to be partnered with Tech when you were given the briefing, but his talents were more complementary with one of his brothers. Ever since you met him, you were drawn to him, his brains, his demeanor, the way he lit up when speaking about something that interested him which ended up being nearly everything. He was handsome and skilled, and he welcomed you into the squad immediately, over the following months, you began developing feelings for him.
It never hindered your performance on missions, not only because you were never paired up with him, but you were good at compartmentalizing your feelings from your work. You wanted to get closer to him, but there never seemed to be a good time, and even if there was, you just didn't know how to bridge the gap.
"You can join Crosshair and myself, it will be safe for you." He suggested.
"We'll cover more ground in three groups. I'll be fine, I doubt there are even going to be any platoons that far out."
Tech shrugged, "Suit yourself. I will send you the coordinates for our rendezvous point. Keep your comm on."
You nodded and left the Marauder with your equipment.
You had no idea that this mission would be more dangerous than many you had encountered, but Tech knew, he always did.
As you approached the outskirts of the village, you saw a clear path straight through to the compound where you suspected the senator was held. It seemed a little too good to be true, there should have been droids out here, not full platoons, but someone keeping watch.
You drew your blaster to be safe, and crept onward, keeping an eye out for anything out of place. You could hear chatter over the comms of the others checking in with each other, and then you heard Tech say your name.
“All clear. As I said.”
Tech didn’t reply and you lowered the volume on your comm, still keeping it on, but not wanting to draw attention to yourself.
You had made it about halfway through the clearing when you saw blaster fire strike about ten paces to your left. You looked up, trying to see where it came from when you saw a platoon of B1s headed your way.
“Easy work.” You mumbled to yourself, aiming your blaster forward, shooting them as they neared you.
It was easy work at first, but there didn’t seem to be an end to them. When you’d shoot one, two more would appear, and before you could even disable a squadron of them, a tank appeared over the horizon.
“Kriff.” You said.
You considered calling for backup, but your pride couldn’t handle Tech telling you that he told you so, so instead you took a grenade out of your pack and threw it toward the platoon. It didn’t seem to damage the tank, but it at least got rid of the marching battle droids.
If you had raised your comm to ask for help, you would have heard Hunter say that the target was secure, and call for everyone to return to the ship, but you were the only one who didn’t check in.
“Tech, Crosshair, you two go find her. Wrecker and I will bring the senator back to the ship.” Hunter told them.
They left their post and headed to your last known location.
“Why didn’t she just join our team?” Crosshair finally asked.
“I did suggest it, but due to her stubborn nature, she was certain she would be fine on her own.” Tech’s tone indicated his annoyance. He wanted to be as annoyed as he sounded, but more than anything he was worried.
He liked having you around, you were always willing to listen to him prattle on about whatever topic was on his mind. You were kind, you treated him and his brothers well. The idea that you could be taken from them had never crossed his mind until now. Unlike you, he had no idea of the way he felt about you. He had rarely had feelings for anyone before, he didn’t know how it was supposed to feel. All he knew was that he didn’t want to sit through a briefing without you, or ramble on about some useless topic without you intently listening, and he didn’t want your last conversation to be the last conversation. He didn’t want to be right about this one thing.
When they saw the explosion in the distance, he began to fear he was right.
The tank fired toward you, it missed its mark and you were able to avoid a direct hit, but the explosion was just a little too close. You were sent flying back from the shock wave, and you could hear buzzing in your ear before everything went black.
If you hadn't gone out on your own, someone could have been looking out for you. Tech could have been looking out for you, just as he insisted upon.
But instead, you were so certain you could handle yourself that you had gotten yourself in trouble.
You woke up in your bunk, bandaged and sore, but still alive. You didn’t know what happened, and you weren’t exactly eager to find out, but you knew you had to face everyone eventually.
Wrecker smiled at you when you walked into the cockpit, “Well look who’s finally awake!”
Crosshair didn’t say anything, instead looking at the back of Tech’s chair.
You heard a sigh, and then Tech turned his chair around, eyeing you up and down.
“Something you need to say?” He finally asked.
“What happened with the mission?”
Hunter spoke, “Got the senator. We’ll be arriving on Coruscant shortly.”
Had you really been asleep that long?
"I told you you should not have gone on your own." It seemed Tech was tired of the small talk.
You looked at him, unsure of what he wanted you to say. “I was just doing my part of the mission, nothing I did was out of line. I didn't know there would be that many droids on the outskirts." It was a losing argument, and one you'd rather not have in the cockpit of the Marauder in front of everyone, but Tech didn't seem interested in anything but the argument.
"Precisely. If you had gone with Crosshair and I, you would not have encountered those droids. And now you are injured because of your own mistake." He had raised his voice, something you’d never heard him do.
You flinched slightly at his words but he continued, “What happened to keeping your comm on? We were trying to reach you.”
“My comm was on!” You retorted, “Just turned it down so I wouldn’t be spotted.”
“Yes well, a lot of good that did you.” He responded sarcastically. “We might not be there to save you next time. Keep that in mind before you choose to do something so reckless.” He turned away from you, facing the front again.
Your eyebrows furrowed at the back of the chair, "I didn’t ask to be saved, in fact I’d rather be back there with the droids. Maybe then-"
Hunter cut into your argument. "That is enough, both of you."
He looked at you with his eyebrows knit together, "Go lay down, rest is going to help your injuries, arguing is not."
You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, you turned and went to your bunk.
After you were out of earshot, Hunter spoke to Tech.
"What was that about? You can't just yell at her, she got hurt, she learned her lesson already."
"As I have mentioned, she would not have-"
"Stow it. We all know what's going on between you, even if you don't. You need to figure it out before your next outburst." Hunter turned in his chair to face the front of the ship again. Tech looked on at the dancing lights of hyperspace.
Tech didn’t speak to you for the next week. The five of you were granted time off after saving the senator and you had all decided to spend it on Coruscant, but with the tension in the ship, it didn’t seem like much of a vacation.
You knew that all you had to do was apologize, but you didn’t feel like you did anything wrong.
You knew the others were getting tired of yours and Tech’s attitudes; they all knew that it was more than just the mission. They knew about your feelings for each other, and they knew how worried Tech had been as he treated your wounds and bandaged you up.
The only thing they could do was to force a resolution.
“Okay, we’ve had enough.” Hunter said loud enough for both you and Tech to hear at opposite ends of the ship. “We’re all going out. And that includes the two of you.”
He slammed down a flyer he had found for a gondola ride through the upper levels, complete with all the sights Coruscant had to offer.
“Is that really necessary?” You asked, glancing at Tech from the corner of your eye. You couldn’t think of anything less beneficial than the five of you being cramped together in a confined space you couldn’t leave.
“It isn’t a request.” Hunter informed you.
You sighed and left the ship, followed by the others, and finally Tech, and you made your way to the park where the dock was located.
The five of you slowly arrived at the front of the queue, and when it was your turn, you were shoved into a gondola along with Tech. None of the other batchers joined you, but before you thought to exit, the vessel's door had closed and you were moving.
You sat down on the bench across from Tech, still avoiding eye contact by looking out the window, arms crossed.
Tech still kept his silence. Even a week later, he was still considering Hunter's words. Was there something between him and you? He knew he didn’t want to lose you, but that was completely normal, wasn't it? And even if it wasn’t normal, that doesn’t mean whatever he felt was reciprocated. But if you did return his feelings, he knew this might be one of the only chances he had to act on it, to tell you how he felt.
When the gondola had reached nearly the top of the track, the view overlooking the Jedi temple, he sighed and finally looked at you.
"You see, I... I felt responsible for your injuries."
"You felt responsible?" You repeated after a pause. "Wasn't it my fault that I got injured? For not following your oh-so-wise plan?"
You were acting petulant, but your emotions were still running high and the confined space didn't help.
"Well yes, if you had done as I suggested, you would have been free from injury."
"Right, because you know everything."
"Crosshair and I left with zero injuries. So yes, this I know to be fact."
"Do you really have to say 'I told you so'? I'm sorry, is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry that I got hurt because I didn't l-"
You didn't have time to react before you felt Tech's lips upon yours. One hand was on the side of your face and the other was digging into your waist.
The vessel rocked slightly at his movement, causing you to grip onto the bench. Your eyes were still wide at the sudden contact, but when he didn't back away, you closed your eyes and deepened the kiss, moving your hands to place them on his chest.
He stopped to take a breath, his lips still hovering tantalizingly close over yours, breathing you in, committing your perfumed smell to memory.
You closed the gap this time when you decided he had enough time to catch his breath.
His tongue darted out and swiped across your lip, asking for access to explore. You allowed it, moaning into his mouth when you felt his tongue against yours.
In one swift movement, he sat on the bench and pulled you into his lap, resuming the kiss once you had situated yourself.
Your hands moved up, resting on his shoulders briefly before snaking your arms around the back of his neck, holding him close. You could feel his strong hands massaging your thighs before resting on your ass, testing the waters by giving it a squeeze, you bucked your hips slightly in response.
You could feel a coiling sensation in your stomach, a heat pulsing through you, and pooling out onto your panties. You wanted him, and you could feel based on his actions and the stiff bulge in his pants that he wanted you just as badly.
He broke the kiss, and moved his head back, causing you to chase after his kiss. He put a finger to your lips and smirked.
"You must be patient, the gondola ride is near the end of its course, and I still have more to say about the mission."
You frowned in protest, feeling all that heat suddenly dissipate as he gently pushed you off of him.
"Not to worry, the Marauder is nearby, no one else will be there and we can continue our conversation there, if that is what you want."
You nodded in agreement.
"I apologize, but I will need to hear an answer before I can comply."
"Yes, I want that." You said too quickly, trying and failing to not sound too desperate.
He smirked again. "Good girl. You and I still have much to discuss."
You whined slightly at his praise, then waited for the door to open as you neared the dock.
After disembarking, Tech grabbed your hand, pushing past the people exiting their respective vessels. Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair were nearby, but you didn't see them as Tech ushered you back toward the landing port.
"I guess they finally talked about it." Wrecker had said, staring wide-eyed after you two.
"We should probably give them some privacy so they can talk more." Hunter shook his head, smirking toward the ground.
"Just as long as they don't talk in my bunk." Crosshair said as he crossed his arms.
The door to the Marauder wooshed open, and the two of you hurried on board. Tech was back on you before it could close again.
He pushed you back into the wall, pinning you there as he kissed you. Placing hot kisses on your lips, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere he could.
"Do you realize how worried I was when I saw you?" He asked between kisses. "When I heard the explosion, when I rushed over only to find your body on the ground?"
He stopped kissing you and looked into your eyes, "I thought I lost you before you were even mine to lose."
"Tech.." You tried to move a hand from his grip to place it on his face, but he tightened his hold on it. “I’m sorry.”
“I do not want your apologies.” He told you, “I want you by my side, I want you to be safe. I…” He kissed you again, this time more roughly, eliciting a moan from you again. “I want you to be mine.”
Behind his goggles, his pupils were dilated, his eyes half-lidded.
The coiling feeling returned. Your stomach was in knots. You had never seen Tech like this before, you hadn’t seen him behave so possessively, and you wanted to see more of it.
"Then make me yours." You said, only a whisper. “I want to be yours.”
His mouth found yours again, not bothering to ask you to give his tongue space to enter but instead forcing it past your lips. His knee slotted itself between your legs, close enough to tease you, but not close enough to give you friction where you desired it most. You bucked your hips trying to find it on your own, and he smiled into the kiss.
"What do you want, mesh’la?" He asked you.
You bucked again in response. He removed one hand from yours and brought it down, pushing your hips back against the wall so you couldn't move them again.
"I told you, I need to hear your words. Tell me what you want."
"I want you. I-I need you."
"Then I should not keep you waiting."
He let go of your hip, and with the hand that was still holding yours above you, he guided you over toward the console.
"Here?" You asked.
"Well, of course." He guided your hips downward so that you were seated. "I cannot help but think about how pretty you would look while I fucked you right on the console of my ship."
You let out an involuntary moan at just his words alone.
He caressed the side of your face, and with a feather-light stroke across your jaw, he tilted your chin up to meet your gaze. Despite his words just a moment ago, he placed a gentle kiss on your lips once more, and his hand slowly traveled down your neck, over your breast, down your stomach, and rested at the hem of your shirt.
He looked into your eyes, silently asking for permission. You nodded eagerly and he pulled your shirt up over your head. He tossed it onto the seat behind him and then looked at you, admiring the newly uncovered parts of you.
"Beautiful." He whispered. Out of everything done so far, this one word was enough to make you blush, you tried to turn your head away but he stopped you.
Leaning down over you, he placed a kiss on your shoulder, then your collarbone, trailing down to your breasts, still obstructed by your bra. His lips kissed the top of one, while his hand held the other over the fabric. You reached behind your back and unclasped it, giving him access to another part of you where you wanted to feel his touch.
He tutted quietly. "I could have done that myself."
You rolled your eyes jokingly and he resumed allowing his lips to explore your skin, now alternating between kissing and sucking. And where his lips weren't, his hands were. Squeezing the flesh, thumbing over your nipple while his mouth worked on the other.
Soon, he continued his exploration, and as he neared your stomach, he lowered himself down until he was kneeling between your thighs.
His gaze was hungry as it focused on your center, his lips formed a tight line, holding his mouth closed to prevent his tongue from hanging out.
His hands were on your knees, he trailed them up your thighs, stopping at the waistband of your pants, once again looking up at you to ask your permission. You situated yourself to make it easier for him to remove them, and soon they too were discarded, thrown back toward the pilot chair. His hands were back on your thighs, prodding the soft skin, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on each of them, sucking them enough to leave marks.
You whined, both at the sensation of him marking your legs, but also at the lack of sensation where you really wanted him to be.
He smirked up at you, and then spread your legs further apart, slowly moving his face toward your aching cunt. He could see how turned on you were, and he licked his lips before speaking.
"Stars, you appear to be soaked."
"Mmhm." Was all you could manage, all your attention was on the fact that he was inches away from giving you the friction you needed.
"Cyar'ika.." He scolded. "Words. You need something of me, what is it?"
"I... I just need you, I need your mouth, your fingers, your cock, I-I need to feel you." Your desperate words turned his gaze dark.
"Good girl, telling me everything you want," his praise caused you to squirm, trying to close your thighs just to feel friction, but he held them open.
"You enjoy it when I call you that?"
"Gods, yes." You moaned.
He hummed in response, keeping that knowledge filed away.
He finally pressed his face forward, nose rubbing against your clothed pussy. You whined in response. He dragged the tip of his nose upward, knowing exactly where you wanted to be touched, and he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties, relishing in your whines and pleas for him to finally take them off of you, and soon he relented, letting them join the rest of your clothes before he dove in.
He ate you like a man starved, licking you through your folds, tasting as much of you as he could.
"G-ah, fuck, Tech," you cried out, your hands reaching for his hair. The feeling of your hands gripping his hair causing him to groan.
His lips wrapped around your clit, alternating between sucking it and circling his tongue around it. He could feel you squirming at his touch and he reached one hand up, resting it on your hips, hoping to help anchor your.
With his other hand, he circled your entrance, teasing you, making you beg him to touch you before he obliged.
He slid one long finger into you as far as he could, pressing against the spongy walls, exactly where you needed to feel him.
He let go of your clit and let his tongue run up and down your folds, getting another taste of your juices.
"M-mmo-" You began to say, being cut off by the feeling of his tongue making another swipe up.
"My apologies, you will have to repeat yourself." He looked up at you, his face slick with your arousal.
"More, I need more."
He raised an eyebrow and plunged another finger into you. Your head rolled back and you cried out.
"Is that what you wanted?"
"Yes!"
Your grip tightened on his hair, pulling his face back into you. His hot breath fanned against your cunt and you sighed in contentment.
"Gods, you are a needy thing." His purred, his voice vibrated against you as he attached himself to your clit again.
He sucked on you while his fingers made scissor patterns inside you, all the while you could feel the coil start to tighten.
"I'm close-" You cried out. He didn't change anything about his rhythm. He strived to get you there, he was eager to please you after he had been so harsh toward you earlier. His tongue circled your clit and he could feel you pulsing around his fingers.
You could feel the heat growing in your stomach, your moans got louder as you got closer. He slid his fingers out, and before you could complain about the loss, you felt his tongue swiping up and down before dipping inside you. His fingers resumed drawing circles on your clit as he drank from you.
Your thighs clenched together, forcing him to stay exactly where he was, you muttered out a string of curses as the coil finally snapped and you cried his name as you came undone. He kept lapping at you until you were through.
You released your hold on his hair and he stood back up.
"You taste magnificent," He smirked, licking your arousal off his fingers before his mouth found yours again. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he leaned you back onto the console. You shuddered when you felt his stiffened cock press against you. His hands began grabbing at your breasts and your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him in.
"You are perfect." He said as he began kissing every piece of you he could. He locked onto your neck, he kissed you fervently, then gently bit down, giving you a mark that would be difficult to hide from the others, not that they didn’t already have an idea of what was going on here. But that’s what Tech wanted, he wanted to show everyone that you were his.
"Tech.." You said quietly,
"Mm?"
"I want to see you." You pushed yourself back up onto your elbows and looked into his eyes.
For a moment, just for a moment, he froze, but soon enough, his hands moved to the fastener on his pants.
"Let me do that."
He smirked and helped you off the console gently.
You worked on the buttons on his shirt first, unbuttoning them slowly, placing gentle kisses on his chest as each loose button reveals it to you.
He tilted your chin up and leaned in for a kiss, pressing against you. You could feel his stiff bulge press into you again and your hands moved faster to unbutton his shirt.
You pushed it off his shoulders when it's finally unbuttoned, and you looked at his toned chest. You knew he'd be strong but it was still a surprise to you. Your fingers danced across his torso, feeling the muscles under his smooth skin, before finally landing on the fastener of his pants.
You look up at him, just as he did for you, asking for his permission. He pressed his forehead against yours in response, you smiled and kissed his lips, then moved to undo the fastening. He helped you to slide his pants off, and he stepped out of them, kicking them off to the side.
You could see the outline of his cock much clearer against his briefs and you could feel your mouth water, you clenched your thighs together, not wanting to wait to feel it inside of you. He raised an eyebrow at you.
"You desire it so badly?" He asked you, forcing your gaze away from it and back up to him.
You nod quickly, "Yes."
He smiled then rutted his hips against you, "Then please, continue."
Your hands moved to the waistband of his briefs, he moved his lips to yours again and you returned the kiss before kissing along his jaw, then his neck. You peeled the waistband down and he hissed as his briefs grazed across his cock. They had soon joined the rest of the clothes and you looked down.
You bit your bottom lip and you started to lower yourself down but he stopped you. You gave him a confused look, and he smirked.
"There will be plenty of time for that at a later time. But for now,"
He continued by guiding you back onto the console, laying your back down and he stood between your legs with his hands on your thighs.
"Are you comfortable?" He asked.
"Yes," you assured him.
You felt his cock rub against your folds, before he positioned himself at your entrance.
"Ready?" He asked.
You bucked your hips in response and he pushed himself in without another word.
You arched your back as you felt him stretch you open, if there was any pain, it quickly turned into pleasure as he buried himself in you inch by inch.
When he was fully sheathed, he gave you a moment to adjust before he started to move. He started out slow, he made sure that you were used to the feeling of his thrusts before he picked up the pace.
"Gods, you are taking me so well, cyar'ika."
You replied with a moan. You bucked your hips to meet his pace and he smirked.
"Is there something you want?"
"Mmm p-please, go fas-faster" you answered between thrusts.
"Very well," He obliged, his hands gripped onto your thighs and he buried himself again, quickening his pace at your request. He looked at you as you took his cock, the way your back arched, how your tits bounced with each thrust, the way your face contorted in pleasure.
He tightened his grip on your thighs, you took that as a hint to wrap your legs around his waist and he moaned in response, feeling himself go even deeper inside you.
"You are so perfect, such a good girl for me." Your walls clenched around his cock at his praise.
He thrusted into you harder wanting to explore the new angle he was permitted.
“Fu-uck,” you whined.
"Is this okay?" He asked, unsure of if he was hurting you.
"Gods, yes!"
He set a brutal pace, but you bucked your hips, meeting his thrusts each time.
Tech could feel himself nearing his climax, his pace started to become slightly more erratic. He slid one hand down your thigh toward your center. He circled your clit with his thumb, intending on sending you over the edge with him.
Your walls clenched around him again at the contact. You were getting close again. Your moans grew louder as you neared the edge.
"That's it," He said, he wanted to feel you come undone again. He continued circling your clit as he thrusted into you. "Be a good girl and come for me once more, come on my cock."
Your second orgasm crashed over you without as much of a warning as the first, your legs tightened around him, he slowed his thrusts down, helping you through it, and he moaned at how your walls constricted him. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer.
"Wh.. Where do you want me?" He asked.
"In-inside," you said, still overcoming the last of the waves of pleasure.
He didn't ask any further questions, he buried himself as far as he could before he stilled, his cock twitching inside you as he painted your walls with hot ropes of his seed.
He moaned out your name as he finished, feeling himself soften inside of you, he pulled himself out of you and you pushed yourself up, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his lips, your tongue darting into his mouth.
He returned the kiss, holding you close to him, and his hands traveled across your thighs, before lifting you up from the console.
“I love you.” You told him, resting your head on his shoulder as he held you. “I think I always have, but… In case it still wasn’t obvious.”
He smiled and carried you toward the refresher, sitting you down on the counter when you arrived, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. “Perhaps it was not obvious over the last week, but now, I would have more questions if you did not.” He smiled at you, “I love you too. But next time, if I ask you to join me on a mission instead of going off on your own, please listen to me.”
“But look where it brought us.” You replied with a smirk.
“Perhaps that is true, but for your own information, you do not need to nearly get yourself killed in order for me to fuck you. You could have just asked.”
He grabbed a towel before he quickly left to retrieve your clothes and clean off the console. Tech soon returned to you and turned the water on, helping you off the counter and guiding you to the shower where he joined you. It didn’t take long for his lips to be on you once again.
While it was your stubbornness that led you to this point in the first place, you were suddenly very eager to see what would happen on the next mission, should you and Tech finally be paired together.
#the bad batch#star wars#tbb#the clone wars#the bad batch fanfiction#tbb fanfic#tbb tech#the bad batch fanfic#the bad batch x reader#the bad batch tech#tech the bad batch#tech x reader#tech bad batch#the clone wars fanfiction#the clone wars fanfic#tcw fanfic#tbb fanfiction#tech smut#the bad batch smut#bad batch smut#tbb tech x reader
751 notes
·
View notes
Text
AAU GAME p II
It was game day—and for the first time ever, Azzi was facing Paige in an official matchup.
They’d known each other for years—two, to be exact—but this was their first time squaring off in AAU. Different states, different teams, but the same competitive fire.
Not that Azzi was nervous or anything. Okay, maybe a little. Winning mattered—not just for the scoreboard, but for the bragging rights. So when she spotted Paige during warm-ups, she flashed a quick, confident smile and locked in.
At least, she tried to stay locked in—until the tip-off, when Paige casually strolled over to her side, leaned in, and whispered
“You look so pretty, Azz. Can’t wait to beat you on the court.”
Azzi’s eyes rolled so hard she nearly saw the back of her skull, and her stomach did a full somersault. But she wasn’t about to let Paige get in her head. So she hip-checked her, smirked, and shot back:
“Good luck losing, P.”
The moment the whistle blew, it was war.
Azzi and Paige went at each other like they’d been waiting their whole lives for this—every drive, every shot, every defensive stop charged with something electric. The problem? Azzi’s team couldn’t keep up. Every perfect pass was fumbled. Every set play collapsed. By halftime, she’d already dropped 20 points—and they were still down 15.
Paige noticed.
She wanted to win—badly—but watching Azzi fight so hard, alone, made something twist in her chest. Azzi was having the kind of night players dreamed of, yet the score kept slipping further away.
Paige tightened her defense, face-guarding Azzi as they traded blows.
"Your shooting form is so perfect, Az," Paige teased, sticking to her like a shadow. "Let’s see if you can make it count."
Azzi, breathing hard, shot back, "Keep talking, P. I’ll still drop 40 on you." But she knew that the game was slipping away from her finger tips.
Their banter was playful, but the tension was real. The crowd buzzed, mesmerized as they went bucket-for-bucket—Paige with the advantage of a stacked team, Azzi with nothing but sheer will.
The crowd roared as Azzi pulled up from deep - nothing but net.
Again. And Again. And Again.
The gymnasium buzzed with electricity as she single-handedly kept her team within striking distance against Paige's powerhouse squad. Every time Azzi scored, the cheers grew louder, the energy more palpable. She wasn't just playing basketball - she was putting on a show, a masterclass in determination against impossible odds.
Paige wiped sweat from her brow, watching as Jason - that obnoxious guy from yesterday who needed to develop a sudden interest in Antarctic exploration - led a new chant: "A-Z-Z-I! Best game! Cutest dimples!" The entire gym picked it up, their voices bouncing off the rafters.
"Seriously?" Paige muttered under her breath, stealing a glance at Azzi, who was trying (and failing) to hide her grin as she backpedaled on defense. That dimpled smile only fueled Paige's competitive fire hotter.
Then came the play that changed everything.
Third quarter. Two minutes left. Paige's team up 28. The game should have been over, but Azzi kept coming, kept fighting. She split the defense with a vicious crossover, driving hard to the basket when-
CRACK.
Paige's teammate - Sarah, a senior with a mean streak and obvious jealousy issues (to be fair, Paige was never her biggest fan, she was not the best player and was definitely selfish which made no sense to a team sport like basketball) - stepped in late and threw a dirty hip-check that sent Azzi airborne.
Time seemed to stop as Azzi's body crashed to the hardwood, the sickening thud echoing through the suddenly silent gym.
Paige saw red.
In three long strides, she was in Sarah's face, shoving her backward. "What the actual hell was that?" Paige's voice shook with barely contained rage. "We don't play dirty!"
Sarah smirked, wiping her hands on her shorts. "Someone had to slow her down. She's making us look bad."
"We're up twenty-eight!" Paige's hands balled into fists at her sides. "You're just jealous because-"
"Because what?" Sarah challenged, stepping closer. "Because this whole tournament's in love with her? Including that little boy over there?" She jerked her chin toward Jason, who was looking worried from the stands…
That girl - that jealous, 18-year-old senior - had just deliberately hurt her best friend. Her Azzi. The one who FaceTimed her every night until they both fell asleep mid-sentence. The one whose dimples appeared even when she was trying to be serious. The one who'd sobbed into Paige's shoulder when Olaf melted in Frozen, whispering "But he was just trying to help Anna" between hiccuping breaths.
And now she was on the ground, clutching her side in pain.
Paige's world narrowed to a single point of white-hot rage. The sounds of the gym faded - the shocked gasps, the concerned murmurs, even the referee's whistle disappeared. All she could see was Sarah's smug face and Azzi's pained expression. Her hands trembled with barely restrained fury as she took another threatening step forward, muscles coiled like a spring-
"Paige."
That voice—Azzi's voice, strained but achingly familiar—sliced through Paige's red haze like dawn breaking through a storm. It had always been her anchor, this connection that transcended distance and circumstance. When they were states apart and Paige's late-night frustration texts came through in all caps. When that careless turnover during the U17 championships nearly cost them everything, and Azzi's quiet "We got this, P" steadied her trembling hands. When narrow-minded whispers about Azzi's skin tone curled through Argentinian gyms like poison smoke, and Paige felt her fists clench until Azzi's fingers laced through hers—wordless, unshakable.
Just one word. Just her name. But it was enough to make the world start turning again.
Azzi was still on the ground, clutching her ribs, but her eyes were locked on Paige. Not the trainers rushing over. Not her own teammates. Paige.
The blonde exhaled sharply, the fight draining from her shoulders as she turned away from Sarah and dropped to one knee beside Azzi.
"You okay?" The words came out rougher than she intended.
Azzi winced as she tried to sit up. "Oh now you care?" Despite the pain, that trademark smirk played at her lips.
"Shut up," Paige shot back, but there was no heat in it. She slipped an arm behind Azzi's shoulders to help her up. "Can you stand or not?"
Behind them, Sarah's venomous whisper cut through the murmuring crowd: "Unbelievable. Queen Paige bending the rules for her little crush.”
Paige didn't bother turning. Her response came low and dangerous, each word measured like a knife thrust: "It's called sportsmanship. Look it up sometime." Then, barely audible but razor-sharp, she added: "And that's my best friend, you bitch."
Her fingers lingered on Azzi's elbow - a fleeting touch that said everything her words couldn't. The warmth of contact, the unspoken check-in, the silent promise that this wasn't over.
The arena erupted as Azzi waved off the trainer with that stubborn set to her jaw Paige knew so well. When she tested her weight, rolling her ankle with careful precision, that trademark grin flashed - bright enough to make Paige's chest tighten.
"Might wanna leash your attack dog," Azzi teased, eyes glinting with challenge, "before I return the favor."
Paige snorted, the sound equal parts exasperation and reluctant admiration. "Please. Like you'd fight dirty." But her gaze betrayed her, scanning every microexpression on Azzi's face for signs of real pain - the slight tightening around her eyes, the barely-there hitch in her breathing that no one else would notice.
The gym fell into that charged silence unique to crucial free throws. Paige remained rooted, watching with singular focus as Azzi's routine unfolded - two precise dribbles, that steadying exhale Paige had watched her practice a thousand times, then-
Swish.
The explosion of sound was deafening. Jason and his cronies leapt up like puppets on strings, their obnoxious cheers grating on Paige's nerves. (She hated how his eyes tracked Azzi's every move, hated how he reduced her best friend to "hot" when Azzi was so much more - and if that realization made Paige's stomach twist, well, that was nobody's business.)
But all that noise faded to static as Paige watched Azzi's face transform - the way her eyes lit up with that pure, unfiltered joy that made the scoreboard irrelevant, the pain meaningless, the whole world narrow to this moment.
The whistle's shrill note brought them back. As they retreated on defense, Paige caught Azzi's eye across the court and mouthed two familiar words - their words: "Show off."
And when Azzi grinned back - that full, dimpled smile that had been Paige's favorite since they were fourteen - it felt like winning something far more important than a game.
By the fourth quarter, both Azzi and Paige were benched—each on their own team’s sidelines, but their eyes kept finding each other across the court. Paige couldn’t help but watch in awe. Even down by 32, Azzi was still leading. Leaning forward on the bench, calling out plays, clapping for teammates who—let’s be real—probably shouldn’t have been playing competitive basketball. But that was Azzi. Relentless, even in a lost cause.
And when one of her drawn-up plays actually worked, her smile lit up the entire gym. Paige had seen that grin a thousand times—during late-night snack runs where Paige sad she would drive azzi to get her favorite type of ice cream, when they’d FaceTimed each other after stupid fights—but it still hit her the same way every time.
Like sunlight breaking through clouds.
When the final buzzer sounded, Paige’s team won by 29. But as the players lined up for post-game handshakes, Azzi tugged Paige closer by the jersey, her lips brushing Paige’s ear.
"You won," she whispered, breath warm against Paige’s skin. "But I still dropped more points than you."
Paige’s stomach did a backflip. She should’ve fired back with some cocky remark, should’ve rolled her eyes and called Azzi a sore loser. But instead, she just smiled—genuine, unguarded, proud. Because damn it, Azzi had been unreal tonight.
Then Sarah ruined the moment. Again.
When Azzi extended her fist for the customary bump, Sarah pretended not to see, walking right past her with a dismissive scoff. And, Paige’s blood went from warm to boiling in half a second.
Before Azzi could even react, Paige grabbed Sarah’s wrist, yanking her back hard enough to make her stumble.
"What the hell is your problem?" Paige hissed, voice low and dangerous.
Sarah jerked her arm free, glaring. "You’re really picking her over your own team?"
"I’m picking respect over whatever petty bullshit you’re on," Paige shot back. "Apologize. Now."
The gym had gone eerily quiet. Even the refs were watching.
Sarah’s jaw tightened, but under Paige’s furious stare, she finally muttered, "Whatever. Sorry, I guess."
Azzi, still standing there, just arched a brow. "Wow. That was almost convincing."
Paige bit back a laugh.
As Sarah stormed off, Paige felt Azzi's shoulder bump against hers, their fingers brushing in that silent language only they understood. The contact lasted barely a second, but it carried volumes - admiration, solidarity, something warmer than either would name.
Then came the Fudd family, cutting through the dispersing crowd like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. "My two favorite warriors!" Azzi's mom beamed, already raising her phone. "We need pictures - this was historic!"
Azzi groaned but didn't resist as her parents pulled them together. "Mom, we just got our butts kicked-"
"Nonsense!" Her father interjected, throwing an arm around both girls. His coaching instincts surfaced as he addressed Paige: "You played lights out, kid, but..." He tapped his temple knowingly. "Third quarter? Should've forced left more often. Right side was overplaying you all night."
Paige felt her cheeks flush - not from criticism, but from how effortlessly he included her in his basketball wisdom. The way he analyzed her game with the same attentive care he gave Azzi.
"You're absolutely right, Coach," she admitted, rubbing her neck. "I got too comfortable with the cross-court passes."
Azzi's dad grinned, squeezing them tighter. "Ah, but when you two matched up?" He whistled. "Best basketball I've seen all season. Even if someone-" he pinched Azzi's cheek, "-needs to work on her help defense."
"Dad!" Azzi swatted his hand away, but her protest dissolved into laughter when Paige joined in teasing her.
As camera flashes popped around them, Paige caught herself leaning into this moment - into the easy way Azzi's parents folded her into their family orbit. The way Mrs. Fudd fixed Paige's sweaty ponytail without asking, the way Coach Fudd's advice carried both challenge and belief.
Azzi met her eyes over their posed smiles, and in that glance Paige saw understanding. This family wasn't just becoming important to her. They were becoming hers.
"Mom, where are we eating? We’re starving."
Azzi’s voice was half-whine, half-laugh as she tugged at her jersey, still damp with sweat from the game.
Miss Fudd smiled sweetly at Paige—a smile that carried just a little too much knowing amusement—then turned to Azzi.
"Well," she said, tapping her chin, "Paige actually asked me earlier if she could take you out tonight. Just the two of you."
Azzi’s head whipped toward Paige so fast her braids smacked her own cheek. "You—what?"
Paige’s face burned. She hadn’t expected Mrs. Fudd to just announce it like that. She’d imagined pulling Azzi aside later, playing it cool—Hey, there’s this place I found, you wanna check it out?—not having it laid bare in front of her entire family.
“I mean, yeah,” Paige muttered, suddenly very interested in retying her shoelaces. “If you want. No big deal.” She kept her voice casual, but the words came out too fast. “Just thought since it’s our last night, and I’m flying back to Minnesota after lunch tomorrow, and we don’t have a game—”
Azzi’s eyes narrowed, stoping Paige’s resembling to remember that Paige had asked her parents permission. "You asked my mom? Like, formally?"
"I was being polite," Paige shot back, defensive. "Unlike some people who just show up at my house unannounced and eat all my cereal."
Azzi opened her mouth to retaliate, but her mom cut in, laughter in her voice. "It’s settled, then. You two go have fun. But, Azzi—" She held up a warning finger. "Phone on. Loud. And back by eleven."
"Mom, we’re not twelve," Azzi groaned.
"And yet," her dad chimed in without looking up from his clipboard, "somehow, you still forget to text when you're running late."
Paige bit back a grin. Then she leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of Azzi's ear as she whispered: "Go get ready, princess. I'll meet you in an hour at our hotel lobby."
The reaction was instant—Azzi’s breath hitched, her neck flushing pink where Paige’s words had touched skin. (Totally normal best friend behavior, she told herself.)
"Bold of you to assume I'm saying yes," she muttered, but the way her fingers twitched against her gym bag strap betrayed her.
Paige smirked, stepping back. “You will. And wear something white.” A pause, just long enough to make Azzi’s pulse jump. “So we can match.”
And of course—Azzi did.
——
Paige had changed four times before settling on dark jeans and a crisp white button-down, sleeves rolled to her elbows. Casual but put-together—the perfect balance between I didn’t try too hard and I absolutely did, but I’ll deny it if you call me out.
(Which Azzi always did.)
Meanwhile, Azzi stood frozen in her bathroom, clutching a tube of mascara like it might bite her. Since when do you care this much? She’d swiped on a little makeup—just enough to make her eyes pop, just subtle enough to play it off as habit. The sweater was fine. The jeans were fine. Everything’s fine.
The elevator dinged, and there she was—soft blue sweater clinging to her shoulders, and white jeans that should’ve been illegal, hair still damp and curling at the ends where it brushed her collarbones. Paige’s throat went dry.
"You’re late," Paige said, checking her watch with exaggerated annoyance.
Azzi rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth tugged up. "By two minutes. And you’re staring."
"Am not."
"You literally haven’t blinked since the doors opened." Azzi stepped closer, tilting her head. Was the mascara too much? Did she notice? "What, do I have something on my face?"
Yes. Your face. Which is the problem.
Paige swallowed hard. "Shut up and let’s go. We’re gonna miss our reservation."
Azzi grinned. "Oh, so it’s a reservation now? Not just ‘grabbing food’ like you said?"
"I hate you."
"You love me."
Paige’s chest tightened. Yeah. That’s the issue.
The walk to the place was quick, and in silence. Both teenagers immerse in their own thoughts. Paige had scouted this place carefully—a small Italian spot with dim lighting, great pasta, and, most importantly, atmosphere. Quiet enough to talk, but not so fancy they’d feel awkward. Just… intimate.
Not a date. Best friends can have intimate dinners.
The second they walked in, Azzi’s eyebrows shot up. "Ohhh. This kind of dinner."
Paige’s stomach dropped. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." Azzi smirked, trailing a finger over the white tablecloth. "Just… candles? Fancy napkins? You reserved this, didn’t you?"
Paige had. She’d also requested the corner booth and may or may not have Googled best date spots in the city before remembering—not a date.
"Shut up," she muttered, sliding into the seat. "I just didn’t wanna end up at some chain place with your dad’s playbook spread over the table."
Azzi laughed, leaning forward. "You planned this. Admit it."
Paige’s pulse spiked. Azzi was too close, her grin too knowing. "Yeah, well," she deflected, "someone had to. You’d have dragged me to the first smoothie place you saw."
"Damn right." Azzi picked up the menu, then paused. "P… there’s nothing here you’d eat. No fries. No plain chicken tenders. Just… vegetables." She squinted. "Did you pick this place for me?"
Paige’s ears burned. "No. I just… wanted to try something new."
Azzi’s expression softened. "You hate new."
"I don’t hate it."
"You once cried over a menu because they ‘changed the fries.’"
"That was one time—"
Azzi reached across the table, her fingers brushing Paige’s wrist. "Hey." Her voice was quieter now, teasing but tender. "You could’ve just said you wanted to take me somewhere nice."
Paige’s breath caught. Because it’s you. Because I’d sit through a hundred vegetable plates if it meant watching you smile like this. Instead, she shrugged. "Figured you deserved a break from my culinary crimes."
Azzi squeezed her hand. "You’re ridiculous."
Their conversation flowed as easily as it always did—like they were picking up right where they’d left off, like no time had passed at all. Dinner was… perfect. And they’d missed each other so much - being best friends in different states was not for the weak.
They argued over breadsticks (Paige dunked hers in ranch; which the brunette called it a "culinary crime"). They debated the best NBA players which was not a big discussion given that Azzi had very limites knowledge on the matter (Paige fought hard for Luka; Azzi, predictably, Steph).
They laughed so hard at one point that the couple next to them shot them dirty looks, and Azzi had to press her napkin to her mouth to stifle a snort. And the blonde found that the most cute thing ever, but she would deny that with her life.
But then, as the waiter cleared their plates, Azzi grew quiet. She traced the rim of her glass, her voice softer when she finally spoke.
"You didn’t have to do this, you know."
Paige frowned. "Do what, Az?”
"All of it." Azzi gestured between them. "The dinner, the… whatever this is. We could have done something casual. Your company Is more than enough, P.”
Paige’s chest tightened.
"I didn’t want to," she said instead.
Azzi looked up, holding her gaze. "Why not?"
The air between them crackled. Paige’s mouth went dry. She was not quite sure of the “why”.
But before she could answer, Azzi’s phone buzzed loudly on the table.
MOM: 30 minutes, Azzi. Don’t make me come find you.
The spell broke. Azzi groaned, flopping back in her seat. "Ugh, kill me."
Paige exhaled, equal parts relieved and frustrated. "
C’mon, I will ask for the check, and we can still make it on time. Don’t worry princess.“
When the check came, Azzi immediately reached for her wallet. "Split it?"
The blonde snatched the bill before the younger girl’s fingers could graze it. "Nope."
Azzi rolled her eyes. "Come on, P. I ate half your breadsticks. Least I can do is—"
"I invited you," Paige said firmly, sliding her card into the leather folder before Azzi could protest. "My treat."
Azzi opened her mouth to argue—then stopped.
There was something in the way Paige said it. Not just stubborn, but certain. Like it mattered to her. Like this—taking care of Azzi, even in this small way—was something she wanted to do.
A strange warmth fluttered in Azzi’s chest.
Oh.
She’d always teased Paige for being competitive, but this wasn’t that. This was… intentional. The way Paige had picked the restaurant knowing Azzi would love it. The way she’d insisted on walking her back. The way she was looking at her now—chin tilted, eyes soft—like Azzi was something precious.
You do this a lot, don’t you?
The realization hit her like a delayed pass, right to the ribs.
Paige always took care of her.
The extra Gatorade in her bag when Azzi forgot hers. The way she’d text "You good?" after a tough loss. The time she’d had sent a care package all the way from Minessota because Azzi had mentioned feeling sick during a FaceTime. All these little things, piling up.
And Azzi—oblivious, glitchy Azzi—had never let herself think about why it made her stomach swoop.
So, she decided to be a little bold: "You never answered my question," Azzi said lightly.
"What question?"
"Mean Streets," Azzi teased, bumping her shoulder. "You still owe me that movie night."
Paige’s pulse jumped. You have no idea what you do to me. "Yeah, well. Maybe next time we’re in the same hotel."
Azzi grinned. “How about you sneak into my room tonight given that I have no roommate? "
Paige's fingers twitched against her jeans. Just a movie. Just friends. But her throat had gone dry as desert asphalt in July. "Your mom would literally murder me if she caught me sneaking in after curfew."
Azzi's eyes glittered under the hotel's exterior lights, mischief written in the curve of her smile. "Since when do you care about rules?" She stepped closer, the toe of her sneaker bumping Paige's. "Come on. We've stayed up later at tournaments. And it's not like—" Her voice dropped, suddenly shy, "—it's not like we'd be doing anything wrong."
That's the problem, Paige thought wildly. I might lose control if you keep looking at me like that.
The confession nearly slipped out right there between the parked cars and humming streetlights. Instead, she cleared her throat. "What time's lights out?"
"Eleven." Azzi rocked back on her heels, suddenly nervous. "But you don't have to—"
"I'll be there at 10:45." The words left Paige's mouth before her brain caught up. "I can bring the snacks: Sour Patch Kids and those weird peanut butter crackers you like too.”
Azzi's resulting smile could've powered the entire hotel.
"Deal."
She turned toward the entrance, then glanced back over her shoulder, damp brunette curls catching the light. "Don't chicken out, you already know my room number.”
And to be fair, Paige had actually memorized it the second azzi told her.
10:42 PM - Third Floor Hallway
Paige counted doors with her heartbeat thundering in her ears. 1124...1126... The ice machine down the hall rattled like her nerves. This was stupid. This shouldn't feel so monumental. They'd shared beds before—crammed together in the Fudds' cabin last summer, limbs tangled during movie nights in Minnesota.
But those times had been easy. Safe.
They were also never actually alone.
Never after Azzi had looked at her like that over breadsticks.
She raised her hand to knock—then froze.
She was freaking out because she knew what this meant. It was painfully clear she had a crush on her best friend. But did Azzi feel the same? What would that even mean for them? For their friendship? ? And then there was Jason—the guy Azzi had shut down, but still. He was a boy, and that somehow made it different.
She remembered their conversation last night—Azzi confessing she’d never kissed anyone, Paige admitting her own experiences weren’t as wild as people assumed. The way Azzi’s eyes had lingered when she’d said, "you already know my room number."
Before she could second-guess herself any longer, Paige knocked.
The door swung open almost immediately—like Azzi had been waiting on the other side.
And there she was: damp curls framing her face, oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, pajama shorts that Paige was pretty sure were hers (stolen in Minnesota, no doubt).
"You gonna stand out here all night?" Azzi smirked. "Or are you coming in?"
Paige’s throat went dry. "Was working up to it."
"Scared, Bueckers?"
"Of you? Please."
The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in the warm, vanilla-scented dark.
94 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mission Report
Pairings: Incubus!Stucky x Enhanced!Female Reader, Incubus!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Incubus!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: After a night with the two demons, Brock comes to collect your body and faces the fury of all three of you. Word Count: Over 4k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, threesome, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, spitroasting, blood, violence (shooting, stabbing, and more), physical and mental torture, dark elements, death, revenge, implied noncon, possessive behavior, supernatural elements, Incubus Stucky (that's a warning, lovelies!). A/N: Fic #10 and final fic for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! I had to revisit my incubi the day before Halloween and this is a direct follow up to Ready to Comply. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!


Less than a day passed since Bucky and Steve claimed you as their own, but it felt like you always belonged to them. You were their eternal award for their capture. They were your reward for the pain you endured. The three of you would scorch the earth together.
Your captors weren't strong enough to endure the flames.
As you lay naked on the floor as instructed, you counted the footsteps as the squad members got closer. There were three pairs of heavy boots, one set which belonged to Brock Rumlow. You almost pushed yourself up when fiery anger coursed through your veins. You wanted him turned to ash just so you could watch the wind blow him away into nothingness. It would be glorious to smile in the face of his demise.
“She feels your rage, Buck. Reign it in,” Steve ordered from where he sat in the corner.
“No,” Bucky spoke in an almost laidback tone from the opposite corner. “Let her feel it.”
In the very short time they bound you to them, you figured out that Steve was the more assertive of the two. It didn't mean Bucky wasn't forceful when he had to be. At the moment though, he wanted you to feel a bit more of his impulsive side.
“Now isn’t the time,” Steve chastised, making Bucky scoff in reply.
You lost the concept of time the day you were unwillingly taken under Hydra's wing. Counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds did you no good as you waited for whatever horror they decided to unleash upon you. The days were no longer a precious gift, but a stark reminder that you were closer to death.
A sound reminiscent of a snarl escaped as you opened your mouth. “Hydra took everything from me,” you grumbled as angry tears sprang to your eyes. “I want their blood to stain the ground. I want it to paint the walls.”
Thanks to the demons in your cell, your demons, you would get your revenge. You would live to fight again. And you would live to serve them. You promised them forever, after all.
An odd sense of comfort surrounded you and allowed you to breathe a bit easier. “We can feel your pain, sweetheart,” Steve whispered.
Bucky hummed, the warmth doubling within your chest. “We can also feel your strength, doll.”
“We'll spill their blood,” the blonde promised as you blinked the tears away. “But not if you're impatient. We need you to act docile when they take you out of the room.”
“Stevie's right. We know you're angry. We all are. They'll pay. Trust us,” the brunette agreed. “And we'll have lots of fun along the way.”
Demons were many things and played lots of tricks, but one thing they wouldn't do was lie to you. It allowed you to let the hurt go for the time being. “I'll behave,” you whispered when the footsteps stopped in front of the door.
“That's our girl,” the incubi said in unison, the words wrapping around your heart and reminding you that you weren't alone in this fight.
The bond crackled between the three of you as the door swung open. It allowed you to remain still, just like they told you to. You made no move to cover yourself as the men observed you on the floor. Your demons also made no move to go toward them. With the symbol above the doorway, there was no way for them to escape.
Yet.
“Well, well, well. I thought we’d find a corpse when we opened the door,” Brock smirked. Instead of snapping back the way you wanted to, you made a wounded sound instead. “But I guess they fucked the fight out of you after all.”
“She was a lot of fun to play with,” Bucky said, the phantom touch of his claw moving along your back easing you. “Really does go pliant with a cock in her.”
You had to bite your lip to suppress your moan. They wrung so much pleasure out of you that you stopped counting the orgasms. You were certain their seed was still dripping out of your holes.
“She was stronger than most,” Steve added, one of his claws joining Bucky’s as you made another small sound. It was arousing as much as it was calming. As fun as it would be to beg for their cocks in front of these men, now wasn’t the time to play. And the guards weren’t an audience who deserved to watch you get off. “Feel free to bring her back.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fucking freaks,” Brock sneered, his hand tightening around the taser prod on his hip. “Get up, bitch. We don’t have all day.”
You slowly lifted your head and held a hand out. All you had to do was pretend just a little bit longer. “Help me,” you whispered.
His lip curled in a dark smirk as he stayed in place. “You really think I’m dumb enough to go in there? Nice fucking try. Crawl if you can't walk.”
Bucky growled in your mind and Steve’s fury simmered in your core as you began to drag yourself across the cold floor, both of your demons itching to attack when the men laughed at your “weakened” state. You let them have their fun. It would be one of the last things they ever did in this world. And it would be your laughter ringing in their ears once their souls went to Hell.
Soon.
Once you crawled far enough out of the room, the guards finally moved to grab you. They each took an arm and yanked you to your feet, uncaring of your discomfort, as your head lolled from side to side. Brock’s eyes lewedly dragged along your shivering frame before he grabbed your chin and forced you to look into his dark eyes. There was no mercy in his gaze.
And you felt none in your heart for him.
The fingers on your chin tightened painfully, but you didn’t give Brock the satisfaction of whimpering. “Did you learn your lesson?”
“Yes, sir,” you answered before he forced you to look over your shoulder, your neck straining from the angle. Bucky and Steve’s eyes glowed a furious shade of red as they moved to the center of the room and stared you both down. It would’ve frightened you if you didn’t know that they were yours.
“I think they miss you already. Slut,” Brock taunted, saliva hitting your cheek as he roughly released you and walked down the hall. “Bring her to my office. Let’s see her fight back when she can barely stand on her own two feet.”
Steve whispered one word as the men began to drag you away. “Now.”
A surge of energy flowed through you as you harshly shoved the guard to your right away with enough force that he smacked the wall. Before the other guard could react, you grabbed his gun from his holster and aimed at his head. “Safety first,” you said, firing a bullet through his skull.
“Stupid bitch,” the first guard snapped as he straightened up. You grabbed his wrist when he reached for his gun, his skin warming under your touch as he gasped air. Just as quickly as his skin grew hot, he grew deathly cold.
“You feel that?” Bucky moaned.
“I feel it,” Steve confirmed. “She's giving us his energy.”
You didn't know how you were doing that since Bucky and Steve used sex to drain life force. Were you a conduit now thanks to your bond? Just how powerful had they made you?
“Help,” the guard gasped before you pressed the gun to his forehead and fired. You smiled when his body hit the floor. It felt like minutes, but happened in the span of seconds.
The blood along the walls also brought an unexpected moan out of you.
Blood. Red. Lust.
“That’s our girl,” Steve praised.
“Good fucking girl,” Bucky added, their pride in you making you whimper.
“Really?” Brock muttered from the end of the hall as he turned to face you, his gun in hand as you shrugged. “I should’ve known you’d do something stupid. Now I need to hire two more men.”
“Actually, you’re the one who did something stupid by giving me to them,” you said, gesturing behind you. “And we’re going to kill you.”
Your captor’s scoff made you smile more. He didn’t believe you, but you couldn’t wait to prove him wrong. “Just because you have the serum doesn't mean you're not expendable,” he said, aiming the gun at your heart. “Let's see you try and kill me with a bullet in your chest, bitch.”
“You’re not going to shoot me,” you spoke in a low and hypnotic voice. It wasn’t your own. Your demons were speaking through you. “You’re going to shoot the symbol above the door until you run out of bullets and drop your weapon.”
A bead of sweat rolled down Brock’s forehead as he slowly raised his arm higher, the veins in his neck straining as he tried to resist the order. He had every reason to be afraid. The marking was the only reason Bucky and Steve hadn’t killed him yet. Once they were free, he’d have to answer for his sins.
“What the fuck?” he asked.
“Doesn't feel good to not be in control, does it?” you replied, taking great pleasure in knowing he couldn't stop himself. “Shoot.”
You stared him down as he fired the first shot, watching him grit his teeth. Your nipples hardened as he fired again and you couldn’t help but dip a hand between your legs as power continued to move through you. It shouldn’t have aroused you so much with two dead bodies nearby, but revenge was exhilarating to say the least.
“Don’t get started without us,” Bucky called out, even as you envisioned him wrapping a hand around his cock. With a whine, you grudgingly stopped touching yourself. “I wanna taste you while he begs for his life.”
“Oh, he’ll beg,” Steve smirked, his claws scratching the wall by the door. “And we won’t listen to his prayers.”
“Shit,” Brock groaned, his arm trembling as he took his last shot.
The hall went silent as you dared to look behind you. Whatever marking that kept the demons trapped in that cell was gone now, lost in a pile of rubble and dust on the ground. “It’s time to play,” you said, urging them to come out.
The gun fell from Brock’s hand as Steve took the first step. He sighed happily when nothing prevented him from walking through, but the glow of his eyes was anything but comforting as he looked at Brock. With unnatural speed, he flew toward him as he reached for his radio. The snap of his wrist breaking was one of the best sounds you’d ever heard.
“Mmm. Break his other wrist, Stevie,” Bucky suggested as he stepped out of the room and joined you at your side. You gasped when he pulled you in front of him to grind his hips against you, his cock hard and hot against your skin. “Make him scream.”
“Fuck-” Brock screamed as Steve snapped his other wrist, his hands useless as the blonde demon grinned.
Steve brought his finger to his mouth and licked a drop of blood away. “You taste bitter,” he taunted before he lifted his head. “Another guard is on the way.”
Bucky chuckled as said man entered the hall a moment later. “All alone? That's brave and stupid.”
“Oh, my God,” he said as he surveyed the scene.
It had to be quite the sight. Blood and brain matter along the walls, the man's boss on the ground in pain, you and your demons naked and unafraid. Haunting and beautiful.
“There's no God here,” Bucky smirked as he lazily rocked his hips against you. “But feel free to pray anyway.”
“Do something!” Brock ordered through his pain.
Bucky spoke a command in his natural tongue as the guard dropped his gun. Fear radiated from him as he took a knife from his belt and turned the edge toward his throat. “I don't wanna-” he shoved the blade deep in his neck with wide eyes before he could finish his statement, gurgling as he collapsed.
“Die,” you whispered, completing his sentence.
You had to bite back a moan as Bucky turned your head to meet your lips in a filthy kiss, Steve smirking as he looked back at you two. The carnage fueled their need as much as yours. As the coppery scent of the blood continued to fill your nostrils, you justified that this was the right thing to do. The men made their beds.
They could die in them.
“Come in,” a voice on Brock's radio rang out.
“Shh. Don’t make a sound,” Steve ordered, grabbing Brock’s radio as the operative went eerily silent. His eyes bulged as the demon began to speak with his voice. “Go ahead.”
“Thought I heard commotion in the hall. Sent David in to assist. Do you need more backup? Over.”
“Negative. Subject tried to escape and we subdued her. All clear. But no one is to go in the South Wing, no matter what you see or hear. And tell all S.T.R.I.K.E. members to gather in the debriefing room and await further instructions. Over.”
“But sir-”
Steve's eyes flashed as he continued to speak like Brock. “Did I fucking stutter? Get the men there and stay the fuck out of here. That's a direct order. Over.”
“Roger that.”
Bucky chuckled when Steve crushed the radio in his hand. No alarms rang out. No soldiers ran down the hall to recapture you. There were no lockdowns. Brock knew he was fucked.
And not in the way you would be.
“You know, Rumlow. You truly are a dark soul with a penchant for pain,” the brunette began, nipping your shoulder as his hands roamed your body. “We could’ve worked out some sort of deal with you. Given you true power. But you just had to lock us up.”
Something dark surfaced from the depths of your mind as you listened. You saw yourself curled up, naked and trembling, in the corner of a cell similar to the one they kept your demons in as Brock advanced on you. “Make yourself useful or you’ll die choking on my cock,” he threatened. It was a memory you kept locked away after they captured you and shot you up with the serum. One they thought they erased for good.
The anguish was almost enough to drown yourself in.
“And you just had to hurt our girl,” Steve snarled, swiping his claws across Brock’s cheek when you whined.
“No one hurts our girl,” Bucky growled over his cry as blood sprayed from the open wounds.
You no longer felt like you were drowning as they fed you strength, allowing you to see clearly again. You always wanted someone protective by your side. Someone to fight for you. Now you had two beside you.
“He can’t hurt me anymore,” you said as the blonde grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back down the hall toward you. He may have yanked a few strands out along the way. “Would you like to hear my mission report, Rumlow?”
His chest heaved a bit as he lay on the ground, trying to breath steadily through the pain. “Yes,” he lied, knowing better than to smart off again.
You arched your back when Bucky covered your breast with his hand, squeezing it gently as Steve joined you and began to play with the other. “You tossed me in their cell with the hopes they’d drain my energy, but I came out stronger. You know why? Because I gave myself to them. All of me,” you explained. A gunshot rang out before Brock screamed and grabbed his knee, the pistol you stole from the dead guard now in Steve's hand. “Their power flows through my veins and my soul belongs to them. We’re bound to each other.”
“And her energy is delicious. Just like her cunt,” Bucky smiled as he turned and shoved you into Steve’s arms. He sank to his knees and winked before he tossed your leg over his shoulder, nosing at your slit. “Hold my horns if you need to.”
“I supposed we should thank you,” Steve said, tossing the gun away. He brought a hand back to your breast, pinching your nipple as Bucky licked along your folds. You grabbed his horns and squeezed when his wicked tongue got to work. “Whatever you injected her with helped her survive what would've killed a normal human. And the more we fucked her, the more she needed us.”
“Such a greedy, pretty thing when she takes our cocks,” Bucky spoke against your pussy, the image of him fucking your throat while Steve took you from behind shimmering in your mind. You could feel them inside you, claiming you as theirs. “Didn’t even take much for her to come when we took her ass.”
Your holes clenched, desperate for them to fill you again. “You tried to turn me into a weapon,” you moaned, smiling as blood dripped from Brock’s leg. “I guess, in a way, you succeeded. Because we’re going to destroy Hydra.”
Bucky flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit as you squirmed. It wasn't enough. You needed more. “Three guards down.”
Steve smiled as he kissed along your neck, his lips lingering on your pulse. “And you’re next, Rumlow.”
“No,” Brock breathed, pushing himself up with his elbow. Fire filled your eyes when he met your gaze, his face going pale under your stare. Were your eyes glowing? “I-I can still join you. I can help.”
“I don’t think you can help us,” Steve said, nodding down to Bucky. His tongue stabbed deep with a moan as he swiped his hand along Brock’s thigh, his claws tearing through the tactical pants and skin. More blood splattered as he screamed in agony. “But you can bleed.”
“Beg. I want you to beg for me to save you,” you moaned, grinding against the brunette’s face before your expression twisted with anger. “I was innocent, you piece of shit.”
Where was your innocence now? Gone. Destroyed. But you made a choice. You allowed yourself to slip into darkness by joining forces with the incubi they captured. And you didn't regret it for a second.
“Please,” Brock said above a whisper, trying in vain to cover his wounds. How much had it taken for him to say that single word? “I-I was just following orders. I'm sorry. Save me.”
You regarded Brock with an unsympathetic gaze. You could show him compassion that he never bestowed upon you and let him see that there was still good in you. But where was the fun in that? What kindness did you possibly owe him?
You glanced back at Steve as you considered it, who merely smiled and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You felt Bucky smile, too. They encouraged your fury, fueled it. These demons truly were glorious. Horrifying.
And they were yours.
“You're not sorry and you know the orders were bullshit. So as far as saving you?” You asked, smiling when the realization of his doom crossed his face. “No, I don’t think I will.”
Brock's hands flew to his head as he let out a cry of anguish. It filled the hall, like a song of agony as the lights flickered. The sound almost shook you to your core, but it fed into your growing darkness. You embraced it with a smile.
“Do you know who those screams in your head belong to?” Steve asked evenly as Brock continued to yell and thrash around. “That's the suffering of every person you ever hurt. All the pain you caused.”
Bucky pulled his mouth away to glare at him. “Including our girl.”
How many bodies had Brock and his men left on their path of destruction? How many lives had they ruined? It was only fair to return the favor.
“Stop it! Make it stop!” Brock cried, slamming the back of his head against the ground with enough force to crack it. “Stop!”
You cried out when Bucky shoved two fingers inside you, his claws careful not to cut you as he thrust deep. “You're close, doll. Dripping down my fingers,” he said, the sound of your wetness blending in beautifully with the wail of pain.
“He's close, too,” Steve said in your ear as he reached down to toy with your clit, playing with the sensitive bud with a grunt. You hardly paid any attention to Brock now, even as his body twitched and blood from his skull stained the floor. He was inconsequential to you as the light began to fade from his eyes. He was nothing. “It's the end for him.”
Bucky twisted his fingers with a smirk, your pussy quivering as you were ready to fall apart. “Come while he takes his last breath. Let go. Let it all go.”
Your vision swam as you did as he commanded, your entire body throbbing with pleasure. You felt the air leave Brock's lungs as bliss flooded you, Bucky's groan obscene as he brought his mout back to lick up your essence. Steve held onto you as you lost yourself, every part of you inside and out owned by their touch.
In that moment, you were invincible.
“Good fucking girl,” Bucky said, his mouth and chin wet from your release as he took his fingers out and lowered your shaky limb from his shoulder. “Damn. I thought he'd last a little longer. I wanted to shove his taser rod up his ass.”
“You still can,” Steve said, kissing your shoulder. “You did so well, sweetheart. You okay?”
The praise from both of them made you preen as you looked at the surrounding carnage, slowly coming down from your high. “I'm better than okay,” you exhaled, reaching out with your foot to nudge Brock's body, relief hitting you square in the chest when he didn’t move. Your tormentor was dead. And you wouldn't shed a single tear for him. “He's gone. He's really gone.”
“He is. And we're free, thanks to you, doll,” Bucky spoke, licking his fingers clean before he stroked himself, a cool shade of blue flickering from his red eyes. “Our mate.”
I'm theirs and they're mine.
And as their mate, you had to thank them. Take care of them. Worship their hard and aching cocks the way you were made to.
“Fuck me,” you breathed.
“With pleasure,” Steve smiled, putting you on your hands and knees before he sank down behind you. He shoved his thick cock inside you with no warning, the head of it practically kissing your cervix as you screamed. “This is just the beginning. We have more lives to destroy when we’re done fucking you. For now.”
Bucky tapped his cock against your cheek affectionately before he pushed inside your eager mouth. “Alexander Pierce. Jasper Sitwell. Everyone. We'll kill them all,” he promised, snapping his hips in time with Steve as you moaned, letting them use you like a ragdoll between them. But you didn't feel used in the slightest.
You felt complete.
“You're free,” Steve grunted, bringing his palm down on your ass with a sharp slap. “We're free.”
He was right. You were finally free from the shackles Hydra tried to put on you. And you couldn't wait for the carnage the three of you would continue to spread, once you could form a coherent thought. All you wanted for now was for them to paint every hole of yours until there wasn’t a drop left.
Bucky's head fell back with an excited moan, as if he read your mind. “And we have so much time to make up for. So take our cocks and let us fill your holes before we burn this place to the ground.”
That was a mission you were more than happy to complete.
So, THAT happened and I'm not sorry. Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡
Masterlist ⚓ Stucky Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#navy's trick or treat nonsense#bucky barnes x reader#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#steve rogers x female reader#bucky barnes x you#steve rogers x you#bucky barnes x y/n#steve rogers x y/n#demon!bucky barnes x reader#demon!steve rogers x reader#incubus!bucky barnes x reader#incubus!steve rogers x reader#stucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers#bucky barnes#steve rogers#demon!bucky barnes#demon!steve rogers#incubus!bucky barnes#incubus!steve rogers#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfic#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers imagine
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Angst comfort with jealous Nikto? Maybe some comforting Nikto?
friends to something ambiguous guys! friends to something ambiguous and a little heartwrenching! i love friends to will-they-won't-they! anyway sorry if this is kinda odd?? ivebeen in sick and fever dreamy the past couple of days I've worked on this
there's a new man on your squad. the upper brass transferred him from a different squad, citing an influx of inappropriate anger toward certain people.
and the moment he shows up, nikto doesn't like him. there's something about his dark, leering eyes that makes even his skin crawl. but what seals the deal for him is that he immediately goes to talk to you.
he's all over you, every day. he'll squeeze between you and nikto with his trey in the mess hall, pushing nikto out. the man visits you before lights out, stripping you of the little time you have to relax. but worst of all, you don't seem to mind.
nikto knows that this man isn't good news, but he can't point fingers without a good reason. that'd only alienate you further. he stays up for days, digging and digging, only to come out completely empty-handed. god, he must be good at covering up his tracks… or, maybe he just doesn't have anything wrong with him.
this whole ordeal pisses him off. he can't stop thinking about your cheeks warming when you talk to your new friend, and of you dolling yourself up before you see him. oh, nikto just wants to claw his own eyes out!
maybe nikto is just jealous… ah, no. he couldn't be. he doesn't get jealous.
two weeks into your newfound friendship, it dawns on you that nikto isn't hanging around as often as he used to. it's only ever the new guy and you, and if you manage to catch nikto around base, he's brooding and disinterested. you tire of this. you miss your friend-- you miss nikto. what happened to cleaning rifles together and dozing off in eachothers' quarters? you won't stand for this any longer.
it's late at night when you confront him. your spare key still fits into his lock, and you still have to lift the door to open it. he's sitting straight up in bed with wild eyes watching you. he never looks at you like that. nikto always knows when it's you, doesn't he?
you shut the door behind you with a soft click, taking care not to stir anybody nearby. your footfalls are light against the cold, hard floor, and they stop once they reach the side of his bed. he hasn't reached for a firearm or blade of any sort. maybe he isn't as mad as you believed.
you move to sit on the edge of the mattress. what should you say? you had a faint outline for what you planned on confronting him about, but the moment you walked in and saw those wide eyes of his, none of it seemed all that important.
your head turns to look at him. his face is hardly visible under the cover of the dark, but every little shuddering breath gets his point across. he's upset, deeply so, but he can't just say that. he can't just… talk to you. it's never that easy, not for him.
but, you've come to understand him; you know when nikto is upset. and this time, you know why he's upset too.
"…i'm sorry. you need a friend, don't you? i haven't been one," you whisper.
you want to hold him tight and tell him just how sorry you are, but he'd never let you hear the end of it if you did. you know by now that he doesn't like being touched very often.
something brushes against your fingers. they curl as a twitch rolls through your knuckles, but it persists.
it's his hand, his fingers. his scuffed palm moves to lay over the back of your hand, and his nails lightly itch your wrist.
maybe this is still salvageable. jealousy may not be the end of this.
#call of duty#cod#cod mw2#cod drabble#cod fic#nikto#cod x you#call of duty nikto#cod nikto#nikto x reader#vxmpyree
194 notes
·
View notes
Text
how can you not see it?
how do we feel about the new banner style??

Details ; Aj Shabeel × (shorter)fem!reader. reader also has a channel of her own btw
Warnings ; swearing, aj is a meanie, this guy is INLOVE
Aj being the menace he is, and you being the most gullible person in the world was surely a recipe for disaster. I guess that's his way of affection. He's actually so mean, but he doesn't want you to know he means it lovingly, like romantically lovingly.
The amount of times he's told you the most bewildering piece of information ever, only then to follow with, “you fucking idiot, I was lying!” or a “no.” whenever you asked if he was really telling the truth, all while laughing at you of course.
Niko, the unhelpful best friend he is, always teases him about you, right to your face, completely dumping his efforts of trying to keep his feelings away down the drain. It's not like Aj isn't obvious either, like you could tell from a mile away that something was odd with how he acted with you. I mean, you couldn't tell, but everyone else could.
The amount of times he was called out during a beta squad shoot — where you were invited as the guest, for staring at you was absolutely outrageous, but you know what's worse? You thought it was a joke! You thought that, ‘oh they need to stop bullying Aj for shit he didn't do,’ when he was literally just staring at you the entire time instead of paying attention.
There isn't a single universe he doesn't bully you for your height, like how are you shorter than him?! Seriously, how. Also brings you up every time someone calls him shorter, always yapping about how you're shorter or whatever. It's really funny. It's also funny that he absolutely violates you with his insults, but always also defending you whenever someone tries to insult you. Not direct defending, but more like saying that they're worse than you and blah blah blah.
It feels like everyone in the beta squad — and their other friends as well, know about Aj's crush, crazy how you don't know. You know what the biggest giveaway is though? His pet peeve is physical touch, where the hell did that pet peeve go when he's around you. He isn't necessarily having physical touch with you a lot, but if you ever tried to initiate out of the blue, he didn't exactly deny it.
He's such a cutie. One time you tied up his hair into pigtails for whatever reason, he thought he looked ridiculous and everyone laughed at him, and you also did cause he looked adorable you couldn't lie. He would never actually admit it, but he wants you to play around with his hair again, he really liked it.
Absolutely no way you don't have one of his silly hats. Like, one time in a video, he brought a new one, and at some point you took his hat. Like just straight up went, “don't mind if i do!” he didn't mind of course, maybe just acted like he did but he let you wear it the rest of the video. He definitely 'forgot' to take it back — he wanted you to keep it, something about you wearing his hat, and keeping it made him feel funny, and when you texted him about it, he said not to worry and to just keep it. So that was his plan hm.
Following the last paragraph, the clip where you took his hat became one of the main intros to many ship edits of you both. Funfact: he watches those ship edits. For sure, secretly smiling like an idiot when he watches them. However, the comments he leaves say otherwise, like he replies with full on “oh hell nahhhh” but there was this one time that a fan got him to watch one while he was streaming. He couldn't hide a smile from forming on his face, no matter how hard he tried. Unsurprisingly, that also became an edit intro.
Definitely has you come over sometimes to stream with him, or to hangout whenever you both aren't busy. What a coincidence that Niko is somehow always out when you come over, Aj tells you he's busy, but Niko would tell you he wants you both to have some alone time. Streams with you are just full of teasing and bullying. Apparently, that's both of you guys' love languages.
You wouldn't trade him for the world. His blonde highlights, evil ass but also cute most of the time smile, his funny personality, the way he speaks, the way he acts around you, and everything else, is all so important to you. Especially that hat you stole from him.
Was gonna post this on tuesday, but i accidentally posted it now. Whoops. Hope you guys enjoyed it though! First Aj fic aaaagh.
© gyalwtf 2024 - please do not repost, translate or copy any of my works on other platforms without permission.
#aj shabeel x reader#aj x reader#fluff#beta squad#beta squad imagine#beta squad x reader#king kenny x reader#beta squad x you#niko x reader#sharky x reader#sharky x you#aj x you#aj shabeel x you
181 notes
·
View notes
Note
Odd thought and my brain can’t stop with those tonight.
Imagine how much weirder it would have been if Zack trained under Sephiroth instead of Angeal. Instead of facing off against his mentor and his mentor’s childhood friend… it would have been more like… facing off against the two people his mentor thought were his friends but had abandoned him. Zack, the mentor/Sephiroth one man protection squad.
I love this. In my mind, Zack is fiercely, almost unhingedly, protective of the people he loves, which means the sheer chaos potential here is off the charts. Just imagine: Zack completely unleashing his anger on Genesis and Angeal, not just because he despises traitors, but because they hurt the man who taught him everything.
Zack forcing Sephiroth out of his shell during his depression, shoving food into his hands so he'll eat, pleading with him, "they're not worth it, you are." And yet despite that, he still tries to reason with Genesis and Angeal—for Sephiroth's sake alone. His respect for Sephiroth is untouchable, unshakable. He wants Sephiroth's well-being above all else, but every time he lays eyes on Genesis and Angeal, it's uncontrollable rage. That would make Crisis Core even more devastating. Because no matter how it plays out, Angeal still dies at Zack's hands. And it still breaks Sephiroth.
And then Zack, trying to justify it—"I did what I had to do." Clinging to Sephiroth through the grief, desperate to help him, to save him. And then Nibelheim.
His fury at Genesis is all-consuming, and this time he doesn't just stand there while Genesis spews cryptic taunts at Sephiroth. They fight at the reactor, because Zack won't let him twist the knife deeper. But then the Shinra mansion. Zack pleading, bringing Sephiroth food, begging him to come out, refusing to leave his side. He insists on staying, watching over him, caring for him just like Sephiroth once did for him. But Sephiroth pushes him away.
And then Nibelheim burns, and the bitterness is deeper than anything before, because this isn't just a mentor, a hero, this is his friend, the man he respected, the one who shaped him into who he is.
I don't know how it would play out, but imagine the weight of it if Sephiroth dies there, leaving Masamune behind. Zack takes it. And later, when the time comes, he bequeaths it to Cloud.
Sephiroth returns. He wants the Reunion. He wants Cloud.
And Cloud is still lost in the haze of fragmented memories. He has no idea why the sword in his hands keeps whispering to him.
#ff7#ffvii#final fantasy 7#sephiroth#final fantasy vii#zack fair#ffvii crisis core#ff7 crisis core#crisis core#au
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
Smoke Eater - Part 6
Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader
Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.
That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.
🔥 Series Masterlist
Word Count: 7,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort
Part 6: “Just Casual”
A few days after the house fire that claimed the life of Paul Richardson, father of two, Chief Bobby Singer was joined in his office by Detectives Winchester and Novak, along with his resident Squad Captain and Truck Lieutenant, Benny and Dean.
“The Richardson fire has officially been determined an arson,” Bobby revealed.
“They found a time-delay incendiary device hidden in the attic. No fingerprints. But that’s not even the odd thing,” he said. “The medical examiner found a brand mark on his wrist that was inconsistent with his other burns. Which is why you’re here, I reckon.”
Bobby directed his gaze at both John and Cas, who didn’t look surprised to hear this news.
Dean raised a brow. His gaze shifted to his father, but John only met his stare for a moment before he answered Bobby’s unspoken question.
“We’ve been investigating a series of murders in the area over the past six months,” John said. “Each victim died in their home, with the same brand somewhere on their body. Typically the wrist, or the back of the neck.”
“So we officially have a serial killer turned arsonist on our hands,” Bobby concluded. His attention shifted to Benny and Dean. “Keep this close to the vest, but keep your eyes open.”
“Arsonists are hard to catch,” Dean said, looking to the detectives. “What do you know about this guy?”
Cas glanced at John. The older man could feel his stare, but had to ignore it for now.
“Not much as of yet,” John said. “Right now he’s a coil of smoke, if you’ll pardon the phrase. Our psychologist says he’s most likely a white male, statistically speaking. College educated, or at the very least intelligent, efficient, and so far, he thinks every step through. Like he said, no prints. But the brand is a message.”
“To who, and why, is what we’ve been trying to figure out,” Cas added. “We think that’s the key to pinpointing a suspect.”
“Really,” Dean said. He raised a brow and crossed his arms. “Six months, and that’s all you’ve got?”
“Dean,” John started, but the Lieutenant shook his head.
“Come on, Dad. I know you. Who is this guy?”
“Dean, this is the best I can give you right now, but believe me, we’re working on it,” John said, that tone that boded no further argument.
Bullshit, Dean wanted to shoot back. But he held his tongue for now. He knew that John wouldn’t budge. Instinct still told Dean that his father was holding something back though.
As the men filtered out of Bobby’s office, Dean held Cas back for a moment.
“Watch the old man’s back, all right,” Dean said. “He’s got a penchant for being reckless.”
Cas gave him a wry, pointed look. “I’m doing my best. Winchesters are a stubborn lot.”
Dean smirked and walked out with him. Meg was headed inside, having just come in from an ambulance call. She smiled when she saw her boyfriend.
“Hey, lover,” she greeted. And she smacked his ass in front of God and the entire Rescue Squad, who liked to sit outside the firehouse and play cards at their table.
Ramirez and the others smirked and called out their customary whoops and cat calls. Dean smirked at the actual blushing discomfort that tightened up Cas’s face and shoulders.
“Dinner tonight at Casablanca’s, right?” Meg asked, unfazed by the catcalling peanut gallery.
“Right,” Cas said stiffly. But he still brushed her cheek with his thumb in affection. “See you later.”
“Yep,” she nodded, though she shot Dean a wry brow. “What? I stole your boyfriend. Get over it.”
She continued on her path back inside the firehouse, leaving Dean and Cas to stare after her in annoyance and begrudging fondness, respectively.
Dean turned to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Good luck and Godspeed, my friend. That woman’s fuckin’ terrifying.”
Cas gave him a lazy salute as he walked away. He found that John had already started up their police car. He was in the driver’s seat, as always, with a hand resting casually on the steering wheel.
Dean typically sat in much the same way. Cas thought both men were more comfortable in a car than anywhere else in life. Except, maybe, the precinct and the firehouse.
Cas slid into the passenger seat and gave his partner a knowing look.
“I still think you should tell Sam and Dean what’s really happening here,” he said.
John looked over at him with an almost unreadable expression. But they had been partners for a few years now; long enough for Cas to get a read on the older veteran.
“I understand why you want to keep them out of this, but now this guy is starting fires. Here, in Dean’s district,” Cas pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be safer for him if he had clearer eyes walking into the next one?”
If, God forbid, something should go wrong on the next call Dean responded to, John would never forgive himself. Both he and Cas knew this, but John never answered his partner’s question. He didn’t want his sons getting their noses in this just yet, even if it meant the worry he saw in Dean’s eyes.
So he put the car in “drive” and peeled away from the firehouse.
Trying to match your schedule with Dean’s was a challenge you two were trying to figure out. Though you’d fallen into a pattern of talking on the phone to fill the void when you two couldn’t meet.
Even after almost two more weeks and a third date, you were pleasantly surprised that you and Dean still had plenty to talk about. You told him more about your childhood with your grandparents, while he told you funny stories about him and Sam growing up with their dad, though he was often gone while working on cases.
It was family friend and Fire Chief, Bobby Singer who looked after them whenever John couldn’t, or his old partner Jody Mills, or even Ellen Harvelle, owner of the Roadhouse.
The more you learned about Dean, the more invested you became. And he listened to you when you went on tangents about new recipes you wanted to try out (as long as he got to be your official Taste Tester).
You two argued, playfully and fervently, about music. And you’d been creating a list of old shows the other hadn’t seen, but absolutely needed to.
Dean had suggested Dukes of Hazzard, for example, while you suggested Smallville. You each only agreed to put up with this list if you two watched it together. (Needless to say, there would be some marathon binge watching in your future.)
You particularly took notice though, when Dean invited you to join him at the Roadhouse to meet Cas, one of his best friends, and his girlfriend Meg. You’d invited Andréa to come along, and even Dean’s friend Benny, who she’d also been seeing ever since that night at the Roadhouse.
Apparently, the couple had their own plans.
You tried not to feel some type of way about her brush-off, but your friend had been increasingly distant since she met Benny Lafitte. However, you supposed you couldn’t judge. You hadn’t been calling her as much either, ever since you met Dean.
You knew that if you kept dating him, some adjustments would have to come in your life. You also promised yourself that you’d never be someone who forgot your friends for a man…even for a man like Dean Winchester.
Tonight, however, you’d come directly from work to meet him at the bar. It made more sense than to make him come pick you up from your house, so you sat with a ginger ale while you waited. He’d promised you via text that he was on the way, just stuck in traffic.
Okay, drive safe. 😘 Don’t speed, please.
You knew how he liked floor the Impala with that damn lead foot of his.
No promises. 🏎️
You wanted to roll your eyes, but you were smiling unconsciously as you read his reply.
You were soon knocked out of your thoughts when a smooth voice said your name. You looked up and to your right, and there stood a familiar face. The man greeted you with an easy smile as he sat down next to you.
“I thought that was you,” he said. He reached out his hand and re-introduced himself. “Gordon Walker. Not sure if you remember me.”
“Oh, yes! Of course I do, Gordon,” you smiled and shook his hand.
“It’s good to see you again,” he said. His dark eyes subtly took you in from head to toe in your skirt, heels, and blouse. “Though I’ve gotta admit, I’ve never seen you here before.”
“Ah, right,” you said. “Well—”
Before you could explain, Gordon held up a finger as he noticed your drink of choice.
“Oh, wait a sec. Let me get you something stronger than soda,” he said. He started to flag down Jo, but you shook your head and made a cutting motion with your hand.
“Uh, no, that’s okay,” you said. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“What?” Gordon asked.
It was getting busy in the bar, making it loud enough that you could understand why he hadn’t heard you. You leaned over towards his ear.
“I’m good for now, thanks,” you said, raising your voice a bit. Gordon leaned in even closer and chanced resting a hand above your knee.
“You sure?” he asked. He gave you a smile that was all smooth sex appeal and confidence, without being arrogant.
It was undoubtedly attractive, but you were more shocked than charmed in your blush. You instinctively leaned back when you felt his hand on your thigh. Your hand clenched on the counter.
While your brain scrambled to figure out a response that would successfully remove it (without snapping rudely like you were itching to), a hand slipped along your lower back.
You jolted a bit in your seat with a flare of unease, until you turned your head and found Dean.
“Hey, baby,” he greeted, and dropped a kiss at your hairline. He also clapped a heavy hand on Gordon’s shoulder and squeezed. The other man graciously got the hint and leaned back, withdrawing his hand from your thigh.
“Hi,” you said, finally able to breathe a bit easier. You gave Dean a smile, and he returned it.
He looked over at his friend with a sharper smile. “Hey, Gord. How’s your night goin’?”
“Good.” Gordon nodded, now with a knowing gleam in his eye. “Though I’m sure your night’s gonna go better.”
You weren’t sure how to take that remark, considering the way Dean reacted with a tighter expression and pursed lips. Then, they flickered at a smile.
“Well, we’re meeting up with Meg and Cas in a minute. You should join us,” Dean said. Even though his tone wasn’t so very inviting. The two men seemed to have a wordless conversation between the lines that you couldn’t decipher.
Gordon shook his head, but raised his drink. “No worries, you guys hang. I’m leaving in a few.”
“All right. Let us know if you change your mind,” Dean said. He thumped Gordon once more on the back, more friendly this time.
Dean’s other hand slipped around your waist. He tapped you on the side.
“Come on, I’ve got us a table. It’s quieter,” he said.
You nodded and slid out of your seat. You offered Gordon a polite smile, even if you’d rather not.
“Have a good night,” you said.
The other man’s smile was less flirtatious and more polite this time as well.
“You too,” he said.
Dean helped you onto your feet, like the gentleman he was, and he continued to lead you away from the bar with a hand on the small of your back. You instinctively pressed against his side to squeeze past the throng of patrons.
When you reached a high-top table in the corner, he pulled out your chair and held your hand as you climbed up in your skirt. You thanked him with a more genuine smile. Though once he was seated next to you, you leaned towards him and laid a hand on his arm, which rested on the table.
“I tried to tell him I was waiting for you. He took me by surprise,” you whispered.
Dean’s brows rose, but his face soon evened out with a smile. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Don’t worry about it. He didn’t know about us,” he said. “He was shootin’ his shot…a bit aggressively. Sorry about that.”
“Oh…it’s okay. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you replied. Though butterflies ran through your belly when you considered what us meant.
You noted his frown at what you’d said though, and so you aimed to change the subject.
“But Cas and Meg know, right?” you asked.
Dean nodded. His frown started to lift. “Yeah. Cas is one of my best friends. Meg is…well. She’s the little sister I wish I didn’t have.”
You shook your head in amusement. Then you let out a squeal as Dean hooked a foot around the leg of your chair and brought you closer. He stopped you from becoming too unbalanced by wrapping an arm around your waist. You clenched your hands into the open panels of his plaid shirt, and his charming smile greeted you.
“Hi,” he said.
You laughed. “Yeah, you mentioned that earlier.”
“Well, I’m doing it right this time,” he said. And he dipped down for a lingering kiss.
Across the bar was Jo Harvelle, doing her job behind the counter. She poured five shots in succession and doled them out to a party of frat bros without even looking.
Her eyes were drawn to the back corner of the bar, where you and Dean sat closely together, exchanging whispers and the occasional steamy kiss.
“Mind your business,” came Ellen’s whisper in her ear.
Jo whipped her head to glare softly at her mother, but she saw Ellen’s point. It was both obvious and pathetic of her to stare.
Despite the unease making her feel a bit sick to her stomach, Jo went over to Gordon down at the end. His sympathetic smile bothered her; she knew then she hadn’t just been caught by her mother.
“Interesting, isn’t it?” he remarked.
“What?” Jo said. She began wiping down his area of the counter. “Would it kill you to keep it in the glass?”
Gordon gave her an amused look as he sat back in his seat. His tumbler of whiskey was drained.
“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” he said.
Both of them knew he wasn’t apologizing for the spill.
Jo’s brows knitted together, mostly in annoyance. “Again, for what?”
“I know it’s gotta be hard to see him actually moving on,” he replied.
Her lips pursed, and her eyes darted to the back of the room again. She stared for a moment at the side of your face.
“Knowing him, whatever it is won’t last,” she muttered.
Gordon hissed at the "burn," with a deep chuckle. She knew her words weren’t kind, but it was how she felt.
“That may be,” he allowed. “But he’s not just chasing tail anymore. That’s what scares you.”
Gordon dropped a nice tip for her next to his glass. He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and left Jo with the churning in her gut.
Cas and Meg finally arrived a few minutes later.
Dean knew you’d been to the Roadhouse before, but this was different. You were meeting some of his friends, and he realized how much he wanted you to. He felt…comfortable around you. And he wanted his friends to know you, and to like you.
“As you know, Meg’s our Paramedic in Charge over at 25,” he began, gesturing at the woman as she got settled in her seat.
You admired her long brown hair, tall boots, and black leather jacket. She seemed to ooze confidence and dark charisma as she tossed you a smirk.
“Guilty,” she said.
You smiled back. Dean gestured at her boyfriend next, clad in a beige trench coat, slacks, and blazer.
“And Cas, who bravely suffers being my dad’s partner on the job.”
Cas nodded wryly at the introduction. His dark hair and blue eyes were striking, you could admit. His tie was loose and slightly rumpled. Along with the stubble coating his face, he was handsome, if a bit scruffy. It was hard for you to believe he’d earned the top scores his year in the Police Academy, but you supposed that looks could be deceiving.
“What’s that like?” you asked with a smirk. “From what I’ve heard about John Winchester, he sounds like he’s a bit of a hard-ass.”
Dean barked with a dry laugh. “An understatement.”
“He has a crab-like shell,” Cas agreed. “But he has a soft center where it counts, not unlike his sons.”
You turned to Dean with a more teasing smile. “Aww…”
He rolled his eyes, even though his arm, which had been draped across the back your chair, now dropped to curl around your waist.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Columbo,” he remarked at his blue-eyed friend.
Always had to get the last dig in, it seemed, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little along with Meg at Cas’s expense.
“You guys all seem really close,” you said. It was nice for you to see.
Dean shrugged like it was no big deal. Or rather, like it was commonplace.
“Well, maybe family ain’t just about blood,” he said.
Meg rolled her eyes. “Ugh. What a friggin’ sap.”
“You love it,” Dean grinned. She smiled, begrudgingly.
Family ain’t just about blood.
You liked that sentiment as well. It seemed to be true here.
Even Ellen Harvelle treated Dean like a son when she came over to greet your table. She kissed his cheek and gave Meg and Cas’s shoulders a squeeze. Even you got a warm hand on your shoulder when she introduced herself.
“Welcome, hun. I understand it’s not your first time here, but if you got any questions on the menu, you let me know,” she said.
Dean shot you a conspiratorial smile, and it got you wondering what he was about to do.
“I mean, I don’t know why you don’t put the order in for chili fries the second you see me come through the door,” he teased. “Come on, Ellen. How long’ve I been coming here? Since before I had a license?”
Ellen narrowed her eyes and flicked the side of Dean’s head, regardless of his flinching protest.
“Don’t you go sayin’ that so damn loud,” she reproached. “You never drank underage at my bar.”
His eyes averted with a smile, in a way that told you Ellen was a damn liar. You bit your lip to try and hide your smile.
“Anyway, I’ll get your damn fries—”
“And a beer,” Dean interjected. She rolled her eyes.
“And a beer. Four?” she pointed at the rest of you, and you, Cas, and Meg nodded in agreement.
“All right, four beers. Anything else, darlin’?” She looked at you with a mother’s charm.
You looked up from the menu and unconsciously smiled.
“Um, sure. Can I get the chicken sandwich?”
She patted your shoulder. “You sure can.”
Ellen then took the rest of their orders without writing a thing down. You were impressed by her memory. At the end though, Dean didn’t let her go without a hand on her arm.
“Thanks, Ellen,” he said with a more sincere smile.
“A-huh,” she replied, with all due sarcasm. But there was a fondness in her eyes that was hard to miss when she playfully grabbed the back of his neck. “Knucklehead.”
A giggle escaped you, and Ellen tossed you a wink before she went to put in the orders and get the drinks.
Conversation flowed easier when the alcohol came. One beer became two, and even three (four, for Meg). By then, you were sure it was one beer too many for yourself, but you didn’t want to be the odd one out. You were mostly listening to the three of them bounce back and forth between reminiscing with old stories and roasting one another mercilessly.
It was hilarious and entertaining, but you were trying not to get caught in the crosshairs of the volleying. Inevitably though, Meg’s attention turned to you with a certain sly smile.
“You must be real special,” she remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”
You blinked in surprise.
“Meg,” Dean’s voice cut like a warning.
Your eyes widened as you took in the change, his deeper voice, his more serious gaze, versus Meg’s nonchalance. Even Cas gave her a chiding look.
“Not sure I want to know what that means,” you tried to joke.
But you could guess. It was fairly obvious.
You glanced over at Dean, whose lips pursed. Before either of you could say anything more, Meg chimed in.
“Oooh, is this gonna be your first fight?” she teased.
Dean’s brows furrowed with a glare. “That’s enough.”
“And that’s our cue,” Cas nodded. He’d already slipped out his wallet as soon as his girlfriend started talking. He left a generous few bills to cover their half of the night, plus tip, and got up out of his seat. He claimed his coat and then encouraged Meg off her chair.
“What? I’m not done with my beer,” she protested.
“I think you are,” Cas said.
Meg scoffed, but she allowed his manhandling as he wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.
“You’re not the boss of me, Clarence,” she snipped.
“Certainly not,” he agreed. “But you’re a lightweight. Time to go home, before you insult the entire bar.”
“You’re no fucking fair,” she groused, hitting his chest over his jacket. Cas leveled you and Dean with a long-suffering look of apology.
Dean waved him off with a “no sweat it” look and a shake of his head. Meg annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, especially when she was drunk. He turned to you with a sigh.
“Again, sorry about that. I didn’t think I’d have to apologize for my friends more than once tonight,” he said.
You shook your head. “It’s...okay. Overall, they were really fun.”
Dean scoffed. “I don’t think Cas has been called fun even once in his life.”
You smiled in amusement, but Meg’s words still swirled around in your head like heady wine.
“Dean,” you began, but your attempt to broach the issue was cut off by his cell phone ringing. He gave you an apologetic look and fished in his pocket for his phone. His brows rose when he saw the caller ID.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I gotta take this,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, okay—” You’d barely nodded when Dean was up and out of his chair, heading out of the bar. You could still see him through one of the faded glass doors as he held the phone up to his ear.
It was late, and quieter now. A blonde server came to take your plates, and you actually remembered her.
“Oh, hi! Jo, right?” you asked. She hesitated when you spoke, but she bobbed her head.
“That’s me,” she said. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks,” you said with a smile. “I met your mom. She’s really nice.”
Jo uttered a wry laugh as she stacked the plates and silverware. You helped her collect the silverware and empty beer bottles.
“Yeah, when you get her good side,” she replied.
You smirked at that, remembering how Ellen snapped back and forth with Dean. You had no doubt that woman could be a pistol if you pissed her off.
“Well, it's nice here,” you admitted, once again taking stock of the décor. The music, the warm lighting, the good food… “It’s cozy.”
Jo’s smile quirked to one side as she paused.
“Well, it’s been in my family for three generations of Harvelles,” she said. “This was my father’s favorite place in the world.”
You caught the note of melancholy in her words, in her eyes.
“Was?” you echoed. She met your gaze and nodded.
“He was a firefighter,” she said. “He died on the job.”
You dimmed considerably. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Jo only nodded.
“How did he…” Your curiosity got the best of you, but you soon shook your head and backtracked. “Never mind, you don’t have to explain.”
“It was a fire that wasn’t properly vented,” Jo answered your half-spoken question. Her blue eyes were heavier. “He got caught in an updraft…but he actually worked at Firehouse 25. He was their brother. That’s why this’ll always be their place.”
You processed that with a slow nod of wonder.
“It’s good that you and your mom will always have that support,” you said eventually. “Even though…it might be hard too, to always be reminded.”
Jo’s lips quirked again. “It’s more the first one, but…sometimes the second one. A lot of these guys have known me since I had braces. It’s hard to shake that perpetual little sister thing.”
You smiled at that. “Yeah, I’d imagine that gets old real quick. A bunch of over-protective older brothers.”
“Overbearing, more like,” she scoffed. You laughed.
Unconsciously, you glanced over to the front of the bar, where you saw Dean still on the phone. You remembered the second date you were meant to have, when he was late due to a five-car pileup his team responded to.
You remembered that night he called you for the first time, after a long day he didn’t want to tell you about. He’d let you distract him instead. All the while, it had you wondering what he’d seen. What he’d responded to that day.
Had it been another car accident? A fire? What made someone as upbeat and funny and smooth as Dean seem to lose all the life in his voice?
Though while you were lost in your thoughts, Jo was watching you.
Jealousy roiled inside her, unbidden. She didn’t want to hate you, because unlike the girls Dean usually messed around with, you had some self-respect. Jo heard Meg’s snide clips at you earlier, and no one could fake the surprise in your eyes. Unless you were just that good a damn actor…
But no, she didn’t get that vibe from you.
It didn’t mean she had to like you though.
“You’re right to think twice,” Jo said, earning your attention back with a swivel of your head. “What Meg said…she wasn’t wrong. Dean’s broken a few hearts, if you catch my drift.”
Just a few well-placed words, Jo thought. She realized then that she had the power to twist the wrench here, widening the gap between you and Dean. Feed your doubts.
She didn’t have to feel bad about it if it was the truth.
And yet…she saw the way your gaze fell. The disappointment setting in, the anxious clench of your hands on the table. You glanced over at Dean again out of the corner of your eye.
Jo realized then just what she was doing, not just to Dean, but to herself.
You’re not some petty bitch, she dully reminded herself.
“But,” she found herself adding. You raised your gaze back to her. Jo let out a subtle breath.
“It’s not always his fault,” she admitted. And maybe she was speaking a bit too much from experience. “The job demands a lot from him.”
Slowly, you nodded. You looked pensive, but not like you’d made up your mind.
Fine, Jo thought, as she collected the dishes and left your table.
She didn’t know if she wanted to sway you one way or the other on taking a chance on Dean Winchester.
While you were talking to Jo, Dean was taking his father’s unexpected call.
“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” he said.
“Hey, son. How are ya?” John’s voice was gruff and tired. Dean frowned to hear it.
“I’m good. I’m out right now, but did you need something?”
“Have you responded to any fires lately?”
“You mean like the Richardson fire?” Dean asked pointedly. “No, haven’t had one since. And no cattle prod brandings either.”
“All right, good. Just checking in.”
Good? Dean thought. John would be chomping at the bit for a new arson. If he was “just checking in,” then he was worried about something. Is he worried about me?
“What’s going on? Is there something I need to know?” Dean asked in suspicion. This was why he had taken the call. “Seriously, you can tell me. I’m not even gonna bitch at you like Sam does.”
John chuckled. But then he hesitated. Dean knew he’d hit on something.
“Dad?” he pressed.
John’s sigh was a heavy one. “Okay. What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.”
Dean’s brows furrowed in trepidation. “Okay, fine. What the hell is it?”
“Richardson, the father of two?” John reminded. “He was a lawyer, linked to a money laundering scheme through a company called Stull Storage. It’s an old company, dates back to the seventies.”
“Okay…”
As John continued to explain, the more confused Dean became…
About 30 years ago, John Winchester had been a young, but promising officer in the Narcotics division. He’d married young, and by then was just barely clearing the five-year mark. Already he had the house he’d inherited from his wife’s parents, a four-year-old son, and a newborn.
Stull Storage’s units were used by a drug ring that John had been trying to infiltrate, undercover. Those units had stored cocaine, illegal weapons, and other flavors of contraband, mostly from South America (and back).
“We got close to breaking that case, once, but after the fire…I transferred out of Narcotics, as you know,” John said.
Dean knew the real story there. After his mom died, his father went into a spiral, trying to find whoever set that fire—even after the Fire Department found no evidence of arson. John had eventually been forced out of Narcotics. He requested Homicide.
As he’d told Dean once when he was extremely drunk: I seem to do better at my job when the bodies are already dead.
“Now I know that I was right about your mother’s death,” John said.
Dean released a shaky sigh. “Aw, man. Not this again, Dad. For Christ’s sake.”
“There was something wrong about that fire, Dean,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over Dean’s objections. “I just didn’t find the connection…until now.”
Dean muttered a curse under his breath. His gaze fell to the ground. Sam was usually the one who drew a hard line at hearing any more about their mom’s supposed murder, but now Dean had reached the end of his tether. It was too much.
He glanced back through the glass doors to make sure you were okay. He saw you talking to Jo, and he frowned at himself.
Here you were, waiting on him back in the bar, and his dad was calling him in the middle of the night, chasing ghosts again.
“Look…it’s been my whole damn life with this.” Dean held the phone to his ear with one hand, and rubbed at his forehead with the other. “I just can’t do this with you anymore.”
“Dean, listen,” John urged. “You wanna know what I’m digging into, this is it. I got Mary’s file unsealed.”
Dean’s eyes widened. “What? Thought you couldn’t do that without new evidence and a court order.”
“Well, I’ve got the evidence…maybe I was a bit impatient with the court order.”
Dean rolled his eyes. His father liked to play a little fast and loose with the rules.
“At the time, the medical examiner dismissed it. She’d been burned…” John paused on a deeper breath. “But I saw it. Mary had a burn on her wrist. It was the same brand found on Richardson. On Jerry Stillwell, CPA. Amanda Waller, journalist. It’s all connected, Dean. How they’re connected to one another, I’m not sure yet. We’re still digging…but I do know this. Richardson was a message.”
Dean’s back hit the wall of the Roadhouse. His brows furrowed as he struggled to digest everything John was saying.
“A message?” he asked. “To who?”
“To me, I think. Those kids, and their mother…you got ‘em out alive, but they weren’t meant to,” John said, his voice sounding heavy. "The wife told me her husband was erratic when he got home, holding his wrist. He'd been burned before the fire. He wouldn't say what happened...then they smelled the goddamn smoke."
"Shit," Dean replied. He leaned heavily against the wall, pressing a hand to his forehead. There was an ache starting between his eyes.
“Yeah," John agreed. "The drug ring I was investigating, when I was in Narcotics. I was getting close. And I mean close. I was about to get the Big Kahuna. The kingpin of the whole operation…and then the house fire.”
Fuck. Dean wiped at his mouth anxiously as he realized what John was saying. Fuck.
“He burned me, Dean. He must have,” John said. Meaning, the drug lord he was trying to pin down somehow discovered his identity. “Your mom paid the price of that.”
“Who is this guy?” Dean asked. His hand holding the phone was starting to tremble.
“I still don’t know his real name. Workin’ on that one too,” John said. “But they called him Azazel.”
When Dean eventually hung up with his father and returned to you at the bar, he saw you brighten. But you soon dimmed with a tinge of worry. Something of his thoughts must’ve shown on his face.
Shit. He tried his best to school his features.
“Hey, sorry about that,” he said, grasping your shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”
“I met you here, remember?” you asked.
Dean paused, then shook his head. Get it together, asshole.
“Right," he said. "Well, I’ll walk you to your car. Let me just pay real quick.”
After he sorted out the bill (he didn’t know that you’d slipped in an extra $30 in Cas’s stack for your part), he led you out, saying goodbye to Ellen and Jo while you went.
You hesitated when the two of you got to the car. Something wasn’t right with him. And both Jo and Meg’s words still rolled back and forth through your head.
“Dean, are you okay? Who was it on the phone?” you asked.
“I’m fine. It was just my dad, called to have me take a look at his car. We were just arguing about our schedules…I’m sure you can relate,” he replied, trying at a smile.
You weren’t sure if you believed him. Though he was nearly convincing, he was also shifting on his feet, hands in his pockets. His gaze roamed away from yours, above your head and over your shoulder.
“Um, I might’ve had a beer too many,” you said with a half-chuckle. “Could you walk with me for a bit? Just until my head clears enough to drive.”
“I could take you home,” Dean offered.
“And leave my car here?” you asked. In a public parking lot behind a bar?
You shook your head and pointed down the road.
“Just there and back…but if you need to go, I guess I could just sit in my car for a while.”
Dean shook his head with a frown. He couldn’t tell you that a damn serial killer was on the loose.
“No, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s a relatively safe neighborhood, but not so much at night. Not by yourself.”
He laid a hand on your back to start walking with you, but his hand soon fell back to his side. You glanced at him, but he looked straight ahead, unusually quiet and reserved.
It felt like he was checking out of this night with you. Like he just wanted to usher you into the car and leave. Did he just not want to deal with what Meg said?
“You must be real special,” she remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”
Letting out a breath, you tried to see if you could broach the subject.
“It was nice to meet some more of your friends,” you said, and with a nervous laugh, “even if it did get awkward there at the end.”
Dean finally looked over at you.
“We never exactly talked about what each of us was looking for,” you said. “What we were really doing here.”
You stood your ground, but you tried not to look censuring. Just open to whatever he might have to say. Even so, unease churned inside you.
Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, she wasn’t exactly wrong about me.”
You considered that with a nod, biting the inside of your lip.
“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” you asked. Dean gave a humorless huff of a laugh. This really was the last thing he wanted to get into tonight, but he had a feeling he had no choice.
“A few months ago, for about a minute,” he said. “But uh, before then…never.”
Together, you began to cross the street while the cars on either side waited at the red light. Pedestrians had the right of way for the next 30 seconds. You looked over at him and steeled yourself.
“Dean, is this is something casual for you?”
“Define casual,” he attempted to joke (or to deflect). Though the bravado fell the moment he saw that look on your face: tight and disappointed…and hurt.
He reached for your hand, but you weren’t having it. You slipped away from him and continued walking at a more brusque clip, even in those platform heels.
“Okay, hold on.” He quickly followed after you and tugged you back by the hand. It had you both stopping in the middle of the crosswalk.
Dean squeezed your hand and peered into your eyes.
“Look, I’m sorry. Don’t close up on me,” he implored. “…Please.”
Despite your better judgment, and your pursed lips, you waited. Something told you this man didn’t often say please.
“The truth is, I’m trying to do something different here with you. I don’t think we would’ve made it to date #4 if we were just casual,” he said. “I’m not playing games either.”
You wanted to trust that he was serious. Once again, your mind and your heart were at odds; the former told you to be wary, while the latter told you to trust the earnestness in his eyes.
Your heart won. “Okay, Dean.”
“Yeah?” he asked, with hopeful brows raised.
“Yeah,” you nodded.
You finally smiled. And you leaned up, resting a hand against his chest, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His stubble was coarse, but familiar against your lips.
Dean turned his head and leaned in for a proper kiss. His hands found the curve of your waist and brought you closer against his chest. You both sunk deeper into it, your lips gliding as your head tilted into the kiss…
Until a horn honked loudly, making you both jolt at the sound.
The streetlight was green, and several cars were waiting for you to cross. You snorted in amusement, leading Dean to grin down at you. He tugged you back into step with him across the street.
Again, you hesitated at your car. Dean was more himself as he’d held your hand all the way back.
He now held your car door open while you threw in your purse. But when you turned back to him, you still saw something brooding behind his eyes.
You drew near and grasped the open edges of his shirt. This man wore a lot of plaid when he was out of uniform, always with an undershirt. Tonight it was green plaid on gray, complete with some faded jeans and a pair of boots. This was the only “casual” way in which you wanted Dean.
“Hey,” you started.
“Hmm?” he replied, holding you by your arms.
“I get that we haven’t known each other all that long. So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you said. “But did something happen when you stepped out? When you talked to your dad?”
Dean paused. His eyes, a pale green under the streetlamp, flicked to yours.
“I just want to know that you’re okay,” you said. “And if you’re not, that’s okay too.”
After a moment to blink in surprise, your earnestness got to him. His grip moved down your arms, and he took one of your hands. His dad’s warning echoed through his mind.
What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.
Dean knew his dad didn’t make demands without a reason, even if he wasn’t typically so forthcoming with them. But Dean drew enough courage to be as honest as he could be. You deserved that much, after everything you'd put up with tonight.
“My mom died...when I was about four,” he said. “It was a house fire.”
Your eyes widened. All this time, you’d assumed his mother had passed away. You hadn’t expected that, though. You squeezed his hands.
“I’m so sorry,” you said, and you meant it. Dean just shook his head.
“It was ruled an accident. Really they just didn’t have much evidence either way,” he continued. “But uh, my dad’s been obsessed with the idea that it wasn’t. That someone started the fire on purpose… Well, today, he might’ve found his proof.”
He held your gaze for as long as he could, but in the end, he just couldn’t. His chest was tight. Saying those words out loud made them real, and he wasn’t sure of how to handle it.
“Oh, Dean,” you said, starting and stopping, as you struggled to formulate a response that wasn’t just “I’m sorry,” or “Are you okay?”
He clearly wasn’t. You also didn’t want to give him platitudes like, “That’s crazy,” or the ever-inspired: “Wow.”
Or some other variation of what you’re supposed to say. You wanted to give him something honest. Something real.
So you curled your hands around his arms, earning his gaze.
“You must be reeling right now,” you said. “Do you think he’s onto something this time?”
“I don’t know what to think,” said Dean. “I’ve been pressing him for answers, but…honestly? I wish he hadn’t told me a damn thing.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. You were surprised that he actually confided in you with this. But the only thing you could think to do was lean up on your toes and slip your arms around his neck. You hugged him, warm and tight.
You couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling, but you just wanted him to know that someone was there for him. You were there for him.
Dean eventually hugged you back. He held you, reassuring you as well as himself. He blew out a cathartic breath, and his hand came up to cup the back of your head. His lips tugged upwards.
“You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” he said.
A smile spread across your face. Your fingers soothed through his hair gently. You pressed your lips into his neck.
“I aim to please,” you said against his skin.
Dean smiled more fully at that. The new warmth in his chest warred against the roiling in his stomach. Despite his best efforts, his smile faded.
His mom’s killer was still out there.
The thought was haunting his mind, and he knew it probably would for many nights to come.
So for now, he’d just hold you a bit tighter.
AN: 🥲 I honestly didn't mean it to end so angsty, but Dean finally got some much-needed hurt/comfort there! What did you think of how Jo handled her jealous side? And Gordon "shooting his shot" lol.
Coming soon in Part 7, we finally get to a huge milestone between these two lovebirds, with a side helping of baking shenanigans. 😏❤️🔥
Next Time:
“Ey, ey!” he raised a warning finger with his free hand. “You’re about to take this to a new level.”
You met his gaze through your lashes with a playful smile. “So?”
Dean raised a brow at you. He could admit, you had audacity. All he could do was call your bluff.
He took one of your battered fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widened at the feel of his soft tongue swirling around your finger, sucking it clean. All the while, his eyes never broke from yours.
Lord have mercy, you thought. Really, it was the only coherent one in your head.
Keep Reading: PART 7
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Series Tag List (Part 1):
@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb
@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91
@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19
@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420
#Just Casual#Smoke Eater#Part 6#dean winchester#Firefighter!Dean Winchester#dean winchester x reader#Dean Winchester x female reader#firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader#dean winchester x you#firefighter AU#dean winchester AU#spn#supernatural#zepskies writes
756 notes
·
View notes
Note
can i request aizen teaching his s/o calligraphy (kinda like a date🥺)
This is such a cute request, anon! So sorry for the delay since you sent it to me right before Kinktober, but I hope you enjoy this! I have to say I'm still OBSESSING over this trivia fact about Aizen. It says so much about him (imo!) because of how extensive Japanese calligraphy can be.

Summary: Rumours of Captain Aizen's calligraphy classes spread like wildfire in Sereitei. And you, his significant other, have yet to see the man in action! You sneak into a class as it ends, and you can't help but wonder what it might be like to be taught by him. Sosuke offers a personal, private lesson on Calligraphy 101.
TW: none! Just some kissing here and there. I kept this SFW. It's kind of fluffy.
You watched in awe as the academy students concentrated on their papers in front of them. Their instructor was Captain Aizen Sosuke of the 5th Division and your recently established “boyfriend.”
Boyfriend that term seemed so… odd befitting a man like him, as he walked around the classroom, commenting and advising students on their brush stroke and technique. You were so curious about this side of him. Calligraphy was something you knew he was talented in, so much so he was offered a position at the Academy as an instructor, but he never spoke much about it when you two were together.
You continued to watch him from the entryway of the classroom. You arrived earlier than the time he told you to meet him at, all because you wanted to see him teach. You knew his classes were popular, but didn’t expect the auditorium hall to be packed to the brim with students, with some standing next to you, eagerly taking down notes while others were fortunate enough, to practice their calligraphy with his instruction.
You were enthralled.
Once the class was dismissed, you didn’t miss the fawning of some of the female students, but Captain Aizen was polite and reserved. Enough praise and instruction to motivate them, but distant enough that they wouldn’t get the wrong impression of him.
As the students exited the hall, you heard the captain call out your name, “you’re here early.” He remarked, a gentle smile gracing his face.
“I wanted to see you in action.” You teased, as you spread your arms over the view of the auditorium. “I have to say, I’m a bit jealous.”
Sosuke looked at you with confusion, “jealous? What for? Being a student again?” He asked. You thought he looked cute with the perplexed expression on his face.
“No, not being a student. But…” you trailed off, as you ran your fingers over Sosuke’s calligraphy supplies, “I’d like to be taught calligraphy by you.”
Sosuke smiled, as he wrapped his arms around you, “that can be arranged. But why don’t I give you a private lesson instead.” Giving you a quick peck on your forehead. You hummed in his embrace but nodded into his firm chest.
You initially thought Sosuke would take you to his office in the Squad 5 barracks but were surprised when he led you to his private quarters. You kneeled on the floor as Sosuke collected supplies from a small closet near his bookshelf.
In front of you laid an underlay, two jade-coloured paperweights holding your scroll of paper, while next to it lay an ink stone, an ink block, a long, thin glass of water, and brushes of various widths. Sosuke sat next to you gently poured a few droplets of water into the flat portion of the stone.
“That should be enough water.” Sosuke murmured, “now take the ink block and rub it into the pool of water.” He instructed, as you began to rub the block of ink. “You can circle the stick around or move it whatever way feels comfortable.” Sosuke continued, “this process should feel meditative.”
You looked up at him, as he smiled down at you, “sometimes what you’re doing and what you’re thinking about are not the same” his deep voice washed over you.
“How will I know if it’s ready?” You asked, with how little water you had poured to begin with.
“Pick up the small brush and dab some ink on to this.” Sosuke instructed, as he handed you a small piece of rice paper. “If the ink bleeds too quickly, it’s not quite thick enough.” You nodded your head as you dabbed, seeing the ink instantly bloom on the paper. Still not enough. You continued to rub the stone over the pool of water, lost in thought of the sound and motion. This is oddly relaxing you thought to yourself.
Sosuke chuckled, then came behind you, his large body enveloping you. He steadied your hand that grinded the ink, causing you to grind down harder, but not aggressively. “This is how you should do it,” he whispered into your ear, before kissing you. Your cheeks grew warm with how close he was to you, and how large his hand was compared to your own. Strong, thin fingers, with small flecks of faded black ink on the fingertips, mirroring your own.
“Sosuke, how long have you been practicing calligraphy for?” You asked, while you continued to grind the ink block.
You heard him hum behind you, “I think for almost 200 years now.”
“Did you learn it at the Academy too?” You continued to ask.
“No, I was taught it before I attended the Academy.” But before you could ask any more questions, he gripped your hand, “that amount should suffice for now.”
You nodded your head, as the ink pooled in the well of the stone.
“Choose whatever brush calls to you.” Sosuke instructed, “and hold it whatever way feels comfortable to you.”
“Is there a proper form to holding it?” You asked, as you picked a dark wood, grey-tipped brush.
“Not necessarily, but most would hold it as if you were holding chopsticks.” He explained, as you flexed the brush between your fingers, getting used to the weight and feel if it. Then you felt Sosuke hold your arm firmly, placing it at an angle, “and hold it at a 45-degree angle.”
You couldn’t see him, but you could tell he was smiling.
“This will help your hand steady the brush and will prevent it from being knocked out of your hand.”
“What?” You asked, surprise in your voice. Sosuke stood up and changed positions, deciding to sit in front of you and your scroll.
“If this were a proper class, with other students.” Sosuke clarified, “I would check my students’ grip by pulling the brush out of their hand.” Sosuke then looked to your own hand, noticing you instantly tightening your grip, “but don’t tighten it too much.” He chuckled, “your calligraphy should be dynamic and steady, not rigid and tight.”
“Not to say I didn’t think this before, but there is an art to this.” You laughed, as you tried again to balance the brush in your hand.
Sosuke laughed as well, “yes there are a lot of decisions a calligrapher must make before they even start. But before that, why don’t you try drawing some lines?” He gave you an encouraging smile.
You nodded your head as you gently dipped the brush into the pool of ink. Without thinking, you placed the brush on the scroll and drew a horizontal line, surprised at how quickly the ink spread across the scroll.
“When it comes to calligraphy,” Sosuke explained, “you must consider your starting point before you write.”
“I see that now.” As you continued to draw various shapes and lines.
“But I can already see you have one excellent quality.” Sosuke smirked, looking at you, “no hesitation in your movements.”
You blushed at his compliment, as he continued to teach you, “calligraphy is like music,” he said. “You cannot go back and rework the sheet; you must continue to play through to the end.”
You nodded your head, as you began to swipe through the scroll, “this is a lot of fun!” You exclaimed.
Sosuke smiled gently at you, “if that’s the case, why don’t you try writing something then?” You looked at him with eagerness, as he replaced your scroll.
You bit your lip, trying to think of what to write. Sosuke watched you in amusement seeing you concentrate. Your eyes widened as you realized what to write. Without a second to spare, you stroked and dashed various lines of kanji, adding slight angles to characters. As you reached the bottom of the scroll, you frowned, realizing you miscalculated your starting point, barely fitting in the last vertical line of the character.
“Muga muchu – were you really that absorbed in this?” Sosuke laughed at how earnest you were in writing a yojijukugo as your first attempt at calligraphy.
“Yes!” You giggled, “you’re a great teacher.” You beamed at him, as he continued to study your work, “but I was so focused on trying to get my movements right, that I misjudged my kanji placements.”
“But for your first attempt, this is wonderful.” Sosuke remarked, as he inspected your scroll. “You’ll have a knack for this if you continue with it.” He praised, handing you the scroll.
“Oh, you don’t want to keep your girlfriend’s first piece?” You teased. Sosuke looked surprised again.
“I thought you would want to keep this memento.” He chuckled.
“I’m just kidding.” You laughed, but an idea was already forming in the back of your mind.
“The night is still young though, my dear,” as he began to clean up the space. “Why don’t we have dinner?”
“If you’re treating me, I can’t say ‘no’.” You grinned at him, as Sosuke shook his head in disbelief.
A few months later, you surprised Sosuke for his birthday. The man was simple, he didn’t like extravagant parties or any fussing over him.
So you decided to make him his favourite meal and something else.
You felt warm, watching Sosuke smile to himself as he ate every bit of his food. His eyes were closed, as if he were savouring every morsel. “I’m spoiled to have you feed me like this.” He chuckled, placing his chopsticks down. “This was a lovely birthday gift.”
“There’s more!” You laughed, as you went to your bedroom. You came back to your table with an elaborate, lacquered box with pearl markings. Sosuke looked confused, as you handed him his remaining gift. “C’mon, open it!”
Sosuke opened the box to find jars of his favourite matcha and tea blends, as well as a paper fan. As he unfurled the fan, his eyes widened with surprise at the yojijukugo that was written, “ishin denshin,” he read.
“Happy birthday, Sosuke.” You cupped his face, kissing him softly on the lips.
“Here’s to many more.” He whispered, scooping you into his lap.
Thank you for sending this request, anon! I hope this is what you had in mind.
For reference:
yojijukugo are four-character idiomatic phrases, often used in calligraphy. The first one reader writes is 無我夢中 - no self, in the middle of a dream, which refers to being lost in thought/to be totally absorbed by something.
The calligraphy on the fan is 以心伝心 from one heart to another - being able to communicate without words.
Thanks for reading!!
#bleach#aizen sousuke#aizen sosuke#aizen x reader#aizen sosuke x reader#bleach x reader#bleach fanfiction#bleach fluff#aizen fluff#aizen x you#sosuke aizen#bleach aizen#sousuke aizen#aizen#answered#anonymous#a writes
142 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pregnancy
Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon
Ingrid's pregnancy was a revelation that brought unparalleled joy to her and Mapi. From the moment they found out Ingrid was pregnant, their lives were awash with excitement, nervousness, and love. Mapi, in her typical fashion, vowed to take care of every single detail to make the pregnancy as smooth as possible.
---
It started with Ingrid’s cravings. At 2 a.m., she'd wake up craving churros and hot chocolate. Mapi, bleary-eyed but unwavering in her determination to keep Ingrid happy, would slip into sweats and head to their favorite late-night spot. “You know,” Ingrid said one night, watching Mapi bundle up, “I don’t need this churro. I just want it.”
“And I want to make sure you get it,” Mapi replied with a wink, planting a kiss on Ingrid's forehead before heading out.
Their fridge became a chaotic mix of pickles, mangoes, and other odd combinations. The team teased Ingrid mercilessly when she brought a jar of peanut butter and cucumbers to practice one day.
“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Ingrid said with a shrug as she munched contentedly.
---
Despite her growing belly, Ingrid insisted on attending training sessions. She scaled back to light workouts, sticking to stretches, yoga, and some ball drills. It gave her a sense of normalcy, a way to stay connected to the team and the sport she loved.
Mapi, however, was a different story. She hovered constantly, adjusting water bottles, fetching towels, and shooting glares at anyone who came too close during drills. “She’s pregnant, not made of glass,” Alexia teased one day, only to be met with Mapi’s signature scowl.
When Ingrid bent over to tie her shoelaces during practice, Mapi sprinted across the pitch. “You shouldn’t bend like that! Let me do it,” she insisted, dropping to her knees to tie Ingrid’s shoes.
“Maria, I’m fine!” Ingrid protested, half amused, half exasperated. “You’re making me feel like I’m 80.”
“You’re pregnant. That’s basically a license for me to spoil you,” Mapi countered, grinning up at her.
---
The rest of the team found endless entertainment in Mapi’s overprotectiveness.
“Mapi, can I breathe near Ingrid, or is that off-limits too?” Patri joked one day during a team lunch.
“You can breathe,” Mapi shot back, “just don’t breathe too hard.”
But beneath the jokes was an undercurrent of admiration. The team adored how Mapi doted on Ingrid and often stepped in to help. Aitana once surprised Ingrid with a homemade lasagna when she heard about her sudden aversion to cooking smells. And when Ingrid mentioned how her back was sore, Alexia gifted her a plush heating pad that quickly became her favorite.
The entire team had taken to calling Ingrid "Mama Engen" and frequently joked about how the baby was already part of the squad. Alexia even gifted the baby its first tiny Barça jersey with "Baby Engen-León" on the back. Ingrid teared up at the gesture, and Mapi made a vow to frame it when the baby outgrew it.
---
At home, Mapi was unstoppable. She installed baby-proof locks on cupboards, "Maria, the baby isn’t even here yet!” Ingrid laughed, researched prenatal massages, and even downloaded meditation apps to help Ingrid relax.
“It’s sweet, really,” Ingrid told Alexia during one of their chats. “But sometimes I just want to remind her that I’m pregnant, not dying.”
---
One evening, Ingrid came home to find Mapi assembling a crib in their living room. Tools were scattered everywhere, and she looked frazzled but determined.
“Babe, the baby won’t need a crib for months,” Ingrid said, sitting on the couch with a bemused smile.
“I know,” Mapi muttered, tightening a screw. “But I want everything to be perfect.”
Ingrid walked over, wrapping her arms around Mapi from behind. “It’s already perfect because it’s ours.”
---
The first ultrasound was a moment of pure magic. As they saw the tiny flutter of their baby’s heartbeat on the screen, Mapi’s eyes filled with tears.
“Can you believe it?” she whispered, clutching Ingrid’s hand.
Ingrid squeezed back, her own emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “We’re really doing this.”
---
Though the journey had its overwhelming moments, Ingrid wouldn’t have had it any other way. Mapi’s protectiveness, while occasionally exasperating, was a constant reminder of how much she was loved. And as they lay in bed one night, Mapi’s hand resting gently on Ingrid’s belly, Ingrid couldn’t help but smile.
“You’re going to be such a good mom,” she whispered.
“You too,” Mapi replied, pressing a kiss to Ingrid’s temple. “But for now, my job is to take care of both of you.”
Ingrid rolled her eyes affectionately. “You already do. And you’re pretty good at it. Just don’t drive me too crazy in the meantime.”
Mapi laughed, “Deal.”
And as they drifted off to sleep, dreams of their growing family filled the room, wrapping them in warmth and hope for the future.
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
— with you, at the end of all things ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x gn!reader
You and the Captain stare at the ghosts of the Survey Corps at Fort Saltra and exchange final goodbyes. You are glad to be with him, at the end of all things. Crossposted on AO3.
CONTENT — AOT spoilers, angst with a happy ending, grief and death, slight canon divergence bc i'm expanding on the scene with the Scouts (wc: 1.4k)
The day titans disappeared from Humanity’s existence, you remember white chrysanthemums blooming across endless fields of green.
It was an odd sight, you thought, following the fight that had ensued. Here you were in Fort Salta, surrounded by charred corpses, hellish landscapes, and dry, barren land. How could such a bright oasis manifest itself among all this chaos, when so much sadness had happened?
But despite this, as the white steam clung upwards in spirals of lavender haze and the faces of the Survey Corps materialized before you, the change was there. There stood the faces of your comrades—shimmering white in the steam—and fields of flowers behind them.
And you remember thinking that maybe, maybe, the flowers had appeared to symbolize all those who perished. Not just the Survey Corps, but all those people who had died needlessly everywhere. Entire civilizations… gone in the wisp of a day.
And so you stared. You stared at the faces of the soldiers who had stood next to you through everything.
The Survey Corps—your family.
It is your first Commander who breaks the silence.
“The both of you, thank you. Thank you for dedicating your hearts to the Survey Corps.” Erwin’s voice is as you last remember—a deep baritone that reminds you of forests, freedom, and dreams. It seeps into your skin like rain fills the soil.
He turns towards the rest, the outline of his skull shimmering.
And the rest of the Scout Regiment comes into view.
With a ragged breath, you slump down next to Levi, inhaling the dry air of gunpowder.
Your eyes burn as you watch all the faces of the soldiers you never quite had enough time to grieve, never knew how to make proud:
Erwin and his knowing expression, eyes warm with pride and gratitude.
Hange and their contagious smile, a sight you had not seen since they became a Commander—you didn’t realize how much you’d missed it until now.
Miche, Nanaba, Moblit—the people you considered to be like brothers and sisters.
Levi’s squad, both old and new.
Furlan and Isabel.
All of them, blurring into view before you, blending between clouds of smoke and destruction.
You want to say something to them, but words fail you.
I’m sorry you all died so soon. I wish I could have saved you. I wish it were all of you, not me, who stood alive now.
But what good will those words do now? They are dead and you are not.
“Thank you for everything,” is what you settle on.
And you aren't alone to feel the weight of their presence.
“Hey guys…” Levi croaks. "You see that? This is what you dedicated your heart to."
Levi’s voice is chokehold with emotions. It may be the single most earth-shattering sound you’ve ever heard.
You turn towards him, watching the way the bandages on his face are soaked in dirt and blood, the way tendrils of black hair cling to his damp forehead. There's fresh scabs that shine like pearls.
It makes your stomach coil, seeing the extent of Levi's suffering.
No, you think, this isn't the full scope of Levi's pain, only the physical proof of it. Levi's suffering started long before today; his life has been marked with grief and pain.
But he’s alive. He’s here with you.
“You’re alright,” you tell him. “You’ll be all right.”
You and Levi are now the last veterans still alive, the last survivor of the friendships forged when all that mattered was reclaiming the Walls for those living inside.
Your shoulders brushes against his, and you want to burst into tears—realizing that him being undoubtedly here means that he isn’t just a specter like everyone else you have loved. That he is here, which means that he is alive, which means you two have each other still.
Levi, I am glad to be with you. Here at the end of all things, you think to yourself, lips trembling.
As if feeling that unwavering bond, Levi’s eye flit towards you—shallows of sapphire and silver gleaming like water. You realize his stare is red rimmed like yours. He slowly raises his uninjured hand towards you, patting your hair tenderly in the way he always did.
Then, he raises a fist over his heart and looks ahead towards the Survey Corps.
You turn back towards them.
Dedicate your hearts.
How many times had you heard Erwin repeat this sentence, how many times had you whispered those words like a gospel, hoping to find some truth at the end of this journey?
“We’re proud of you. So proud of you both,” Erwin says with a wistful smile.
“What will we do now?” you ask, a sob crackling out of you.
Hange shoots you a knowing look. “Continue to explore the world like a Scout, of course!”
“Live your life the way you always dreamed to,” Moblit adds.
“Treat yourself to some goddamn rest,” Miche says.
"And take care of him for us, will you?" Furlan asks, nodding towards Levi. Isabel grins.
“Shit,” you mutter, screwing your eyes shut.
And then, you mirror Levi’s gesture, smacking your bruised fist on your heart.
This is the last time, you think, feeling thick tears glide down your cheeks, blurring your vision. This is goodbye.
And indeed, the ghosts of your friends now bow their heads as they place their salutes over their hearts, thanking you for all that you have done. You study each of them, trying to burn every detail of them in your memory.
Thank you all. We’ll see you again, you think through labored breaths.
Next to you, Levi dips his head down, a ghost of smile on his lips.
And as the steam dissipates and the valleys of Fort Salta come peering through, reality settles in.
For the first time in your life, you don’t know what tomorrow will look like.
Where do you go from here?
You don't think the life of a soldier is what awaits either of you. There’s Levi, who’s wounded all over. He was Humanity’s Strongest all this time, but now, he can no longer be that man. It would be unfair to expect him to remain that.
So maybe after all of that, what Levi really deserves is peace. For someone to look after him the way he looked after Humanity for so long.
“Tell me,” you say, a sort of childish wonder settling across your face as you look up to the sky, fixing the clouds over the horizon where sandy valleys and endless blue meet together, “what do you suppose we do now?”
Levi doesn’t say anything. You glance at him, scared that maybe he sustained an injury after all, and that he’s slowly dying next to you.
But you find that Levi is still there, staring at you with a silvery eye that makes you feel seen.
“I don’t know,” Levi’s answer is rough and tangled with uncertainty, an expression marred with dark shadows. There’s a line of clean skin where a tear paved its way across his dusty cheek. You want to cradle his face between your palms, to cleanse him of the remains of this battle.
Instead, you gently take Levi’s hand between your own, not knowing if after all the injuries he sustained, if he can even feel the pressure of your heated touch. But Levi squeezes your fingers, and you hold back a choke. Alive, he's alive.
“I think… I think now, we must explore this new world,” you murmur. “Now, we must learn to live.”
"Learn to live, huh?" he says softly.
You smile.
The two of you hold on to each other like that for a long time. It is Onyankopon who later finds you watching the scenery, gazing at where the Survey Corps last stood in a field of white flowers and endless green.
Now, pink and violet sunlight overshadow everything else, the start of a new dawn breathing life into this valley of the dead.
And perhaps, just perhaps, it is enough for now.
A tribute to Levi because he's everything to me. This piece was inspired by Lord of the Rings:
"I'm glad to be with you Samwise Gamgee... Here at the end of all things." - Tolkien
— Masterlist
#levi fanfiction#levi x reader#levi ackerman#aot levi#levi x oc#howl's moving castle#levi x you#levi x y/n#attack on titan#levi ackerman x reader#captain levi#ao3 fanfic#attack on titan fanfiction#aot#flo's oneshots#aot spoilers#flo is writing . . .
407 notes
·
View notes