#but also sat next to a man who kept a loaded gun next to the bed and said he’d use it on fka twigs if she left him

[bunisher]

yeah i do think it’s interesting how the guy who plays a character who kills abusers had one on his podcast and then was like hehehe frankcastlecore Bro The Character You Play Would Shoot You Too

[ladyquietus]

watching Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse and knowing Hobie Brown has gotten me feral. Could not stop thinking about being that man’s lover and oh the things he could do. Jesus.

Getting Real

Hobie Brown x Fem y/n: Smut Read

© ladyquietus

AN: a bit older y/n from another dimension, some smut, fluff, cussing, nicknames, semi age gap, the works.

W: I apologize if I’ve made any mistakes, English is not my first language.

Minors, ageless blogs do NOT interact.

>> Long read ahead

“Oh, I bet you think your honey taste like sugar. But honey, sugar don’t taste that bitter~ Baby, you ain’t sweet. Look at what you did to me~…” y/n sings to the lyrics, tapping her foot on the floor. The music blaring from her headphones, getting distracted from doing homework infront of her.

She adjusted the frames of her glasses, licking her lips and continued humming to the tone. Failing to notice the flashes of bright, sharp lights beaming through the bedroom window behind her.

It was heavily pouring outside, the shut window slowly rutted opened. Slim fingers appeared on the frame, pulling a bit more force Til the figure could come through the window.

The masked vigilante made his way inside, patting off droplets of rain. He took off his mask, letting his full blown hair pop up.

He smirked at the sight of y/n, sitting infront of her desk, Clueless about this presence. The music she was listening and the loudness of the rain made y/n unaware of Hobie approaching her.

Hobie posed finger gun on his right hand, pressing the tips of his fingers on y/n’s upper back.

“Hands where I came see em’ lil’ lady” he jokes, feeling her tensed.

Y/n quickly pulled off her headphones and spun around, looking at a chuckling Hobie in disbelief.

“You ass,” she glared at him, pushing him off.

“You’re gonna get robbed easily love, I won’t be around you for that.” He holds his hands up in defense.

“Luckily, we’ve got another Spider-Man here huh, what’re you doing here anyways?” She questions, crossing her legs on the office chair she was sitting.

Hobie plopped down on her bed, wincing a bit when he noticed a small stain of blood on his shirt on the left side where his ribs lie.

“Shit.” He cussed, pulling off his leathered spiked jacket.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n stood up concerned, slowly made her way towards him and sat beside him.

“Just a graze, don’t worry. Must’ve gotten caught a crossfire between these crime families back home, what nasty lil’ shits.”

“And you didn’t feel that until now? You must’ve been in a load of adrenaline, It must be wearing off.” y/n sighs, kneeling down beside the bed and pulled out a storage box. She took out a first aid kit and sat back again beside Hobie.

“You’re cute when you’re concerned doll, it’s like you’re forgetting I have massive pain tolerance.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, feeling her worry for him a bit made his heart swell.

He always kept his heart up on his sleeve, meeting y/n months ago somehow changed that despite they’re still friends. He also knew that she was older than him, two years older in fact and it must’ve set her back.

They met when he and Gwen came to her dimension, looking for their villain of the week that somehow skipped across dimensions and landed on hers. She was a med student, walked in a parking lot alone at a convenience store. Not knowing she was being followed a creep whom Hobie took action on.

The rest was history.

“Putting your schooling in good use aye?” He jokes again, taking off his shirt after seeing her getting crossed.

Thou shall not poke a pissed off y/n.

“Glad you find this funny, what would happen if you got hit somewhere serious huh Hobie?” She clicked her tongue, throughly disinfecting his flesh wound.

“Relax, you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”

Hobie’s relentless teasing didn’t lighten the situation, it just made y/n worry more whenever he’s not around. She would never really know the next time he’ll come back.

He felt it, she was always the worrywart. Somehow he could read what was going on through her pretty little head.

“I’ll always come back to you, my love. So please stop worrying, I’m here with you right now and I promise you I’d want to go through everything for you.” His voice softens, his gaze never leaving hers.

He leaned just a bit closer, caught a whiff of her lavender shampoo and declared that it was his favorite scent.

“Hobs…” she quietly says, feeling the tension between them. Her eyes meeting his, couldn’t help but noticed he kept glancing on her lips.

“Mhm, yes mamas?” He couldn’t help but inch a bit closer, grazing his lip on hers.

Just a lil bit of tease.

The slight cold of his steel lip ring had made y/n’s skin crawl with goosebumps. His rough, firm hand radiated a lot of warmth on hers. Yet his thumb caressing the top of hers made something stir up inside her.

The new nickname he gave her wasn’t helping, she felt a bit guilty she wanted to hear it more from his lips.

He was waiting for her, he didn’t want to freak her out if he was too forward. But he was too damn excited, he’s been wanting to kiss her for a while now.

It was eating him up inside.

y/n closed the distance, letting her lips connected to his but it was only quick and subtle. She was nervous as hell, the last time she kissed someone was her ex-boyfriend a year ago.

“Babe that’s not enough, not enough at all.” His voice was heavy with need, in need of her.

Hobie raised his left hand, enclosing his slender fingers on her jawline. Grasping it softly and pulled her closer, wrapping his other hand around her waist to pull her on top of him.

Y/n squeaked In surprised, Instinctively holding on to his broad shoulders.

“Hobs-”

His lips immediately crashing to hers, he loved how soft it felt and the taste of earl grey tea still lingered on her tongue.

y/n moaned on his mouth, it was music to his ears and he wanted to listen to it more.

The kiss was sloppy, y/n was struggling to keep up. Her nails dug into his skin, making him grow excited beneath her. She surely felt it and subconsciously started to grind on it through his leathered pants.

“Mm mas, You’re making it hard to stop,” he says in between kisses.

She grew too fond of it, she didn’t care if her lips had start to swell or bruised. It was addicting to make out with Hobie Brown.

“Mmm,” were the only sounds she left out. Taking the lip ring between her teeth and pulled slowly.

Hobie’s grip on her waist and thighs got tighter when she did it, almost made him cum on that spot. He swore this woman was gonna be the death of him if she keeps it up.

y/n’s hands started to trail, from his shoulders to his chest. Feeling every detail of him, how warm he was despite the nonchalance he always gives off to most people.

She reached right above his pants, Hobie was sensitive to what she has touched.

y/n dragged a finger over the tent, her wetness grew at the feeling of how hard he was of her.

They both finally pulled away, heavy breathing. Hobie leaned against the headboard, still not loosening his vice on her as if she were to disappear any moment.

Looking at her all disheveled and swollen lips, her eyes kept screaming at him to just take her then and there.

“Love, I’d want you to shoot me in the head if I ever say no to you but have you even done it before? I wouldn’t want to rush you to something you’re not comfortable with.” He reassures in a soft voice despite his lustful gaze.

y/n couldn’t care less anymore, she had too much pent up frustration. She was still a virgin, the only farthest thing she had done with her ex was giving and receiving oral sex.

“Hobs, if you won’t fuck the living daylights out of me- I will be putting a lock on that window the minute you leave.” she huffs, palming his hardness.

“Damn mamas alright, I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckles, both of his hands crawling their way to her ass. A bit frustrated that she was still covered in shorts and a baggy shirt, it may look cute on her but Hobie preferred much that she wore close to nothing at all.

“Gonna need these off first,” he mumbles, burying his face on her neck, leaving lazy kisses and soft bites.

“Couldn’t agree more,” she replied, closing her eyes and biting her lip to moan out loud.

Hobie ripped out her shorts, tugging the cloths away and was surprised to feel her wearing a thong.

“Jesus, love.” He smiles against her neck, immediately groping her cheeks and slapping the right.

He pulled on her thong, making her wet slit grind against the thin fabric.

“Fuck, Hobs…”

“You’ve been wearing this kind of panties around me all this time?” Another slap on her right cheek.

“Mmm sometimes,” y/n started to enjoy this too much.

Another slap before his firm fingers started to spread her cheeks apart, groping and gripping them all around.

Without warning, Hobie pushed her over on her back. Making them switch sides. He was on top, wouldn’t even stop smiling at her.

“Do you know how many times I keep thinking about you being underneath me?” He caresses her cheek, placing a peck.

He lowered himself more, placing more and more small yet sweet kisses. Raising the disruptive shirt to her chest til her breasts were on full view to his pleasure.

Hobie already loves them, they were perfect to him. They weren’t too small nor too big, mouth started to salivate at the size of her areolas.

Letting one arm to support himself, he cupped one of her breast and kneed on the erected bud. Licking her lips for another neediness.

“Something tells me it’s gonna be more than once,” y/n managed to whimper out, Hobie taking the whole bud in his mouth.

His hand caresses it’s way to her swollen pussy lips, eating the thin line of cloth. He could feel how needy and wet she was for him, and God she was soaked.

She squirmed, bucking her hips for more of his fingers. Meanwhile, Hobie’s mouth was occupied- switching between one tit to another.

His fingers itched to plunge deep inside her ache, he pulled the thong to the side and started rubbing her clit.

“Hobs… fuck, that feels good,” she mewed, kept on squirming.

Hobie hummed in pleasure, feeling her wither from his touch made him smirk.

Y/n’s body jerked when she felt a sharp and pleasurable pain when Hobie softly hit one of her nipples.

“Hobie!” He chuckles, licking the aching nub soothingly.

“If you’ll let me mas, I need to taste you. Need to fill my hunger for you right now.” He left her chest, licking and biting his way down to her abdomen. Leaving so much marks, he’s gotten too proud and wanted to mark her more.

She couldn’t say anything but whimpers. She nodded her head in response, but this only wanted Hobie to tease her more.

Without warning, both of his fingers plunged inside her. Feeling the walls tightening around him, it was so warm- he started imagining how amazing it must feel if it were his cock.

“Use your big girl words, love.” He curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made y/n grip her hands all over his body.

“Hobs- eat me out please,”

Hobie didn’t waste any time, he’d gotten too needy- placing his lips on her sex. It reeked of desperation.

Both his left hand and mouth enjoyed giving y/n too much pleasure, His right gripping on her inner thigh to keep her open for him. Y/n still kept on squirming, her legs begging to close in on his head.

It was too much.

She bit her bottom lip too hard, she swore she was already seeing stars as Hobie kept on abusing her pussy with the combo. She couldn’t help but let her moans out, a few cusses and whimpers of “Hobs” kept escaping from her mouth.

She felt this wave, this urge for release.

“Wait Hobs- Hobie! I’m gonna pee- stop,” she started to pull away, gripping on the sheets as if it were to help her.

Hobie didn’t say anything but looked at her, meeting her eyes but didn’t stop. He went faster, flicking his tongue all over her wet sex and fucking it with his fingers.

“Hobi- Hobie,” she couldn’t escape, Hobie kept on pulling her back. The more she struggled- the closer the release.

“Hobie” her toes curled, letting the wave overcome her.

It came in spurs, she started squirting all over his mouth and face. Hobie immediately started lapping her up, trying to drink every little drop.

That’s a first, even my ex wasn’t able to do that with me. Her chest was heaving, thighs still trembling from the aftermath.

“If I knew you tasted this good, I would’ve done this sooner.” He smiles, giving her pussy one last kiss before kissing her lips a few times.

“Mmm- sorry, I made a mess on your face,” she breathes out, pussy still sensitive as Hobie’s huge girth was pressing against it.

Hobie unzipped his pants, quickly taking it off and freed his aching cock from his boxers.

“You’re gonna have to make another mess, mas. Whole lot more,” grinding the tip at her wetness, giving special attention to her swollen clit.

“Hobie… I just came,” she glanced nervously at his size, it was a good guess of 6-7 inches with a bit of a wide veiny girth.

“Better then, I’ll take care of you darling. Don’t worry, you’ll be wanting it more soon,” Hobie slowly pressed on his hips, the tip slowly making its way inside her folds.

As he leisurely pressed it inside, she could feel him stretching her out. Her walls adjusting to his size, but surprisingly she only felt a scale of 5/10 pain.

“You okay, my love?” Hobie asks, each of his hands holding her hands down. Kissing her cheek and neck to reassure her.

“Mhm, just keep going. Is it even fully in yet?” She groaned.

“Not even close, but fuck I’m only half way through- the tip’s kissing your cervix already.” He laughs a bit, then groaned at she kept gripping around him.

The pain started to retreat, and all she could feel how full she was of him, and he was right- she could feel his hard tip pressing on the entrance of her cervix.

“Hobie, move. Please.” She begged, looking at his pained expression.

“Mmm, love. You’re still adjusting,” Hobie groaned, hearing her say those words almost made him pound into her to oblivion.

“Please Hobs, start fucking me. I won’t say it again.” She says sternly, something inside her grew excited. Her nervousness soon started to diminish and was replaced with yearning.

He looked down on her, wringing her wrists together above her head and slinging his web- bounding them together.

“As you wish.”

He placed one of his hands under her ass, pulling her up a bit and started to pull his length out before plunging it back in her.

Y/n’s bound hands immediately placed themselves at the back of his neck. It was a slow pounding but she was hitting it too deep, the tip pounding her cervix at every thrust.

The squelching noise that both of their sexes made overwhelmed their senses, their animalistic groans filled the room. Both couldn’t care less if their neighbors could hear them fucking away.

Their sweats began to mix, everything what they’re doing made them intertwine with one another. Y/n’s wetness was already covering Hobie’s cock, pummeling her has gotten easier and more of his length disappeared in her.

“Shit, mas, Your pussy’s swallowing me. I can’t stop.” Hobie gritted his teeth, being inside her made him addicted.

She felt that familiar urge again, but it was stronger. Hobie’s merciless pummeling edged her closer.

“Hobs,” she whimpered.

“I know, I know love. Cum all over me, make a mess.” He connected his lips to hers, muffling her loud moans as she let herself succumbed to his commands. Her whole body bucked and quiver against his.

Hobie hissed, sensed he was nearing to his end. But he wanted to finish feeling all of her crumbling first, then pulled out. Just barely, spurs of his hot cum landed on her stomach.

It took them a moment, giving them both time to come back to the real world.

Hobie plopped himself on top of her, she didn’t mind the weight. It was rather comforting, feeling him against her.

Hobie placed himself beside her on the bed, pulling her in- not caring they were both buck naked. Ripping off the web on her knotted hands.

She snuggled closer to him, knowing there was no turning back after what they’ve done.

“I know I’ve said I don’t believe in labels and consistency but, I’d prefer to make an exception for you, my love. Only you. I want this to be real for us,” Hobie broke the silence, playing with the strands of her hair and caressing her back.

“You better keep your word, Hobs. I have liked you for quite some time now.” Y/n started to trace her fingers on his chest, savoring each moment they have.

“I think we’ve gone way past using “like” love, doesn’t really match the way you’ve been needing me earlier.” He teases, groping an ass cheek.

[lazysailor]

11 Kayden

Kayden feels at peace right now..Well mostly at peace right now. Her and Avery have been going through this safe house system for a while now which she has now grown accustomed to. But she doesn’t like that she’s gone from Avery for long periods of time, or the fact the first time they were transported to a different safe house for the first time Avery and Ryder ended up in the same safe house together. Kayden figured out she was jealous of this because even before they were transferred Avery seemed to talk to Ryder more than he did with her. She doesn’t know why she thinks this way, maybe it’s the fact Avery had been sticking with her for so long that she just isn’t used to him talking to other people other than her.

She sits on the cold hard ground of some person's basement in the safe house they own, she always questioned why it was always a basement and not something more creative. Kayden also shares this safe house with four other people who all appear to be younger than her. She doesn’t go out of her way to introduce herself because she’s always not been the best at talking to people, she was even surprised with herself when she managed to talk to Ryder. They're all talking to each other as Kayden starts to zone out, but it is quickly stopped as the door to the basement opens.

“Alright you kids head upstairs, the ice cream man is here!” The person yells from the top of the steps.

Kayden is used to this as she stands up and starts to ascend the basement steps. Some of the younger kids are hesitant at first but they shortly follow up the steps.

Kayden follows the assumed owner of the safe house as they open the door. She doesn’t really bother to say goodbye as she always knows what happens next. She gets inside the ice cream van, sits in there for god who knows how long as other kids come and go, and eventually she makes it to her stop. But today was different from normal.

Everything was normal at first, she got inside the ice cream van, she watched kids come and go, but her stop was different, the ice cream man had dropped her along with several other kids at a warehouse. She’s escorted in by people in military suits with guns, she didn’t know if they were loaded or not but she didn’t want to risk it. The warehouse was crowded and had a foul smell to it, but she quickly realized the place was kept in good shape and that it wasn’t on the brink of collapsing. The food wasn’t the best but the food she was already eating wasn't that good either.

She was alone for a day until another Unwind shipment came in, this one had Avery and Ryder in it. Kayden seemed to notice Avery immediately and so did Avery, she played it off casually and walked over to him despite the fact she wanted to run over to him.

“Kayden! It’s nice to finally see you again!” Avery says to her as he gives her a hug.

Kayden wasn’t used to being hugged yet, but she didn’t push Avery away since he was finally back after a long time.

“It’s nice to see you too.” She says with a small smile.

Then Kayden swears she heard Ryder mumble something.

“Oh those lovebirds.” He mumbles.

Kayden thinks she heard him wrong and just ignores what he had said.

..

“So how were things while I was gone?” Avery asks Kayden as they sit down at a table together.

“Not bad.” She simply says as she fidgets with some random trinket she found.

“How were things with you.?” Kayden asks him.

“Oh they were fine, me and Ryder got along nicely since we got to spend some more time together.” He tells her as he seems to slightly blush when he mentions Ryder.

“Oh.” She simply says as she tries to hide her jealousy.

They both sat in silence for a few moments, seeming to take in each other's presence after a long time.

“Well I’m gonna head to the bathroom and see Ryder, I’ll talk to you later.” Avery says as he gets out of his seat and heads down to the men’s bathroom, which was one of the two bathrooms in the warehouse.

..

The warehouse was fine for the most part, but the part she disliked the most was the loud sound when a plane would pass over them. The roof seemed to shake whenever a plane passed over them, it hurt her ears and caused tears to build up in her eyes whenever that happened. But for the most part she kept it hidden like she had for her whole life, but tonight was different.

She was trying to get some sleep, but suddenly the loud sound of the warehouse's back door opened.

“Get up! Leave everything behind and get into groups of four!” One of the fatigues yelled.

Almost everyone in there shot up from their sleeping place and started scattering to find someone to be with. All the noise and commotion starts to become overwhelming for Kayden, she feels herself start to shake and tears build up in her eyes, she feels like she’s about to throw up as she nearly falls down on the ground. But someone stops her.

“Kayden, are you okay.?” The voice asks, it was Averys.

She couldn’t express her feelings verbally at the moment, she shakes her head slightly as a “no”.

Avery doesn’t say anything and he starts to redirect her to somewhere more quiet like he exactly knew what she was overwhelmed by. He moved to a more quiet area and he didn’t seem to care that they were supposed to be grouping up right now.

Kayden felt her tears go away and herself stop shaking, he looked at Avery with a relieved look.

“Thank you..” She quietly says.

“No problem.” He says.

Then a fatigue started marching over to them.

“You two, get in a crate now.” The fatigue says as they grab both of them by the collars of their shirts.

Kayden tried to break out of the fatigues grip but she didn’t succeed as the fatigue puts both of them in a crate. The crate felt oddly spacious as they were placed in there.

“Are there only two of us in here.?” Kayden says thinking out loud.

“I guess.” Avery says as he props his feet on the other end of the crate.

They feel themselves get lifted off the ground by a forklift, it seemed like they were being carried somewhere. Kayden already started to feel tired again.

“I’m gonna get some sleep.” She mumbles as she closes her eyes.

“Well goodnight Kayden.” Avery says with a small smile.

..

They were both asleep as the plane began to descend to the brick colored ground of the Arizona desert. The plane began to experience turbulence as it was descending towards the ground. Kayden woke up due to the sudden shaking motion.

“What’s happening.?” She mumbles as she opens her eyes.

“I think we made it to where we’re going.” Avery says, it seemed like he didn’t sleep at all during the flight to this unknown place.

The plane then landed on the rough Arizona sand and shortly came to a full stop.

Avery tried to get out of the crate once they landed, but he ended up bumping his head on the top of the crate.

“Ow..Maybe we should wait to get out.” He says as he now felt a bit embarrassed from his stupid action.

“Where do you think we are.?” Kayden asks.

Avery thinks about it for a moment.

“I don’t know, but it’s probably gonna be the safest place we’ll be at for awhile.” He says.

After a few minutes the top of the crate is pulled open to reveal a kid around there age with a brownish greenish tank top.

“Oh I've never seen two people in a crate, they usually hold four people!” The teen says as he offers his hand to Avery.

Avery takes the hand and the teen pulls him up, he shortly pulls Kayden out of the crate too.

It took Kayden a second to regain her footing but she stuck close to Avery. Everyone else seemed to directed towards the exit of the plane into the hot Arizona heat, Avery started following them and so did Kayden.

As she exits the plane the sun hits her in the eyes and she sees all the kids who were at the warehouse gathered up in a group and an old man with several scars across his face stands at the very front of the group facing the rest of the runway teens.

Authors note: The warehouse Kayden, Avery, and Ryder stayed at was different than the one Connor and Risa stayed at.

[imagines-babes]

Shootout (Foolish)

Hey so why not 2 stories this week. This is the ending but hey you have met an old friend. Anyway I might do an Dream story next week or a C! George with c!God y/n. But who know. This week song is also, ‘Shootout’ by Izzamuzzic, Julien Marchal .

Part 1 Foolish list Masterlist

**********

After the house, Noah became distant with me. I would try to stand close but he only moved away. I just stared at him wondering why.  For him he was is focusing on the marks on the trees trying to find this safe haven for us.

The first night hit, he insisted that he would stay up that night as I nod looking over at him. He sat close to me before we set up a little fire. ' what do you think it looks like?' I questioned him. ‘Well I think it looks what freedom and no worries feels like. That doesn't make sense does it?' He questioned as I shrugged giving a small laugh. 'Y/n,' he looks from the fire to me, 'if one of us gets bitten. We should promise each other that we will still live our life. Not just cry.' All I gave was sorrow eyes then nods. 'But we will tell each other if one of us gets bitten right,' I stared at Noah as he just stared down at the fire with a nod. 'Of course we will.'

By next day, the lines were becoming faint as for the walker started to come more frequently. We would shot as much as we can with the ammo we had. That was slowly going out so we had to find more quick and soon. The forest was cut short entering a town. A bunch of stores on just one street. My guess this was the Main Street. We tired to read the signs. But some words were missing. Noah held my hand as I followed his lead. We both walk to find an gun store. We both went our separate way holding up the guns making sure there isn't any walkers. I started to look around as I notice on one hall there was a tent. I slowly walked up to it as I looked behind me. To nothing walking backwards till I heard a rustle. 'Who's in there?' I started back to the tent using the Marshall to open the tent only to hear a gun click behind me. 'Now I want you to drop the Marshall and turn around' the voice. It was familiar yet the voice was a slight deeper than Noah. Slowly unloading the gun placing it on the floor. Turning to see the man cover everything but his eyes. His eyes were relax as he stared at me. Something with him was so familiar. 'Y/n?' He questioned as I nod. Then Noah called for my name as I answer. 'Luke' he gave a nod as I went up to hug him. Revealing his face. I held him tight as Noah looked at us then to his old friend. Hugging him aswell. 'How are you still here? In this place?' Luke answer our question. We told him we're he is heading. He agreed to join us.

Night two, approach us while we stayed in Luke tent. It wasn't big but we would all still sleep inside. The two kept talking about old memories with a smile escaping their face. For me I was falling asleep on Noah shoulder while hearing the two talk. 'How long have you two been something?' Luke questions as they glanced at y/n. 'Before the apocalypse, now it's just different. Living like the world is ending. Which it is but y/n. Y/n just makes it seem like we can face anything together with the world or not.' Noah stare at y/n with a  smile. Luke stared at the two with a smile.

This is the day, we found the safe haven. Walking closer we noticed a bridge with the water underneath. Walking on it, the wood wasn't as sturdy as before. Slowly one by one made it off the bridge. The water started to pick up its pace. Noah was the last. He heard the groans from behind him as I load in my gun pointing at the walker.!'come on Noah we are alsmost there’ he gave a soft smile then look at Luke with a nod. Noah turned and shot one walker. Anyone could hear that shot. Luke put down the Marshall taking it out of my hands. Noah started to walk closer to us till another walker then another then another. ‘You have to go. Both of you’ he stared at me as I shake my head. ‘I’m not leaving you’ I stared at him as he pulled up his pants. The Walkers bite. I stared as it was taking over his leg. Slowly it was gonna take over his body. And he wouldn’t be the same Noah I knew. I wanted to say something but my face said it all. ‘ It happened before that White House. I was being careless and a walker came out of nowhere. I’m sorry y/n but you have to go.’ He pulled out something from his pocket. ‘I love you,’ I knew what he was gonna do. He gave a soft smile. ‘Live your life don’t morn over me too much alright,’ I gave a nod as Noah looked at Luke. His old friend. Luke wouldn’t admit it, but he was crying, he was losing a friend. ‘Take care of them,’ Luke nod. Turning his back as he walked a little further to only see the huge fence. ‘Y/n we found it.’ I turned my head to see the fence as some people outside. I wanted to stay but I knew Noah wouldn’t have let me. I stared back at him once more while he smiled at me giving a nod. I walked over to Luke not looking at Noah. I started to run to the people outside trying to get their attention. Only to hear in the background.

*Boom*

The water settled down. The bridge wasn’t there. Nor was he.

[peakyblindersxx]

drunk in love - john shelby x reader

a/n: hello my loves :) here is the john fic that i'm personally really excited about bc i fucking love him & i hope you guys like it!! i'm taking requests if you guys want me to write anything in specific and as always, feel free to message me :)

love, abi xxx

gif by: @deeptheon

prompt: you're john's secretary & he takes you on a trip.

warnings: nsfw!! smut with a teeny tiny bit of fluff if you squint, choking, power play, john being generally irresistible

There were many words to describe John Shelby. Cowardly was not one of them. In the short time you had known him, you had seen him fight god knows how many people, in countless bars across Birmingham. You had seen and heard stories of John blowing up buildings and setting bars on fire. And of course, there was the matter of his arrogance. John dripped confidence from his shoes to his slicked back hair. So cocky, in fact, that you almost wanted to tell him to shut up as much as you wanted to ride his face. Almost.

So, there you sat wistfully at your desk, sneaking glances of him in his office whenever you could. Not that you would even have a chance if you tried; you were his goddamn secretary. Despite the fact that he oozed arrogance, John was a good boss, who always approved your requests for days off. Sure, you were at his beck and call pretty much 24/7, but this also meant you had a front row seat to all the girls he fucked. The women were always stunning, making your hopes deflate even further. However, for the last month, there had been no women. You chalked it up to him finding some sort of girlfriend, so you kept your interactions with him as businesslike as possible. Deep down, through every meeting, phone call, and even just through the windows of his office, you drank in every second of John you could get. He was intoxicating; the smell of his cologne nearly brought you to your knees.

You snapped out of your thoughts, training your eyes back on the work in front of you and taking a drag from your cigarette. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder. It was Lizzie, a cigarette between her slightly pursed lips. “John wants you in his office. He doesn’t seem mad, but then again, who knows,” she stated. You stood, smoothing out your red pleated skirt and black blouse and quickly opening your compact to make sure your lipstick hadn’t smudged. “Thanks, Lizzie,” you replied, shooting her a smile as she made her way back to her desk. You made your way across the open office space to John’s office, knocking softly on the frosted window pane that read Shelby Company, Ltd in gold lettering.

“Come in,” John called out, his voice muffled behind the wooden door. You turned the doorknob and entered his office, shutting the door behind you. John sat at a tufted leather chair, puffing from a cigar, flipping through a folder. His suit jacket was abandoned on the velvet settee that sat in front of the fireplace, the gold chains of his sleeve garters glistening in the light. The glow from the fireplace glinted off of John’s profile, catching the frame of his jaw just right. You admired the way the light reflected off of the rings on his hands, making you want to feel the cool metal against your body. His hair was neatly slicked back as usual, along with his dark grey vest, white dress shirt, and tie, making him command the attention of the room.

“Lizzie said you wanted to see me?” You questioned, standing at the back of the room.

“Have a seat, Y/N,” John responded, gesturing towards the empty chairs that sat in front of his oak desk. You sat, crossing your legs and tucking them under the chair. John took another puff from his cigar, smoke billowing through the room. “I need to go to London, and

I need you with me.” You were a little surprised at this, since John had never asked you to go somewhere this far with him before.

“For how long?” You asked, taking a cigarette out and lighting it, your lipstick staining it a dark pink as you took a drag. John’s blue eyes bored into yours as he absent-mindedly flicked his cigar, ashing it into the crystal ashtray on his desk. It was almost as if he could read your mind and see all the filthy things you were imagining him doing to you. God, he was fucking irresistable.

“A week,” John replied, shooting his glass of whiskey as he stood, making his way to a locked cabinet and pulling out a wad of pound notes. He peeled a number of them off, making his way towards you and holding them out for you to take, leaning back against his desk facing you. “Buy yourself some nice dresses, eh? There’s going to be a lot of dinners, and I need you there to take notes.”

You accepted the cash, taking a long drag from your cigarette as your eyes met John’s. You couldn’t bring yourself to resist the urge to flirt back. “What’s your favorite color?” John seemed a little surprised at the question, but his normal confidence quickly returned as he smirked. “Black. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, eh?”

You nodded as he poured himself another whiskey, daydreaming about the way his rough hands would feel around your throat. “Is that all, Mr. Shelby?” You asked, black kitten heels tapping against the carpet.

John nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “I’ll see you at eight tomorrow.” You stood, turning to walk out of John’s office as you felt his eyes on your figure. As you closed the door behind you, you shivered in expectation. A week alone with John Shelby. How were you going to manage to keep your hands to yourself?

***

The rest of the work day passed quickly, and you headed to the nearest department store, choosing three different black dresses. As much as you hated to admit it, you wanted to look good for John. You wanted him to want you; to feel that longing that you felt between your legs every time his eyes met yours. You chose a longer formal black dress made of silk, a black sequined dress for a party, and the last, a short black dress with fringe that made you look almost like a burlesque dancer. You knew it was risky, exposing that much skin, but then again, John Shelby wasn’t a normal man. He knew what he wanted and he took it, never paying mind to what others thought.

As the rest of the night flew by, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed. No matter how many times you touched yourself, you couldn’t get the image of John’s smirk out of your head. You wanted him to bend you over right in his office, and you didn’t care who heard. You wanted him to take everything you had to offer. Eventually, you fell asleep, waking up to the sound of birds chirping loudly outside your apartment window. You almost jumped out of bed, blood pumping with excitement. You got ready, slipping on a dark purple silk dress with black tights and purple pumps, stuffing your cigarette case and pocketbook in your black handbag. You poured yourself a cup of tea, hurrying to get all your bags ready as you didn’t want to keep John waiting.

Right as eight o’clock arrived, you heard a knock on your door. It was John, smelling sweetly of cologne and wearing a freshly pressed black pinstripe three piece suit with a grey tie. His cap sat tilted on his head, and dangling from his lips was a cigar. He was a fucking vision to behold, and your head spun at the thought of the two hour car ride in close quarters that you were about to endure. The driver came in to take your bags, leaving John to walk you to the car. He held out his hand to help you step into the Bentley, your skin buzzing with electricity where his fingers touched yours. John closed the door, making his way to the other side and sliding into the leather interior while the driver finished putting the bags in the trunk and made his way to the driver’s seat, starting the engine and taking off.

John’s blue-grey eyes met yours as he puffed at his cigar, cracking the window slightly to let the smoke waft out. “You pack everything we need?” You subconsciously pressed your legs together, filthy images swirling through your brain as you managed to ignore them. “Yes, Mr. Shelby, I got the list you sent me for what to bring. Did you need anything other than that?”

John shook his head no, putting out his cigar in the ashtray. A comfortable silence settled over the two of you as the car rumbled along over the brick roads.

“What’s your favorite color?” You looked over at John in surprise. He must have understood your confusion as he added, “You asked what mine was. I want to know yours.”

“Red,” you replied, fumbling for a cigarette, and when finding one, striking a match to light it.

John’s eyes fixed on your dark red stained lips. “Red, aye?”

Your instincts got the better of you. “Is there a problem with that, Mr. Shelby?”

“Call me John,” he said, words muffled by the cigarette in his mouth that he was lighting. After he finished, he took a drag, fixing his eyes back on you. “And, no. The opposite, actually.”

You weren’t brave enough to ask what that meant, so you let silence take over once again. Maybe later, when you had had a few drinks in you. What the fuck were you doing?

Finally, the dirt roads underneath once again turned into cobblestone, and you knew you were in London by the smell and smoke that hovered over the city. The Bentley rolled to a stop in front of a massive factory building, stretching blocks long. You could hear the yells of the workers from inside the car. John reached for his gun, loading it and affixing it back into his holster.

“We’ve got a meeting first, then dinner. Driver’s going to drop off our bags at the hotel. C’mon sweetheart, and stay by me. Who knows what these fuckers are going to pull around here,” John said, opening the door and reaching his hand out for you to take. You blushed at the pet name, taking John’s hand as he quickly whisked you off the street and into the building, up a flight of stairs where two men directed the two of you into a meeting room with a large table and dark leather chairs. John sank into the chair at the head of the table, and you slid into the seat next to him, taking out a notebook. Before you had any time to even write the date, John’s hand was on your waist, pulling you close to him. Your skin prickled with goosebumps at the proximity.

“If anybody pulls a fucking gun, you get behind me. You understand?” You nodded, crossing your legs at the ankle as you tried to focus your thoughts on something other than how fucking amazing John smelled. John’s hand left your waist as the door opened, the men whom he was meeting with entering the room. The meeting was uneventful, John successfully closing the deal with these men, who you found out were the Chinese. The driver picked you both up out front, taking the two of you back to your hotel to get changed for what you found out was a French restaurant in London’s downtown. The hotel room was a suite with two rooms, one for you and the larger one for John. You decided to wear the short black dress with fringe along with black fluffy kitten heels, and when John walked out of his room, the first word out of his mouth was “Fuck.” Your cheeks blushed a bright pink as John’s eyes traveled down your body.

“You look amazing.” John held out his arm for you to grab, leading you into the car as you took off. It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant, passing through busy streets packed with people of opulence. As John held the door for you to walk in, you almost gasped in amazement at the massive gold chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The waiter led you and John to your table, and as John pulled out your chair for you and walked around the table to sit at his, you almost couldn’t believe you were here, let alone with John Shelby, one of the biggest and by your standards most certainly the most handsome gangsters in Birmingham. Yet, there he sat across from you, looking fucking delectable in a dark grey three-piece suit and black tie.

The dinner was amazing, time passing quickly as the two of you fell into conversation. John Shelby was funny, you realized, and at the heart of it all, sweet. Soon, a glass of wine turned into five, and the driver eventually dropped the two of you back off at the hotel, as the other customers had complained about the raucous laughing coming from your table. You burst into the room giggling, John following close behind, as the two of you flopped onto the velvet settee, knees and shoulders brushing.

“God, you’re fucking pretty,” John said, eyes locking with yours. Your jaw almost dropped as your cheeks turned pink. “What?”

“You heard me,” John said, lighting a cigarette. “You’re fucking pretty.”

You stared at him, alcohol fueling your confidence. “Then why don’t you do something about it?” The words spilled out of your mouth. John wasted no time in pressing his lips against yours roughly, picking you up and setting you on the bed. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed himself against you, feeling his cock hard against your lower stomach, earning a grunt from John as he ripped off your dress, sending buttons flying across the room. You opened your mouth in protest, but John beat you to it. “I’ll buy you three new ones, yeah?” He questioned before running his hands down your hips, a finger slipping underneath the waistband of your black panties. Goosebumps ran down your skin and John chuckled, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

“God, you look so pretty all spread out for me. Better than I fucking imagined,” he said, pulling your panties down your legs and rubbing his thumb in circles on your clit. Your body jolted in response. “John,” you panted. “Oh fuck John, please don’t tease me..”

John grinned up at you, pushing one finger in you slowly. “What do you want? Tell me, darling.”

“Your mouth, John, please,” you gasped, squirming for some sort of relief. John responded by licking slowly up your cunt, flicking his tongue in circles around your clit before returning his attention to your pussy, his right hand rubbing your clit. You cried out, back arching as you pushed against John’s mouth. You felt him growl in response, vibrations pulsing throughout your body and sending you over the edge and you came all over John’s face. You attempted to catch your breath as John stood with a boyish smirk, wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve before discarding his clothes, his large cock standing at attention against his taught stomach muscles.

“God you taste good,” John rumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think I’ll have you tomorrow for breakfast too,” he grinned. You laughed in response, John cutting that laugh short by running the head of his cock up and down your dripping cunt.

“Sir, please,” you whined, eyes widening when you realized what had just left your mouth. Before you could apologize, you felt John’s hand wrap around your throat.

“You going to be a good girl for me, hmm?” John’s blue eyes bored into yours.

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered, crying out as John entered you at a ridiculous pace, covering your mouth with his. He kissed like a starved man, hungry for everything you had to give, and you gave it gladly. John’s cock bumped up against your g spot with every thrust as he fucked you, your moans echoing throughout the hotel room.

“Your pussy is amazing,” John groaned as he fucked into you relentlessly. “Fucking mine now, yeah?”

You nodded, unable to form the proper words as John chuckled darkly. “Pretty little thing, can’t even talk when I’m fucking you this good, hm?” Your only reply was a moan as John gripped your throat tightly, causing you to see stars.

“That’s right, sweetheart, come all over my cock,” John crooned as you reached your release, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. You cried out as John fucked you even harder, eyes locked with yours. “Mine,” John grunted, hips snapping flush with yours as he continued to thrust inside of you, your pussy squeezing around his cock as you neared your second orgasm.

“I want you to come in me, sir, please,” you begged, hands clawing at John’s back. John groaned in response, fucking you at the fastest pace he possibly could as your cries echoed off the walls before eventually releasing inside of you, falling onto the bed next you as the two of you caught your breath. John slung an arm around you, pulling you close to him as he locked his eyes with yours.

“I meant what I said, you know.” “What did you say?” You asked, brow furrowed with confusion.

“That you were pretty,” John said, sitting up to grab a cigarette and light it, his blue eyes glistening in the light of the fireplace. “I’ve thought about you more than I’d like to admit.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “And I’m not just drunk,” John continued, eyes meeting yours again. “I think I’m in love.”

“Me too.” You couldn’t stop the words from coming from your mouth. John followed them with a deep kiss, pulling you on top of him.

“I’m gonna fuck you until the sun comes up,” John grinned as you laughed, covering your mouth with his.

[yoonpobs]

bodyguard | kth | m

pairing: kim taehyung x oc

genre: enemies to lovers, Bodyguard!AU but oc is the bodyguard, fluff?

warnings: eventual smut, sexual tension, light choking, suggestive content bc oc is a minx and so is tae, i'll add as the story progresses, kim taehyung as a rich kid

words: 2, 138

summary: you protect taehyung from people but forget about the biggest threat. yourself.

“You’re who Namjoon hired?”

You’re used to having bewildered expressions when they find out that you out of all other possible candidates was what your agency decided to provide clients with rather than an objectively more stereotypical option—the big man.

But you were here for a specific reason and you knew that your duty lied in your responsibility to the man in front of you, even if his expression of doubt irritates you.

“Yes, Mr Kim. My name is ____.” You bow your head slightly, hands held together by your pelvis as you stand with your back straight.

The man in front of you glances over at his assistant, who only shoots him a firm nod as if to tell him that he was in fact stuck with you, despite all the uncertainties he may have.

Frankly, when Seokjin first recruited you into the agency, you were merely meant to be in charge of off-field duties and act as intel for field agents, but few of your previous mentors recognised your potential and physical agility when it came to mandatory training and pushed for you to be trained as an official agent rather than a tech lady.

You were lucky that a few of your colleagues had long ditched the misogynistic mindset that women were biologically weaker than men and would serve as a liability to the agency, but there were still a few higher-ups that were traditional in every sense that stuck their noses in your business when Seokjin would assign you to high profile clients.

Kim Taehyung was no different, but you were sure he fell into the latter of the traditional man. He did come from a lineage of old money.

“But you’re a … woman.” He says slowly, eyeing you up and down.

Even the outfit you were in was far off the usual appearance that most bodyguards would take on the first day of work. A long dress with a maxi slit by your leg, which left little to imagine what lies beneath. You bite your tongue to keep the snarky remark down and nod your head tightly to your new boss.

“I best fit the requirements you listed out to my agency.” Is your simple response.

His assistant steps between the two of you before your boss can say anything else, and based on your observations you note that he probably is the rationale behind Kim Taehyung’s mind; the reasonable and objective one.

“I’ll show ____ around headquarters just so she’s aware of the layout.” His assistant says hastily.

You don’t miss the last look your boss gives you, and all you do is bow your head before you turn on your heels, pulling out the gun in your garter and hold it behind your back—ready for duty.

“Jesus fucking Christ, _____.”

You’re used to hearing Taehyung sneer at you. It was something that you needed to get used to when you first were hired for the job because while he was known as an icon, a genius behind his father’s legacy—he was still wholly immature in every sense of a man child.

“Yes, Mr Kim?” You say blandly, flipping through the brochure that was laying idly on his coffee table; clearly ignoring the glare he was shooting you as he wraps the robe tighter around his frame.

Before he can open his mouth to yell at you again, you see the silhouette of the woman that was previously occupying his bed scurry past by the two of you, offering a meek bow of her head towards Taehyung before she’s out the door.

Your eyes follow her uninterestedly until you hear the click of the door, signalling that she was out and gone.

“What is your problem? Is my sex life something you need to protect too?” Taehyung spits.

You skim your eyes over his frame and spot a few marks littered along the expanse of his neck before your eyes rest on his tightened expression; your own one remaining impassive.

“My duty is to ensure you’re safe.” You remind him.

He scoffs, running a hand through his tangled hair—a clear testament to what he was engaging in before you had shamelessly kicked the woman out, mid-progression.

“Hyunbi is harmless.” He sneers at you.

You note that his erratic behaviour was likely a symptom of being cock-blocked, so you hold your tongue and just level him with an unimpressed stare.

“Hyunbi is the heir to the Im group. Need I remind you that her father’s company is the one that threatens your stockholders?”

Frankly, you try to engage with Taehyung on business matters as little as you could because all you were here for was to protect him and ensure that his head wouldn’t be served on the plate of an assassin that was out to get him.

You scoff to yourself because men were truly blinded by their desires and he would’ve risked his family’s fortune because he wanted to get laid.

“Okay, and? She was about to suck my dick not steal intel to the company.” He scoffs.

You don’t say anything but drop the files you found in her purse as you were doing your much-needed background checks on the woman that was visiting on such short notice, especially given the fact that she managed to bypass the system on being on the list before she was sent up.

The moment the beautiful women stepped foot into the apartment, you knew something was off about her. It was intuition from years of training under your belt, but also a womanly instinct. An intuitive sense that told you that she was going to wreak havoc if she could, and it was your duty to prevent that from happening.

“What’s this?” He picks up the documents to skim over the contents.

You don’t say anything but keep your eyes focused on his expression when you see it morph from confusion to realisation and pure mortification.

“She was going to blackmail me?” He asks in a disbelieving tone.

You nod your head.

“And if I hadn’t intervened then she would have probably falsely claimed that she was carrying your child.”

Taehyung shoves the documents aside and rubs his hands across his face, releasing a grunt as he lays back into the expensive leather of his couch.

“I can’t even get laid.” He huffs.

You roll your eyes.

“Taehyung,” You call out to him sternly, and when he opens one eye to look at you, only then do you continue, “You need to be more careful with who you fraternise with. You’re the CEO of the biggest manufacturing company in Korea and that is bound to make you a target to competitors. I can’t be cross-checking every single person you come across because my job is to protect you from physical harm—not be your mother.”

He narrows his eyes at you, and you see the petulance skim the surface of his iris as he leans forward, ensuring that his gaze is kept on your blank expression.

“So, that’s it? I can’t fuck around with anyone? Just because of my position? That’s a load of bullshit ____.” He snaps.

You purse your lips and give him a pointed glare.

“Stop twisting my words. Fuck who you like but be smart about who you stick your dick into.” You tell him lowly.

“Then I might as well fuck you, right? You’re the only person I can trust.” He sneers, leaning closer to you.

Your eyes widen, and your stoic demeanour is interrupted with his blunt words.

While you couldn’t deny that your boss was undeniably attractive, and alluded major sex appeal—he was still your boss and you would never cross professional boundaries no matter how much your body betrayed you. Even the Taehyung’s banter got much more … explicit and flirty, you brushed it off as him being himself. But he’s never explicitly stated anything like that before.

When you realise you’re gaping at him, you quickly try to compose yourself but unfortunately for you, he immediately catches on your surprised expression and bathes in it.

He smirks at you, standing up to walk across to where you were sat and plops next to you, a bit too close for a boss to be to his bodyguard.

“I’m right, aren’t I? You said to be smart and fuck someone who won’t have anything against me.” He whispers into your ear and you try to stop the shivers that travel down your body.

Taehyung notices how tense you are and reaches an arm to trail down your neck, slowly and teasingly until it rests on your hipbone.

You curse yourself for wearing only a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, since it was meant to be your day off until you were made aware of Hyunbi’s visit.

“Watch your mouth, Kim Taehyung.” You grit.

He snorts but nuzzles his nose into the column of your neck, and you feel the hot breath fan across your skin.

“You’re not denying it. Does that mean you want me to fuck you? Nice and deep?” He whispers the words against your skin and you can’t help the involuntary clamp of your thighs.

Taehyung, even as dense as he is, picks up on your movement immediately and reaches his other hand to keep your thighs apart, large hand sprawled across your thigh and you marvel for a moment at how big his hands are.

“Bet I could fuck the uptightness out of you, sweets.”

“Did you forget that I know everything about you?” You hiss, attempting to sound threatening but that only causes Taehyung to grin wider.

“Ooo. I love it when you get bitchy with me.” He teases, rubbing a circle with his thumb on your inner thigh as you feel desire pool in your belly.

“You’re insufferable.” You huff and you hate the way you sound breathless.

“Did I ever tell you how much your bitchiness turns me on? Always dreamed of shutting you up with my cock.” He confesses against your cheek this time and your eyes widen comically, your own hand clamping over his one over your thigh.

As Taehyung momentarily gets distracted with mouthing at your ear, you come to your senses and realise that you’re becoming the pawn in his game.

You quickly flip him over, until he’s settled under you with your knees sprawled next to his thighs, pelvis’ nearly touching as he smirks at you.

“Listen, Kim,” You whisper, leaning down until your noses are touching and you can spot every freckle on his face. He leans up to chase your breath but you don’t allow him the satisfaction of caving in.

“You’d never be able to handle my pussy.” You grin at him.

His eyes darken, and you feel his hands rest tightly on your hip.

You straddle his thighs and lean in until you’re sure his cock feels your pussy against him through the barrier of his robe and your shorts.

“Try me.” He challenges, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“You know why?” You lean into his ear to whisper, and your hands trail down his chest slowly and seductively until they reach the opening of the robe where his pelvis is, touch teasing and suggestive, especially when his breath hitches.

“Why?” He attempts to grind up to you, blinded by his carnal desire.

“Because …” You bite his earlobe and hear the grunt he lets out, cock unmistakably hardening until your core.

“Once you fuck me, you’ll never be able to fuck any other pussy without wishing it was mine.” You say as you pepper kisses down his jaw, right up to his chin until your lips are hovering above his.

But as soon as he attempts to close the distance, you push yourself off of him and return to your stoic and professional stance.

“You have a meeting with your investors in twenty.”

Taehyung gapes at you, the outline of his cock clear against the thin material of his robe as he releases heavy breaths of want as he looks at you in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious.” He snaps.

You shrug your shoulders and cock your head to the clock behind him.

“Good luck getting ready, Kim.” You say with a final smirk, enjoying the fact that you had him frustrated and high.

“This isn’t the end, _____.” He says lowly.

“You better hurry up and hope you finish in less than twenty minutes.” You tease, and you see the tip of his ears burn.

“Maybe I’ll give it five.” You say, flipping your hair over your shoulder and making sure to add a little sway to your hips when you walk away.

You briefly hear a fuck being uttered when you open the door to leave, and you feel triumphant with what you left him with.

[softscummymammon]

€Unexpected Acquaintance€

Assisted by:: @jinjinjinjin

❃.✮:▹»»——⍟——««◃:✮.❃

Sukuna just wanted this day to end. He was already in a bad mood from the storm last night, where he got little of his much needed sleep, and his mood had only gotten worse when he was faced with a bunch of "nature friendly" bastards protesting near the docks where his boat was tied down.

Now, he just wanted to get his daily load of fish for the market, and have a nap without dealing with any other goody two shoe hypocrites. He could already feel the headache building up behind his eyes.

Though the gentle rocking of the boat over the surface of the water did ease him slightly. People besides other fishermen were always so confused when he actually said something about himself and it happened to his be career in fishing. They were always so astounded when he said he could stay on a boat for a whole day. Weaklings, all of them.

Rubbing at his sore eyes, Sukuna glared at the surface of the horizon and took a sip of the alcohol in his canteen. Tucking the tin back into his wader's pocket, he patted the pocket for safe keeping.

Walking to the front of the boat, he checked his net markers he left a few days ago. Sukuna gasped when he saw his marker bobbing up and down frantically. Getting his equipment ready, he tugged on some gloves and grabbed at the net right under the marker.

Taking a breath, Sukuna started tugged on the net. Grabbing every piece of net coming from the water, Sukuna huffs as he pulls the net further and further from the water. The sound of splashing water reached his ears and he smirked in victory.

Putting all the access netting into one hand, Sukuna quickly reaches behind him for the mechanical hook. The machinery on his boat was built and bought by him only, so only he knew how it worked. By reaching for the net first, he can easily tie the access onto the hook and pull up the rest of it out of the water.

Doing exactly what was needed, he tied the net to the hook and grabbed onto the leaver and started cranking the leaver clockwise. The machinery raised the net out of the water better than he ever could. The load he hauled onto his deck made him smile and rub his hands together gleefully.

" This shipment is definitely worth a pretty penny. Now, all I gotta do it sort you out, fish sticks. "

*Slap* "Who you callin' fish sticks, blubber mouth?! "

Sukuna froze. Looking up, he raised his hand to his face and wiped away some water the fish that had been thrown at him left on his cheek. Peering down at the fish now flopping on his deck, he gave the thing a death glare; as if that would give him any answers. He must really be going crazy-

"Up here, blubber-for-brains. "

His eyes snapped up towards the voice. But the air in his lungs escaped as if they were punched out of him. A human(?)'s upper torso was visible at the top of the net. It was leaning against the hook of the machinery and was throwing and catching a fish in its hand.

Sukuna raised a brow, " What the fuck? "

The thing raised one of its brows back, " Nice use of language, Oh Smart One. I thought you humans were supposed to be intelligent. Though, every one of your kind I've encountered uses fowl language, so smarts must just be a myth. "

Sukuna growled at the things snarky commentary, " Oh yeah? And what kind of intelligent creature like you gets stuck in a fishing net, huh? So much for being smart. "

The thing snarled, showing off rust colored stained teeth dyed by no doubt blood as sharp as many of Sukuna's own fileting knives. It held tightly onto the fish in its hand, " Watch your mouth, human, I still got a whole lotta of ammo here, and your face is lookin' like a big ol' target from where I'm sittin'. "

Sukuna rose an unimpressed eyebrow and pulled out a harpoon gun he kept in the captain's quarters, " Mine hurts worse. "

The thing flinched back and hissed at the gun, but slowly set down the poor he probably squeezed to death in his panic. The thing made a whiny sound in the back of its throat, " I didn't choose to get stuck here. I was getting chased by some shark mers. Those nasty ones only know the smell of blood and the next potential meal. I'd choose to be anywhere else right now, trust me. "

Sukuna huffed, " Yeah, sure. " Putting away the gun, Sukuna sighed and looked back up to the sulking thing. Looking closer, he was the slightest shine of scales decorating the cheeks, neck, and forearms of the thing. Its eyes were steely and sunken in, as if it's seen things beyond it's life time.

Sukuna chuckled upon realization, " You're a mermaid, aren't you? "

The mer scoffed, " Merman, thank. But 'mer' is just fine. I still don't get why ya humans always gotta gender code things. Damn, just call us what we are? "

Sukuna chuckled again, " What? Nuisances? "

The mer hissed again, " We wouldn't be if ya humans knew to keep to yerselves. Ain't this section of the coast off limits to fishers like yerself? "

Sukuna shrugged, not giving an answer. The mer scoffed and crossed it's arms over it's chest. Sukuna looked at it up and down, taking in everything he could. He hummed delightfully.

The mer must have caught on, " What'cha lookin at me fer? Think I'm some sorta snack for yer to eat? "

Sukuna shook his head no, " Nah, I was just rememberin how much one of your kind goes to sell on the blackmarket. You gotta be worth something. No rich bastard would give up the opportunity to call a thing like you pet. "

The mer's eyes went thin, but already creamy skin paled considerably, " You wouldn't... "

Sukuna rose a brow, " Oh, and why wouldn't I? I could definitely use the money. "

The thing stayed quiet, before it soon started to shake. Sukuna was about to sneer and comment about it being weak, but paused when a face formed from agony and rage shot up to glare at him. Sukuna had to keep himself from tensing and tried to look as calm as he could be.

The mer growled, " That's all that ya humans are. Selfish and greedy monsters only willing to do something if you get money in return. Do you know how many of our kind is sacrificed, hunted, and killed just so the others can live? Just so you humans can play god and reap what we mer's sew. "

Sukuna gulped, remembering the auction show he was emailed an invite to since he contributed a large amount of fish to the CEO of the company. It was a disgusting show of wealth. How millionaires and billionaires fought over a small little thing that held a resemblance to the one right in front of him.

The mer wasn't done, but tears of grief started to roll down it's eyes, " How many of our guppies, our children, are pulled from our arms to be sold like live stock?! You are no better! "

Sukuna had enough of this tantrum, " Do not bundle me with those people! I'd never harm a child, even if I am considered a monster by other people. I will not allow it to be done by a fish like you! "

The mer shrunk back, breathing irregular and struggling, like a faint wheeze. It swallowed roughly and looked away. Sukuna rumbled, now over flowing with guilt he felt he should not harbor. Looking back up, he became slightly alarmed at the shallow and wheezy breaths the mer was taking.

Mer's need water, his mind supplied. Sukuna growled, and hackles raising when he caught the mer flinching again. Walking away from the net, he went down below deck on got out a giant glass tank he kept in case he needed to keep a fish alive for more profit.

Taking it up the stairs and on to the deck, he set it down on some secure boxes and grabbed a bucket to start filling it with water. He had to make haste though, or the mer would die from drownin? Suffocation? And all of this work would be for waste.

Once the tank was full and covered from the beating ray of the sun, Sukuna walked over to the leaver controlling the hook and rotated it counter clockwise. He watched as the machine lowered the net onto the deck and he let go of the leaver. Once the machine stopped, he stepped up to the net and untied it.

Being this up close and personal to the mer, he watched as the sun made the scales look iridescent. Slipping his arms underneath the torso of the fish being, he pulled it out of the other fish and dragged it towards the tank. The mer roused slightly, trying to fruitlessly push Sukuna away. The bigger man scoffed and dropped the mer into the tank.

The reaction was instant, the mer took a deep breath through the large gills covering it's side and it slumped against the rim of the glass tank. Sukuna watched, looking at the mer's tail that could he classified as art in itself. It was beautiful, though he would never admit it. The thin tarp Sukuna draped over some boxes didn't stop the light from the sun bouncing off the glittering scales.

Sukuna's gaze went back up to the mer's face, startling to see the mer was also looking at him. It's hair fell in it's face, blocking out most of it. It puffed, blowing some of the strands out of it's eyes to get a better look.

Sukuna hated the way his chest constricted at the show. The mer raised a webbed hand, and Sukuna slowly took it and shook it. He made a face when he pulled it back and fake gagged at the slimy feeling left on his skin. The thing laughed at his disgust and shook it's head, getting water everywhere.

It smirked, " The name's _____ _____. What's yours, blubber man? "

Sukuna sneered at the nickname, " That's not my name. It'd Sukuna Ryoumen, nothing else. "

The mer smirked, " Well now I gotta call you that every time I address ya. "

Sukuna growled, " Don't you dare. " The glint in the fish's eyes didn't quell any of the building dread that sat in the bottom of his stomach. He really debated on if he should sell the fish or not.

❃.✮:▹»»——⍟——««◃:✮.❃

[buckybarnesdiaries]

; i'm coming home

© gif credits to the author, i found it on google. if you own it, send me a message with your @.

bucky barnes x reader ⎢ masterlist.

bucky and you met six years ago in romania, but he disappeared. now, he's back.

word count: 1.8k.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

requests are open.

Six years had passed since the last time he was with you, before disappearing overnight. He didn't give you any explanation, he didn't even leave a note. He needed to protect you, but he also knew how stubborn you were and that you wouldn't let him take that decision for both. So Bucky simply left, breaking your heart in one thousand pieces. You wanted to understand his reasons, but you couldn't. He promised you eternal love, a life together, moving out of New York —maybe to a remote place where anyone could recognize him and have peaceful days, without having to be worried about someone coming after him. About someone trying to hurt you.

Since the very first moment you met in Romania, Bucky fell in love with you. Sometimes you still remembered how he started talking to you in Romanian, guessing you were from there until you laughed and replied in English. The next few weeks were like a daydream. Walks, romantic dates, nights of stargazing. Then, you came back to New York and kept in touch by letters, as in the forties or fifties. Until one day. Your friends invited you to a museum and what you discovered there was unbelievable. James, your James, was Captain America's best friend. And he was supposed to be dead.

You wrote to him. You told him you knew it. You told him you didn't care, that you could figure out how to escape from that situation. Together. But he never sent you a letter back. You weren't able to forget him after all that time, still sleeping every night with his red shirt, stupidly fantasizing about the idea of Bucky coming back to you. And your hopes increased when you watched him on TV. The Avengers found him and, even if you tried to contact them somehow to defend your James, you never got it. Nobody believed you, not even when you showed them the letters, not the only picture you conservated of both of you in Bucharest. You prayed to God to help him. You begged God to the world seeing him as you did.

But when Bucky was released on parole, he never tried to look for you. He did know you lived in New York and, with his resources, he'd have known in less than five minutes. One year had passed, and you ended up losing the most minimal hope wrapping your heart. All those things he told you once, were just lies. Lies to inventing a parallel life until you left Romania. Only replying to your letters to have something to lean on for his own good. That's what he demonstrated to you.

bucky's pov

Like every night since he earned part of his freedom, Bucky stared at the windows of your apartment, from the opposite sidewalk hidden behind a tree. Like a ghost. Like he was trained to see but not be seeing. Every night, he wanted to cross the road, call to your door, kiss you, hug you, feel your touch and your love —hold you, and never let you go again. But he knew it was risky, he knew he had to wait for the right time. And it came. Tonight it came. His year of therapy had ended and he was free. Bucky was free to come back home.

He had been watching you since it started, making sure you were safe and sound. He also was aware that you never rebuilt your life with another man, that you tried to find him. That you slept every night with his shirt. Bucky was also aware of all the times you cried for him, that you always walked the same way from your job to your apartment expecting to meet him in some street close to it. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

Taking a deep, deep breath, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his coat, the soldier put a step on the road. The first step to happiness. And then, no one could stop him. He continued to the front door of the building, not needing more than a push to open it. Third floor, fifth door at the right of the corridor. Bucky licked his bottom lip nervously, swallowing as he took a master key from one of his pockets and a small metallic stick to force the lock of your house. He needed to be fast and stealthy, ringing the bell wasn't an option for very obvious reasons. Breaking into the apartment, he closed the door quietly behind his back.

The lights were all turned off a couple of hours ago when you went to sleep, after sitting on the window of your living room waiting for someone who wasn't going to show up, as every night for the last six years. The whole place smelled sweet like you used to. Bucky never forgot your scent, using it as the encouragement he needed to continue fighting for his freedom, for a life together. Now, his heart was racing so quickly that the whole city could hear his beats.

Slowly, he toured the entrance, the living room, the hallway straight to your dorm. The door was half-closed. Not a single noise coming from the inside. Bucky walked towards it, pushing it in slow motion, trying to not wake you up. And if he knew before that could be that easy to watch you sleep —for creepy that it sounded— he would have watched you every night since he landed in New York.

Bucky wasn't sure about what to do. If he should wake you up, if he should let you sleep and come the next day after you finished your work. When he wanted to realize, he was running the nail of his index finger on your soft cheek. Your skin was still warm, which meant you fell asleep crying again. And that broke his heart, his soul. Being conscious of all the pain and the suffering he made you being through all that time was killing him from inside. And he wished he could have handled your relationship in another way. But there wasn't another way without you being collateral damage of his past.

Bucky was about to leave when he suddenly felt a hit to his collarbone, stumbling to the bed. He didn't have time to react when your right leg was beneath his cold arm and pinning down his neck, as your left leg was laced around it. Your hand gripping his wrist, immobilizing him, pointing at him with a loaded gun between your free fingers. Your breathing became erratic, your pulse was beating faster than ever, but you were ready to shoot if the occasion required it.

In the middle of the gloom you glimpsed at those deep oceanic blue eyes you had been craving to look at for years. The same eyes on the picture on your nightstand. It has to be another dream. Another nightmare where Bucky came to tell you that everything was going to be okay. But his touch felt so real that it hurt like a million flames burning down your body to ashes. You were paralyzed. Your brain collapsed. In a very slow motion, James —your James— raised his right hand from the mattress to above his chest, bringing it to the gun aimed at his head. You couldn't stop him. You tried with all your strength. But the commands sent by your neurons never reached the finger supported against the trigger.

His flesh digits made their way to your trembling hand, as the tears started to sprout out from your eyes. Bucky took the weapon, not needing to ask you to release it, to put it away from the two of you.

“It's okay, draga mea, it's me…” He whispered with such an angelical and melodic voice, over your dolorous sobs. “May I, uh… get my arm back?”

Bit by bit, you obeyed as if it was some kind of polite order, loosening the grip around his arm and over his neck. Stepping back till your body collided with the headboard, you curled up your knees to your furious chest rising and falling, hiding your face between the gap of both. Your cry became louder, agonic, painful, ripping your throat.

“No— Not again… Not again, please… I c— can't”. You implored sorely.

Bucky didn't need to be a genius to understand you firmly believed it was just part of another of your dreams. Another of your nightmares. He sat upon your bed, coming closer to you and landing his cold metallic hand on the back of your head, urging you to raise it. You did. You did raise your burning face because of the tears falling, running down your cheeks. Your blurry gaze focused on his pale blue eyes, begging you silently to forgive him.

“I'm here… I'm back”. Bucky murmured, gently touring your skin until reaching a side of your neck, caressing your throat by using his thumb. “This is not a dream, draga mea. This is real”.

His intentions weren't to scare you, speaking to you with such a honeyed tone of voice as he shortened the distance between his body and your legs yet curled. You pouted unconsciously, watching him leaning above your legs to press his lips on the bridge of your nose. Slowly, fondly. Wanting to transmit to you that the flame of his love for you never went out. Resting his forehead against yours, your right hand flew straight to the back of his neck. You had never needed more than you needed him at that precise instant, trying to believe that that wasn't a trick of your subconscious.

“'M so, so sorry… I had to protect you… I had to protect you”. Bucky explained while closing his eyes, lacing his free fingers with yours. “But, uh… I know you still drink black coffee with mocha and a stick of cinnamon every Thursday. I know you… rent a book from the library and sit on the stairs in your free evenings… I know you sleep with this same shirt every night”.

Discovering he had been watching you all this time provoked your lips to shiver, as your cry became lower and your breathing was calmer. He guarded your days, in the shadows, till the right moment. And it came. Tonight was the right moment.

“I'm free. I'm not an enemy anymore… I'm not a target”. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle to hold back his own tears. “I'm so sorry”.

“Will you…? Will you stay now? With me?” At first, you doubted asking, being afraid of his response for a second.

“No one will ever set us apart again. No one”. He promised you, his heart speaking, telling the absolute truth. “Everything I told you in Bucharest; everything was true. And I… I want it”.

Bucky leaned forward enough inches to make disappear the less distance between both of you, pressing his lips in yours, tenderly caressing your jawline with his thumb as his tears met yours in the corner of your lips. Neither of you could believe that you were reunited after all these years, after all the pain, the loneliness. And like James, your James, said so: no one would ever set you apart again.

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[lilacmeadows]

Made For You pt.1

Okay so this is gonna be a series. My FIRST series. So go easy on me pretty please. I’ve never written smut, and I know nobody wants badly written smut. So we’ll see about that. But this one is definitely gonna be more of a slow burn. Maybe 4 chapters? Yeah. I like that. 4 chapters. I’ve just been thinking about this idea for a while and I wanna get into writing. I hope someone likes this.

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3 (coming soon)

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

WORD COUNT: 2k 

PART ONE

She’s so used to quiet in her quaint bedroom. The faint whirring of the air conditioner, sounds of footsteps and machinery being rolled outside her door, the music they would play for her when she was extra good that week.

So when she was awoken to gunshots and yelling, y/n was anxious and didn’t know what to do. She backed into the corner of the room furthest from the door and shut her eyes. Hopefully, if she stayed quiet and unseen, things would resolve itself, and she wouldn’t see any violence come her way.

Luckily for her, after what felt like hours later, the sounds quieted down. The gunshots were less frequent and finally came to a stop. She waited for a few moments before sitting on her bed with intentions of continuing her knitting. She wasn’t allowed many activities, but this was one luxury the Men didn’t mind since she hadn’t had any violent outbursts in a long time. She hated being shocked, and she liked knitting.

But the quiet didn’t last long. Minutes later, she could hear footsteps approaching her room. Too late to go back into her corner without being heard through the ‘doggie door’ the Men used to pass her food twice a day, she sat still and slowed her breathing.

‘Anything on that floor?’ She heard one male voice say from further away.

‘Not yet. Mostly supply closets on this floor, but I’ll check them all.’ Said a voice from much closer. He couldn’t have been more than 10 feet away from her door. She could tell they were American like her because they didn’t have the funny accents the Men all had. Gripping her plastic knitting needles tightly in one hand she braced herself for the intrusion.

Her door cracked open a little, then quickly opened all the way.

“Cap, you need to see this.” The man called over his shoulder. “Are you alright ma’am?”

“Yes. I’m fine, sir.” Her small voice replied, a little rough from lack of use, but still remarkably sweet.

“Who are you? Do you know where you are?” He approached her slowly, taking in her meager appearance, but also watching out for the pointy sticks she has a death grip on.

“My name is y/n. I’m in my room.” She replied. Starting to feel very uneasy by this stranger, but also not thinking that he would hurt him. She had been here for so long, it was strange seeing a tall, black man enter her bedroom. Only trainers and watchers were allowed to enter her bedroom.

“What is it?” Another, taller man asked, but his question was soon answered when his eyes landed on the girl sitting on her bed with her tucked gently under her. He immediately noticed her lack of decent clothing, and it caused a blush to creep up his neck.

“We have a girl here, possibly a hostage, maybe an experiment. She doesn’t look like she particularly wants to be rescued.” The first man said to the other, who’s slowly entering the room while trying not to stare at her thin, flimsy, cotton dress.

“Hi, I’m Steve, this is Sam. Do you know where you’re from?” The blonde man said to her while crouching down to be at her eye level. She nodded her head yes. “Well we’re the good guys. We’re here to save you. Do you want to come with us so we can take you home?”

She had to contemplate for a minute. It had been so long since she got here that she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to leave. These men looked sincere, but she knew if she left and was caught, she’d be punished terribly. But if the gunshots meant anything, there would be nobody to punish her. Which means she can’t stay regardless because there would be nobody to take care of her either.

“Did you kill my watchers?” She looked at the blond man after a few quiet seconds. Steve and Sam made eye contact and had a whole argument in silence before Sam spoke up.

‘Yes, we did. But they were bad men. They were keeping you here. But you’re free now. You just gotta follow us, and we’ll get you out of here.’ Sam said, gently. Not wanting her to think they’re cold blooded murderers, but also trying to rush this meeting along so they can board the quinjet, where the rest of the team was waiting.

Steve held one of his hands out to her, which she hesitantly took- knitting needles and purple ball of yarn in her other hand. She thought about grabbing her sweaters, but they weren’t kept in her room. Quite frankly, she had no idea where they were. The Men didn’t allow her to keep the things she learned to knit in her room. But they would give her back a sweater during the cold months. So she just followed the two men awkwardly. Them taking large, hard steps towards parts of the building she had never seen, and her dainty footsteps lagging behind. The trainers taught her to walk with a ladylike gait, on the balls of her feet with barely any pressure to her heels.

After many hallways and stairwells, they found themselves outside the building. The quinjet was parked close by, and y/n’s eyes almost jumped out of her head. Of course she had never seen anything like that before. The men led her onto the loading area which closed behind them.

“Take a break for sightseeing?” Said one man from the front of the jet. They couldn’t see her because of her small stature behind the two men.

“Actually, we found someone. Her name is y/n. She was in one of the rooms, top floor.” Steve said to the man, while fishing you out from behind his back.

She was met with eyes. Many pairs of eyes. All looking directly at her. Not used to all the attention, she looked down at her feet, which were bare as usual and slightly irritated from walking on various terrains. Her toes painted baby pink. Another luxury the Men allowed her. Some watchers were nicer than others. The shorter, fat one that came every other night would bring her a light, barely noticeable, polish that she was only allowed to put on her toes.

Being there wasn’t so terrible. She was 10 when they took her in 2006. She had a mom and older brother, and they lived in a town in Georgia. She often wonders what happened to them that morning when the Men put a rag over her face, and she woke up on a bed in the room that would become her new bedroom.

She didn’t leave the room often. There was a small bathroom across the hall from her room. The watcher would be standing guard outside her door, and she would let him know she would like to use the bathroom or bathe. He would have to stand in the room with her while she bathed, but after a while, they were kind enough to face the wall. She fought for a long time. Refusing to eat the food (which wasn’t terrible), screaming and crying, she even plotted the occasional failed attack. But then they started the shock therapy, and she learned. Being in that chair was brutal. Rewiring her brain into submission. Submission to the Men so they could train her. She had to be ready for the Soldat when he needed her. Why her? She didn’t ask and they didn’t tell her. She learned very quickly that she was only allowed to speak when spoken to.

Make the Soldat happy. That was her mission. She had been told that phrase so many times that she heard it in her sleep. She had never seen or met him, but she was being trained to be his. A possession he could have control over during the brief times he was unfrozen. She was to listen to him, obey, sleep with him, and just make him happy because the mind controlling words were having less and less of an effect, and the Men were afraid he would lash out and massacre them all.

But it doesn’t seem like she’ll be fulfilling her life goal after all because now she’s in the air with a group of people looking at her like she has two heads. A woman with pretty red hair, a man with a large bow, and a man with nice glasses towards the front of the jet, were on one side. On the other was a blond man with very long hair, standing up to talk to a man in a purple shirt, and a man sitting by himself with long brown hair. All of their stares were pointed at her, but his seemed to go through her. Like he had x-ray vision and could read her mind.

“Y/n, you can have a seat right there.” Sam said, pointing to an empty seat next to the redhead who only squinted at her. “That’s Natasha. She’s nicer than she looks.”

“No, I’m not.” She said, making eye contact with y/n. “But we’re glad to have you aboard.” Natasha finished, the slightest smile forming at the girl.

“Um... Cap, where are her clothes?” The man from before asked Steve.

“I don’t know. This is what she was wearing, and I didn’t see a wardrobe anywhere, Tony.” Steve sighed, obviously exasperated by even the thought of a conversation with Tony.

Tony looked at the girl expectantly. Was he waiting for her to chime in? Because he’d be waiting a long time. She was trained very well. Talking out of turn was one of the first rules she learned.

“Sweetheart, are you alright? Do you want something to cover up? We have blankets. What about water? You thirsty? Does she even understand a word I’m saying?” Tony’s last question was aimed at the men she entered with.

“I understand. I’m sorry. I’m alright, sir.” And if the team was trying to keep their staring inconspicuous at first, they completely abandoned that when she spoke. Her voice was so small and smooth. Just a little weak from not talking much.

“How about we get you a blanket anyway so I can be a little more comfortable” He nodded towards Sam who left the room and returned with a large blanket. She hadn’t realized how cold she was or that her nipples were pointing through her thin dress. Or that the cotton dress was really just a white slip that was damn near see through.

Maybe the grumpy looking man on the other side of the jet does have x-ray vision.

“Thank you, sir.” Everyone had to be called Sir. She hadn’t been around any women, but she was pretty sure if they looked as serious as the one next to her, she’d call them Ma’am.

“Tony is fine.” He smiled at her.

“Hey. I’m Clint, by the way.” The man on Natasha’s other side said, turning his body to address her. “So, umm... What were you doing up there? Are you working for Hydra?” Other members of the team groaned and scolded him for being so blunt, even though they were secretly happy he asked because they also wanted to know.

“I was knitting.” She said simply. She was going to leave it at that, but she could see the way Clint’s eyebrows almost touched his hairline at her short reply. So she continued with the mantra she was raised with. “My purpose is to make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.”

She had never seen a room of people’s heads turn so fast. Eyes darting from her to the brooding man on the other side of the jet. He squinted his eyes, looking equally as confused.

She hadn’t realized that her mission was right in front of her.

part 2

[vintage-marina]

A woman out of time chapter 3

TW: violence, fighting, suicidal thoughts

Wordcount: 2894

Summary: Reader meets James Norrington for the first time

The Black Pearl

The man had his eyes wide open and some spit flew out of his mouth onto your helmet. You furrowed your brows and tried to make as much space between the strange man and you if that was possible, another head came into your field of vision. He was on the top of his head bald but for some reason he still had hair, he was also dirty. "Hmm, she doesn't look like a witch. So I say you're wrong!'' he didn't stared at you anymore but stared at the other man, his face a few centimeters from the other man. ''No Pintel, she is! I swear on my soul'' ''You don't have one, how could you swear on it?'' ''Because I can!''

Around you you heard murmers and sighing in irritation you said: ''Excuse me,'' they were ignoring you and didn't move a muscle while their staring contest was contuining. You lifted your arms and pushed their heads away, the wood underneath you was creaking while you tried to stand up. Around your arm clung a net and you tried to shrug it off. Hearing the sound of metal made you realise that you were in a dangerous situation, you could see men pointing their guns at you or pointing other weapons. You saw what the others were wearing and you felt ridiculous, it was certain that you were not from here or from this timeline. You wished that you could reach for your weapons, but they were safely tucked underneath your timetravel suit. You had two options or you pressed on a button and revealed your normal suit  that may scare those people around you or you keep this suit on and may risk a heat stroke.

A man was staring at you and had his hands in the air. It was like that he was doing this pose alot, when he noticed that you noticed that he was staring he walked right at you. His arms swung at his sides and he kept staring at you and for the dramatic affect he pulled his eyebrows up. What the hell am I even doing here, you thought to yourself. A meter from you he stopped and he pulled his face toward you and knocked on your helmet. ''Strange thing, don't ya think?'' ''Thanks'' ''No problem lass, what's yer name?'' ''Why do you want to know?'' ''What do ya say?'' You pushed on a button that revealed your face and said it again, his eyes widened in shock but recovered quickly, around you you could hear gasps ''Well can't a gentlemen know the name of a beautiful woman like you hmm? Especially from a beaut like you that fel from the sky, I could almost swore that ye're an angel'' ''It's nurse Y/L/N'' the man with eyeliner smirked and said: ''Yer given name nurse Y/L/N'' ''Y/N, yours?'' ''Captain Jack Sparrow ma'am.'' The first thing that you noticed is that he looked familiar, you squinted your eyes lightly and said to him: ''Do I know you from somewhere?'' ''Well lass if that was the case then I wouldn't ask from yer name, wouldn't I?'' He had a point, the second thing that you noticed is that he had a compass in his hand. You hummed in agreement, while you looked around you saw that the other men (probably the crew from the man that was facing you) were whispering to eachother and looking frightened but still pointing their guns and weapons. In the crowd you spotted a few women, they also pointed their guns at you but the anxious pit in your stomach was lessening while you saw them.

You turned your focus to his crew and said ''Look I'm not here to hurt you and I hope you are not going to hurt me. It was an accident that I landed here and it was not on purpose, I know that you guys have a lot of questions right now and I will answer it if you guarentee that I'm safe here and can stay. Because I have nowhere else to go.'' the man who you learned his name was Jack shrugged his head and said: ''Fair enough, welcome on the Black Pearl lass'' while he said this you heard his crew protesting. What have I done to myself? ''Now if you will, come with me.''

An older man with a beard walked towards Jack and mumbled: ''Jack I know I shouldn't  question you, but I don't think it's a good idea to welcome her on this ship'' You rested your hands on your hips and said: ''You know I can hear you right?'' He ignored you. ''Well that's why I'm in charge isn't it'' and he gave a smile towards the old man. ''Alright then name's Joshamee Gibbs and yours?'' and he held his hand out for you to shake it, you shaked his hand and gave a tight lipped smile ''Y/N Y/L/N.'' ''Now if you don't mind I'm interested in your story so follow me''

You were walking towards his cabin, you admitted his ship was beautiful. He gestured that you could sit down, so you did. You layed your hands in your lap and you asked yourself if you should start or should wait. ''Rum?'' he offered you, ''yes, thank you.'' He gave you a glass of rum and you put it on the table. He sat on the other couch facing you again and you saw that he was bursting from curiosity. ''So, should I start?'' Jack nodded and you continued: ''Alright then, I really don't know where to begin. But what I'm saying should be kept a secret forever and if I know that it's made publicy I'm seriously pissed, you anderstand me?'' ''Aye, me and our crew will keep it a secret,'' ''good.'' ''Alright now I'm starting,'' you took a deep breath and began. ''The world where I came from is in shambles. You probably won 't believe it but an evil creature wiped out half of our population on earth, because it wasn't in 'balance' according to him.'' ''Hold up, an evil creature what do you mean by that? And what do you mean by wiped out half of the population, who could do that?'' ''An alien, extraterrestrials or someone who isn't born on Earth it self. We never thought that anyone could do this, until Thanos came along.'' he choked on his drink and said: ''What the hell mate, ye're saying that those things excist! I never heard of the word alien.'' he mumbeled the last sentence. ''Truth to be told, I didn't believe it either. Until I saw those things, they were disgusting and that man, he was the scariest of them all. I don't even know why I am telling you this, you probably would stab me in the back with this story.'' ''Eh.. probably, but for now not. Ye're telling this because if you didn 't you would look crazy and we would kick you out of our ship and we don't care where, so that's why. But ye're secret is safe with us, if that is what ye're worrying about lass. Now go on with your story, I want to know what happend next.'' You took your glass of rum and sipped it a bit, it was strong but even the strongest liquor in the world couldn't make you drunk and so you explained why you were here.

''So ye're saying that ye 're from the future,  precisely 2023.'' ''Yes that's what I'm trying to tell you,'' ''and you wanted to go to 2012 because..'' ''Because for bringing the people back who were snapped away we needed the Infinity Stones.'' Jack nodded with his head, trying to understand it. ''Whoa, the only thing I can say is whoa'' ''Yeah, I know it's a lot to take in,'' he pointed with a finger and said: ''And you need an Infinity Stone but you can't switch timelines because you have one Pym Particle right? So, you have to search for this 'Infinity Stone' in this time, am I right lass?'' ''Yes you 're completely right, Jack.'' ''It's captain for you lass if you don't want to be kicked out of my crew.''  You let out a laugh and said: ''Alright captain.'' ''I still can't believe ye're from 2023, ya know how many years from now that is?''

Captain Jack Sparrow showed you the way to the womens barracks because although he was a pirate, women did deserve privacy. His arm slung over your shoulder and he said: ''Wait here will ya? I'm going to tell my crew what's goin' on. You will sleep here with the others by the way.''

The following days the crew was becoming less and less suspicious of you but the questions didn't ceaze. They were asking why you were here, how you were here, why the hell you didn't return to your time, who's you engaged to, why you always looked tired and questions about your past that you wern't comfortable with answering. You were sewing torn up clothing while you peered into the horizon, the weather was cold, misty and the night slowly climbed up at the horizon. A shiver ran through your spine. Luckily you wore you leather suit but the other's couldn't say the same. Your thread fel out of your needle and you cursed lightly, your cloved hands picked up the thread and you shut one eye close to focus better on the tiny hole of the needle itself, the first, second and third attempt you failed but the fourth attempt did you succeed.

Then you saw something at out the corner of your eyes, you put your needlework down and peered into the horizon again. You squinted your eyes and you could've swore you saw something moving in the mist. You looked around for a few seconds and you saw that nobody saw what you saw, what didn't strange was. You looked again and then you saw the outline of a ship, right sailing to you. You shouted to signal that what you saw and everyone stopped what they were doing and took their weapons.  They peered into the horizon and a few seconds later they saw it too, ''the damned Navy found us!'' ''Load the cannons!'' ''Stop firing until there is nothin' left of it!'' those three things you could hear before a cannon was fired. You fastened your medpack and took one of your guns of your belt and grapped it for dear life.

The ship of the Navy became parrallel to Jack's ship and the cannon hit the front deck, splinters flew in all dicrections and you saw a few men were blown away by the force. People from both sides were screaming, you felt a rush of wind behind you and at the cornes of your eyes you saw a rope bouncing back to the Navy. You whipped around and where met with the barrel of his pistol, ''surrender pirate and we would not hurt you.'' ''I'm not a pirate,'' you grunted while you took a few steps backwards. In a matter of seconds he could blow your brain out of your skull and actually you did not want that. If he pointed his pistol on another day, a day where your mental health was on it's shittiest, maybe you would welcome it but now? Now, there was a chance to see your best friend again you didn't want to welcome death. You clicked your gun to your belt and yanked his pistol towards you but he didn't let go. He let out a soft grunt and you slapped with your vibranium hand the gun out of his and kicked it away from him. Now he was defenseless and that was the position that you wanted him to be in. Your face was stoic and you clenched your fist and let it hover at your face to create a defence, he followed your step and let out a laugh to mock you. ''What's so funny hm?'' you grunted at him, ''I just can not believe that I am fighting against a woman, should you not work in the kitchen, instead of trying to fight against us, the Navy?'' The glare you gave him hardened and you spat out: ''Stupid man-thing.'' He didn't react well on your insult and lunched towards your jaw, you crouched down to dodge the hit and gave from underneath an uppercut to his instead. His body flew from the force on the deck and he was flat out cold, you picked up his pistol and tossed it towards your crew. You stepped over his body and kicked his ribs for a good measure. You took your gun again from your waistband and shot a few men down from your left. The cannons from both sides didn't stop with shooting and a ring was forming into your brain. You tightly shutted your eyes for a second and rubbed your hand on your forehead in the hope of silencing the ringing noise.

You looked to your right, onto the waters of the sea and onto the ship of the Navy. You saw a few of your crew on it and you were worried that they would be in minority. You ran towards a rope while you were dodging bullets and red coats to your left and right. With your vibranium arm you grabbed the rope tight and gave it a tug.  Firstly you took a few steps backwards and then you ran towards the railing of the Black Pearl. A few Navy man were running at you while some of your crew were running behind them, you shot one in the knee and the other in the shoulder.  You sprung on the railing and you lifted yourself up higher in the rope itself. You were flying into the dark blue sky that was freckled with stars. It honestly reminded you of the time that you went into space and the next thing you knew you sprung onto the deck of the Navy. You rolled over to not injure yourself and stood right up. You ran to the group of men who were surroundering the people you were familiar with, from backwards you grapped a full hand of white hair and yanked a  body to the back and gave an punch to the temple of another man. An opening was created and there you saw Will, Elizabeth and Jack. The Navy men looked surprised that you were here after not hearing you, especially from a certain man. You stood next to Elizabeth and she said: ''How are you not out of breath?'' ''That's not true, I'm a bit out of breath but not so much.''

The fourth of you made a little circle and were shuffeling around, the medpack on your back never felt so heavy on your back. ''You are surrounded Jack give up!'' the man said who gave you a surprised look a few seconds ago, ''you know that man Elizabeth?'' you murmered to her while you pointed your gun at someone's head while they did the same to you. ''Yes, I know him, a little to well..'' she murmered back, a silence fell between you two while you could hear Jack say with a small grin: ''It's actually Captain Jack Sparrow, commodore.'' '' His name is James Norrington and he was my fiancé,'' ''he was your what?'' You were surprised by that information. ''James is not a bad man you know? He is just not Will.''

At this point you saw more men making their way home to their ship again, bloodied but with will power. ''Guys, you have to leave in a few minutes. More and more men are returning to their ships and it will be not longer safe!'' you shouted above the cannon firing. ''What do you mean, you're not staying here alone Y/N!'' you could hear Will scream at you, ''I will manage it, go! A few meters behind you Jack and Will there are a few ropes, use them and return to the Black Pearl!'' You could hear Will and Elizabeth protesting and even you could hear Jack saying that it would be stupid. ''For Gods sake, you're pirates! Are you not suppose to safe your own life? Go! Just go!'' You shot four men into their legs and pushed Will, Elizabeth and Jack towards their opening. The Navy men sprung into action and tried to capture them while they also tried to kill you. Here and there you knocked a few man out but mostly you maked sure that Will, Elizabeth and Jack were in safety. Elizabeth turned her head and shouted almost incoherently: ''We will rescue you Y/N, don't be worried!''

A barrel of a gun was facing you again and you knew that you were outnumbered. The man who was named James Norrington said: ''Surrender now pirate, you are outnumbered, drop your weapons and put your hands before you.'' You carefully laid your guns, your taser and a few knifes on the ground. The man looked strange at them but said nothing of it, he only kicked them carefully away. ''I'm not a pirate,'' you said to him. ''That's what they all say ma'am. Please put your hands before you.'' You did exactly what he said.

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 4

A/N  Some strong reactions to the last chapter, which I admit caught me by surprise.   Writing is a funny craft, where you spend a lot of time and effort trying to show your reader exactly the picture you have in your mind, but then also have to surrender to each reader’s interpretation of what you wrote.  That said, some interpretations miss the mark entirely, and for that reason this chapter is entitled “False Assumptions”.   Trigger warning for childhood disease.

Jamie’s weekly appointments continued through the grey slumber of late April and into the wakening month of May.  Thursday became Claire’s favourite day of the week, for reasons she didn’t care to scrutinize too closely.

With regularity came a certain brand of predictability.  Their appointments took one of two forms, she realized.  Some days Jamie was full of life, witty and exasperating by turns.  He would spin long yarns about some trivial aspect of his life, fascinating tales that turned out to be nothing more than surface reflections, revealing little of the murky depths beneath.  He was also adept at using his considerable verbal charm to draw her into divulging more about herself than she ought.  Those visits left her equally frustrated and challenged.

The rest of the time her patient arrived with a weary slump, the thousand watt bulb of his personality dimmed to an occasional flicker.  Given his offhand comment about whisky and women, she tried not to ponder if he was hungover or suffering from the effects of an all-night hook-up.  From a diagnostic point of view these days of low ebb were beneficial because Jamie was far more likely to offer some nugget of inner revelation, truth sneaking out through the cracks of his weakened defences.

“I was away on business, in Hong Kong, when my Da passed,” he said on one such afternoon, the skin below his eyes drawn tight and the copper in his hair somehow muted.

“Did it happen suddenly?” 

“No’ really.  Jen had been at me fer months tae come hame, sayin’ that Da was workin’ himself tae death.”   Jamie looked out the window, eyes reflecting the overcast skies beyond.  “I ignored her.  Too wrapped up in my own grand self tae pay any heed.  Twas Ian, my brother-in-law, who called tae say Da had dropped in the pasture.  Massive coronary.  I caught the first flight back, but he was gone before I landed.”

She watched Jamie’s face closely as he spoke, but beyond the understandable emotion of reliving the sudden loss of a parent, he remained inscrutable.  The urge to draw him out overcame the deference she paid to Jamie’s well-defined boundaries.

“Do you think you’re to blame for his death?” she asked, half-expecting to be met with silence or a nimble deflection.

Jamie shook his head ruefully.

“Nah.  I dinna think I’m tae blame.  I ken it.  I was the only surviving son, ye see?  In the Highlands, tradition is everything, an’ a Fraser man had worked those lands fer generations.  I was only meant tae complete my studies abroad, an’ then return tae Lallybroch and take o’er from Da.  Instead, I left my sister an’ Ian tae watch o’er the farm while I played the business tycoon.”

“Is Lallybroch still in your family?” she wondered aloud, the name rolling about in her mouth like marbles.  

“Jenny and Ian couldna keep it.  I wasna well enough tae object, an’ they sold tae a developer.  It’s some kind of corporate wellness retreat now,” he finished with a distasteful grimace.

For every disclosure Jamie made, two more questions arose in its wake, like hacking away at a many-headed Hydra.  She wished she could delve further, but the chime from her computer announced the end of the session.

“Will I see you next week, Jamie?” she asked as he reluctantly rose to leave.

“Aye,” said with a sad smile.  “I’ll be here.”

***

The following Tuesday, Claire took the afternoon off work to perform an errand she’d long been avoiding.

Her departure from the Royal Hospital for Children had been so precipitous, she hadn’t filed the necessary paperwork to close her employment file.  The Human Resources department had been pestering her to complete the process for months.  The threat of holding up the transfer of her accreditation finally forced her hand.

To her great relief, the personnel offices were nowhere near the actual wards.  They lay at the end of a long white hallway broken by large windows looking into a series of meeting and activity rooms.  Her plan was to get in, sign the damn forms, and leave without running into any former colleagues or patients.   

The sun slanting into one of these sparsely furnished rooms glanced off the top of a bent head, causing it to glow like a freshly minted penny.  She stopped and stared, trying to reconcile the image of James Fraser seated in a too-small plastic chair, surrounded by a group of hospital-gowned children.

He must have caught sight of her while she stood gaping.  Running to the door before she could find the motor function to turn around, he called out joyfully from behind a blue hospital mask.

“Doctor Beauchamp!  Fancy meeting ye here.”

She mumbled something incoherent, damning herself for the blush she felt enveloping her cheeks.   Behind Jamie, a row of dewy eyes watched on.   She recognized the paper-thin skin and missing hair of chemotherapy patients, and a salty knot rose in her throat.

“Can ye spare a few minutes? Ye’re jes the pair of steady hands we need.”

She longed to decline, to disappear, to come up with a plausible excuse why she couldn’t enter that room.  Her heart thumped angrily in her chest, warning of its fragile state.

Seeing her conflict, Jamie extended a welcoming hand.

“Come, Sassenach.  The lassies would love tae meet ye.”

The space smelled of sterile laundry and sawdust.  With a habit borne of years of practice, Claire disinfected her hands in the small utility sink and donned a spare mask from the nearby dispenser, all while wondering what the hell she was doing.

The children were seated on colourful chairs arranged around a low table, its surface covered in pieces of pre-cut lumber, colourful pots of paint, a glue gun and all manner of cheap decorations such as you would find at a craft store.  The little girls ranged in age from pre-school to young teen, but they all looked at Jamie as though he’d hung the moon as he addressed them.

“Ladies, I’d like ye tae meet Doctor Beauchamp.  She’s a braw doctor but I bet she kens next tae nothing about woodwork.  Ye’ll have tae show her how it’s done.”

A chorus of nervous giggles was the only response.  Claire knew from experience that being a medical professional wasn’t going to endear her to children who spent much of their lives being essentially tortured in the name of science, hoping for some kind of miracle.

“Hello, everyone,” she waved meekly.  “You can call me Miss Claire, if you like.  Now, whatever are you doing with all this wood?”

It turned out that Jamie was supervising the construction of a half-dozen birdhouses.  He had pre-cut the lumber for easy assembly, but was assisting each girl to create a custom masterpiece that would hang outside her hospital window.  With the patience and steady manner of a primary school teacher, Jamie led the group through each step.  

A waifish girl of perhaps six sat directly to Claire’s left, her bare scalp covered by a brightly coloured bandana, offset by a huge pair of peacock-blue eyes that glimmered above her mask.  Eyes that were the mirror of the ones that visited her office every Thursday.  Something heavy settled inside her ribs.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” she asked in a low voice as she pushed an open pot of sky blue paint away from the table’s edge.  Small hands busied themselves pulling apart a package of cotton balls that looked suspiciously like the ones kept in the hospital’s supply cabinet.

“Margaret Murray, Doctor, errr, Miss Claire,” came the timid reply.  

Not Fraser, then.  But that didn’t necessarily mean anything.  She snuck a glance across the table at Jamie, who was just then teasing the youngest girl by tickling her cheeks with a fake feather.  Despite her heavy thoughts, she couldn’t help but smile.  That smile faltered when she noticed that the inside of Jamie’s elbows bore a matching set of fresh bandages.   A series of puzzle pieces tumbled into place.

Perhaps sensing the weight of her scrutiny, Jamie looked their way, whistling in admiration when he saw Maggie’s near-complete birdhouse.

“Tis a fine hame ye’ve built fer yer wee birds, Maggie.  What is all yon white fluff for?”

“Tis clouds, Uncle Jamie,” Maggie replied with the certainty of childhood.  “I dinna want the birdies tae miss the sky, even when they arenna flyin’.”

Claire watched the words hit him as surely as though they had been bullets.  A frozen gasp, a shudder that travelled the length of his body and the crest of tears that he tried valiantly to blink away.

“Aye, ye’re right, a nighean.  Any bird would be fair honoured tae sleep in yer skyhouse,” he managed to reply, voice bouldery with contained emotion.

When each birdhouse was complete and left along the window ledge to dry, Jamie set his small crew of helpers the task of clearing up the mess.   Claire stood next to him as he loaded his tools back into a small carrying case.

“Thanks for inviting me to join you, Jamie.  It was... well, it was unexpectedly wonderful,” she admitted.

“Ye’re most welcome, Doctor Beauchamp.  We couldna have managed wi’out yer steady hand manning the glue gun,” he teased.

“You’re not my patient here, Jamie.  You don’t need to use my title,” she said, a bit vexed by his formality.

“Aye, but it doesna feel right tae call ye by yer given name either.  An’ Miss Claire is jes weird.”

She had to acknowledge that he had a point.

“What was it you called me earlier?  Sassa-something?”

“Sassenach.  My Da woulda skelped my hide if he heard me call a lady by that name,” he said ruefully.

“Why, does it mean something terribly offensive?”  She was almost afraid to know, having enjoyed the delusion that Jamie felt as fondly towards her as she did towards him.

“Nah, tis jes an old-fashioned word for an English person in Scotland.  Seemed tae suit ye, is all.”  He shrugged, seemingly embarrassed by the explanation.

“Well then, Sassenach it is.  When I’m not on the clock, that is.”

Jamie’s eyes danced above his mask the way they did when he smiled, and she imagined hers replied in much the same way.  A long moment passed when nothing was said, neither of them looking away.

“You’re her platelet donor,” she said at last.  “Maggie’s, I mean.”

“Aye.  Every week while she’s in hospital for chemotherapy.  Tis the least I can do.”

It was an explanation that fit all the facts, but one that she never would have guessed.  Jamie had always worn long sleeves to his appointments, but she was certain the weeks when he was haggard and worn out coincided with the times he was donating the litres of blood necessary to distill into the platelet concentrate that would then be injected into Maggie’s body, helping her combat the poisonous effects of her chemotherapy.

“Whisky, women and song?” she prodded, relieved and yet frustrated that his offhand comment had kept her from seeing the truth.  “Why didn’t you just tell me, Jamie?”

“I didna want yer pity, Sassenach.  Fer once in my life, tis no’ about me, ye ken?  I didna want ye lookin’ at me like I was some kind of hero.”

She held back her reaction that his was a textbook definition of heroism, and instead asked the next obvious question.

“Are you a compatible bone marrow donor as well?”

Jamie shook his head slowly.  Although he was a close match, he explained, it wasn’t close enough.   Maggie’s older brother, Wee Jamie, was a perfect match but the law prohibited him from becoming a donor until he was at least sixteen, in seven long years.

“We’re jes tryin’ tae buy her enough time,” he said sadly before stepping out of the room, explaining he’d be back momentarily.

Claire stood in a daze, running through everything she’d assumed about Jamie in light of these newest facts.  A light tug on her hand drew her back into the moment.  Maggie was looking up at her with wide, trusting eyes.

“Are ye the Sassenach lady Uncle Jamie and my Mam argue about?”

“I suppose I might be,” she replied, curious what had been said between the siblings that Maggie had overheard.

“Are ye a heart doctor?” Maggie continued.

“Well, no.  Not exactly.  I’m the kind of doctor who helps people who are sad, and I try to find a way for them to be happy again.”  It sounded so easy when explaining it to a six year old.

“Sometimes Mam and Da talk about Uncle Jamie when they dinna ken I’m listenin’.  I’m verra good at sneakin’,” Maggie confided, and Claire couldn’t help but smile.  What a precious child.    “I’m sure you are,” she replied warmly, a hand coming to rest gently on the tiny cloth-covered head.

“Mam says Uncle Jamie is more stubborn than a mule and that he canna see past his own big heid,” Maggie continued.  Claire couldn’t say that she disagreed with that assessment.

“But Da says Uncle Jamie’s heart has been broken too many times, and thas’ why he’s given up on living.  Can ye fix his heart, Miss Claire, so that it isna broken any more?”

She couldn’t have stopped her tears if she tried.   She knelt on the floor and gathered Maggie’s thin, fragile body in her arms.

“Oh, Maggie.  I’m certainly going to try.”

[doopy-n-loopy]

YOU BEST BELIEVE IM BACK AFTER THAT AMAZING WRITING!

I need me some yandere pyro. I need yandere pyro in my life

We all need some yandere pyro in our lives 😔 This time I'm gonna do a short story since I felt like it

Yan!Pyro × reader

"Unexpected savior"

// Violence, blood, gore, meanie head spy

I tried to make this gender neutral so anyone can enjoy this

French laughter peirced your ears as you choked back scared and pained sobs. Your throat had became dry and scratchy after so much yelling. Your legs were weak and tired, ready to give out at any point.

You felt pathetic. Being backed into a corner by your rival, Spy was the most ego-wrecking thing to happen to you. You hid behind a couple of crates in the dark warehouse where the battle took place. Your team mates are too busy capturing point B to notice that you were gone. Leaving you all alone to fend yourself against the sadistic french man.

You kept looking over the crates you leaned against, squinting into the darkness to see. You popped open your portable ammo pack and pulled out your sniper rifle to reload. Knowing that the clanks of the metal would echo against the walls, you sought to quickly load your gun and find that damned spy to put a bullet in his head. Ignoring the intense pain your cut shoulder was in, you put a new magazine in and hugged the rife against you as your chest heaved.

Quickly jumping out of hiding with your gun up, ready to shoot, you peered around to find your enemy. Only to be met with silence. The dust inside the warehouse swirled in the air tickling your nose to tempt you to sneeze, but you held back. Knowing that he would take any chance he has to dominate you.

Before you could blink, your rifle was knocked out of your hands and you were pinned down onto your chest with a knife up to the back of your throat. Your eyes slammed shut as your uv protection glasses were shattered by the impact on the dirty concrete floor. You heard soft chuckling from above you and slowly opened your eyes.

The spy was on top of you with a smug look that boiled your blood plastered onto his face. He leaned down to your hear and whispered

"aww come on, you should give me a smile. I took my time coming all the way over here just to see you"

His smooth voice rang through your ears, it felt like a million tiny needles stabbed your eardrums all at once. You hated this man.

Awhile back, before he had taken an interest in seeing you suffer, you were dominating the hell out of him on the battlefield. Every time you noticed an odd glimmer in the air, you shot, killing him instantly. Every time you saw steam arise from someone, you shot. You had an eye for the man and seemed to know where he was every time. It irritated him, but intrigued him too. But this time, you were in the mouse trap. This time you were the one being dominated. It all happened to fast, one moment you stopped to reload and the next you were running while bleeding out.

You gritted your teeth, you could see the satisfied expression in his eyes as you were finally beneath him for once.

"fuck....you"

You groaned out in pain. Spy scoffed

"mon cherè, I haven't even taken you out to dinner"

He mocked, the sharp blade that he held ran across the nape of your neck leaving a trail of blood as it sliced open your skin. You held back a pained moan, gritting your teeth.

"oh it hurts when I do that, doesn't it?!"

He sneered, letting out a manical laugh

"The only thing you'll be eating tonight... Is this knife!"

He yelled, lifting his arm up, raising his blade so he can thrust down and strike at your neck. This was it, you were gonna die. You closed your eyes to make it easier on youself.

Except nothing came, you heard him scream as the weight of his body was lifted off of you. You could also hear heavy breathing, as if it was through a mask above you. You slowly opened your eyes to be greeted by the energetic pyromaniac, who slammed the enemy spy against the wall. You lifted yourself off the ground into a sitting position and watched as pyro tore the spy from limb to limb, his shrieks filling the empty space in the warehouse. The way pyro moved told you that they were obviously upset, and chose to take it out on the poor Spy.

Blood and guts were flying as pyro ripped them apart, soon spy became quiet and limp. But Pyro wasn't done. They took out their flamethrower and with a final blow, they lit the spy on fire. The orange glow reflecting off the walls and Pyro's blood soaked uniform. You even caught a glimpse of Pyro's squinted eye through the mask. Paralyzed with fear, you sat there with your mouth wide open in shock.

The ashes of the enemy fell to the floor like leaves on a windy fall day. Pyro then turned their head to you, causing you to suck your breath in due to fear. They slowly approached you, their heavy breathing becoming more audible with each step until they bent down and their face was inches away from yours. You could now see Pyro's eyes somewhat again, and you saw how their pupils dialated upon being this close to you.

Pyro brushed their hand against your cheek, before they decided to speak.

"Mphmph?"

Pyro mumbled, pointing to your slashed open shoulder. You broke eye contact to peer down at your damaged shoulder.

"Oh yeah ahaha, I'll go see medic for that"

You said nervously, unsure of why Pyro was acting this way. Pyro gave a satisfied grunt. When you were getting up, Pyro pulled you into a deep, affectionate hug. As if to say "I'm glad you're okay"

Time seemed to slow in their warm embrace, you forgot how touch starved you've been since you've joined Mann.co. Melting into their hug, you wrapped your arms around them and whispered into their ear.

"Thank you"

This was fun to write, and as always, you can pop into my asks to request more!💕

[shiversdownyerspine]

12. Touch

Miss me? :D

18+

Cheeks still burning from the prior antics of the Swedish men in your living room, you toss your leggings and underwear haphazardly to your laundry basket as you hear Otto enter their guestroom to change.  Normally you would have had the presence of mind to hold on to your perfectly fine leg wear, but you're a bit distracted with the lingering sensation of skin against skin and have gone into auto pilot.

Shiver curling down your spine at the memory of their teasing, you try to focus on the soft patter of rain against your bedroom window as you pace to your dresser for a change of clothes. To no avail, the rain isn't enough to keep you distracted.

Axel and Oscar had gotten you good, and just when you thought Otto had offered you respite from his roguish siblings, the biggest of the brothers had snuck in a cheeky kiss!

Well...a kiss on the cheek, to be precise.

Grabbing up replacement leggings and underwear, you refuse to let your mind sink into the concept of kisses. Because if you did, you would start thinking about lip to lip kisses instead. And your poor heart has just managed to settle its rapid pace, you don't need any more stimulation.

Clothing donned and dress smoothed, you breathe in, hold it, and breathe out. It doesn't eradicate the jittery butterflies as you had hoped it would, but it does help soothe them somewhat. Looking to your bathroom, you tiptoe to the door and quietly peek inside.

Looks like Thing 1 and 2 could care less about storms; curled up together inside the sink, the two appear to be enjoying a nap. Even with a soft lingering rumble of thunder, they are still. Not a twitch of the ear or tail to be seen. Hm. Might as well let them snooze. If the storm gets heavy, you'll check on them again.

Trusting that the kittens are house broken, you leave the bathroom door open a crack as a nice surprise for them and grab up the towel before heading out of your room. You'll have to remind yourself to do a load of laundry tonight. As you wander over to the washer to deposit the towel, your ears pick up the sound of the brothers softly conversing in Swedish. The squeak of the washing machine door seems to interrupt the conversation, and as you pop the door closed and wander back out to the living room, you find the brothers looking quite expectantly at you from the sofa.

Or at least Axel and Otto are on the sofa, Oscar had gotten up to give Butternut some attention. Still barechested, he cocks his head inquisitively at you.

"Kattungar...kittens good?"

"Mhm, they're napping. They don't really seem bothered by the storm so I'll leave them be for now."

Oscar nods, satisfied as he scratches a furry chin before lifting the fluffball up to deposit her on the armchair next to the sofa. Content on her throne, the cat purrs away as Oscar kneels in front of her to give extra scritches.

Armchair occupied, you sit in the only available spot on the sofa, settling comfortably on the end next to Axel. It would seem that when Otto had changed he had also grabbed his brothers some upper clothing, but the youngest had decided to use his as a makeshift cushion for Butternut's throne.

Clearing your throat, you pick up where you left off, "Sooo...yes, I have a 2nd Phase. And I'm not going to answer any questions about it, as the original intent was to stick to questions about my 1st Phase."

Hoping to get back on track, you watch as Oscar leaves Butternut to her oh so comfy chair and settles down next to you on the floor with his back against the sofa. He cranes his head a bit to watch you, face scrunched in thought. Mind made up, he raises his chin in defiance and says a single word.

"One."

You stiffen, looking down at a stubbornly focused Oscar. One, is it? Of course there is no doubt to what he is referring to; he wants a question, a single question about your 2nd Phase.

Arms folded, thoughts ebb and flow as you consider his request. How much would this effect you? Effect them? Would they even ask something you could answer? Regardless of the question they decide on, this is quite the heavy topic for you.

But they are now aware that you can be dangerous, and it's just one question after all.

Feeling their eyes on you, waiting patiently, your gaze drifts to your knees with a sigh.

"Just. One," You acquiesce, softening as the words slip from your lips.

Oscar perks up with eager surprise, prompting you to warn, "But keep in mind, I might not even be able to answer. My 2nd Phase is...complicated in a way. There's not much I can say because I don't know much about it."

Feeling Axel's eyes burning into you with arguably the most intensity, you peer to the side to address something that had been lingering on the edge of your mind since you woke in Otto's arms, "And could I ask for something in return?"

You take the curious tilt of the man's head as a good sign that he'd at least hear you out, which he confirms, "Yes. But it depends."

A bit bashful, you murmur, "Fair enough, it is sort of an odd request. Would you like to ask your question first?"

Axel throws a pointed stare to Oscar, a clear warning that he had better not try to steal this question as he had done previously. The youngest just relaxes comfortably back against the sofa, content to leave the rest up to his older siblings. In the meantime, he curiously eyes your leggings...something is odd...

Otto watches the eldest, knowing he was carefully considering options. If he had to guess, Axel was most likely trying to figure out what question would lead to giving them the most information. The oldest would have to compromise, seeing as how you had given them a limit. The mystery is tempting to linger on, but honestly Otto is more curious about just what you want to ask of them, what you could possibly want that the three could give.

Finally Axel decides upon the question, it's deceptive in its simplicity.

"What are differences between 1st Phase and 2nd?"

You relax, appreciative that this won't pry too much into your history nor ask that you go into detail about a certain something that the higher ups would rather you not mention.

"Really you can think of my 2nd Phase as being the natural progression of my 1st. If my 1st Phase is for when I'm hurt, then my 2nd Phase is for when I'm dying."

Fidgeting, your hands lightly clasp together as you continue, "I have more feathers, not just the.. fluffy down, but semiplume and contour feathers. More scales, but bigger. Much, much longer claws with a slight curve, and enhanced regeneration and senses. That's about it, I think."

There is further detail you could go into about the...visceral nature of your healing in that state, but you'd rather not. Not right now, but maybe another time. The brothers give a silent pause, one of acceptance, you hope, and then ask when you first discovered your ability.

Your hand drifts to the back of your neck, "Well, I discovered the feathers on my nape first. Very strange, almost panicked and tried to rip them out but eventually I just...got used to them. Surprisingly quickly. Kept them hidden as much as possible, so I would never let our caretaker cut my hair, no ponytails or buns or braids or anything. She was not pleased with me being a 'wild child' and 'rebelling'."

You grin, "One time, she had had enough and announced that next morning she would be cutting my hair short, right to my ears. And that there was no way I was getting out of it and I'd get no supper until it was done."

Otto questions, "Did she..?"

"Oh no, I um...that night after everyone went to bed, I crept out and hid every pair of scissors I could find. Even the pair in her office, had to sneak in through the window for that one. I was pretty thorough, come morning she couldn't find any, and by dinnertime she had given up. She couldn't prove it was me, but she gave me the stink eye for weeks."

Oscar sighs dramatically, "No dinner."

"Ah see, she tried to stick to her guns, but she was a big softie; came knocking on my door with a plate for me, but said, 'Only proper ladies get to eat with everyone, you will be eating alone to think about what you've done.' I should have just kept quiet but...I asked her what exactly I had done, and her face went so red! Didn't say a word and just walked right out, mumbling to herself the whole time."

Shaking your head with a soft smile, you murmur, "I caused that woman so much grief. Never really meant to...not usually."

Axel gets you back on track with an amused hum, "First Phase?"

"Well...I liked to climb trees when I was young. Quite a lot. But one day after a heavy storm...I think I was ten?...I slipped and landed badly, right on top of my wrist. I heard it crack and then suddenly...there it was. I noticed the changes and hurled myself into the forest as fast as I could before anyone could see me. Sat under a tree for a couple of hours, trying to figure out what happened. Then I realized that my arm was feeling better until eventually it didn't hurt at all. The changes went away soon after."

Everything had been so chaotic back then, nothing made sense anymore. The world had been turned on its head. And you had suddenly been given new rules to play by in hopes of keeping a secret you hadn't really known how to keep at the time.

"I stayed in the woods a while longer, not really sure what to do, worried it would come back. I was getting hungry and it was getting dark and cold, so that helped me make up my mind. I went back and...adapted. I couldn't let anyone see that side of me. People who are different aren't treated all that kindly. And I'm as different as they come, to say the least."

Otto frowns, expression lightly sullen before he points out the inevitable, "But you were found."

You hesitate a moment before relenting, "Mhm. When I was twelve years old a man broke the rules and faced the consequences. I suppose I did too, in a way."

A vague explanation. But it was something, some small piece of the puzzle.

The brothers had been wondering when and how you had gotten the attention of the Commission for recruitment. It was extremely rare, but sometimes adults with abilities were considered. However given your current role, perhaps it was decided you weren't fit for field or office work? It was very strange that the company would go out of its way to accommodate you like this, pretty much unheard of. Why would the Commission even consider this sort of work in the first place? The concerns of their employees are seldom acknowledged, so this was a little absurd.

Axel addresses this, "Your role in the Commission, how did it happen?"

The raised eyebrow you throw at him says it all; you've answered this question before, multiple times. What is he expecting to find?

He rephrases, "Not the usual work, instead they offer you this role in particular. Completely new role. Why?"

Mild surprise crosses your features; that's a good question, and given the previous conversation it shows they've still been wondering how your ability could possibly play a part in the Commission's interest in you. Not that you had expected them to drop it completely.

You give an honest answer.

"They most likely didn't think I was fit for any other role, maybe didn't trust me on the field given the nature of my ability. Can you imagine what would happen if I was on a mission and had my ability recorded and distributed? Sure they could probably cover it up as a hoax, but still! The sheer scale of the mess they'd have to clean up, the paperwork alone would be a nightmare. There's only so much I can do to prevent my changes. Besides, my 2nd Phase isn't the most...subtle."

A short wry laugh leaves your lips as you continue, "All in all, I think I'd be more trouble than I'd be worth. As for a desk job...well....could you imagine yourselves working in an office, stapling, photocopying, pushing papers for a living?"

Axel gives a huff of a laugh as his brothers grimace in disgust. Point taken.

"No offense to the people who do that sort of thing. And I do have to research and take notes when I'm taking care of my animals and my home, so there's still an aspect of that. But those lines of work weren't even offered. It was either this or..."

Oscar's brow furrows, "..Or?"

"..or basically be seen as an anomaly myself and responded to as such."

There's a pregnant pause as the brothers uncomfortably consider the choice given to you. It wasn't all that odd, the company has been known to strong-arm some prospective agents. But the choices given to you at the time, to die or become, of all things, an animal caretaker? That was bizarre.

Perhaps there was something they weren't seeing.

You sigh in response to their silence, "I can understand how they would be concerned that I might one day become a threat. I can't expect them to just leave it to chance."

Oscar nudges your leg with an elbow, prompting you to turn your attention to him.

"Trust issues."

With a smile you return the nudge with your knee, giggling when he curls his arm around your lower leg for a possessive squeeze, "I think that's something every powerful corporation has in common."

Another rumble of thunder has you peering at the window; it would seem the storm has grown a bit, if the considerable amount of rain assaulting the glass isn't evidence enough. Nothing too bad though.

A brush to your arm redirects your attention; Axel pulls his hand back, resting it on his thigh as he asks what your request is.

The butterflies are back, despite your best efforts.

"Like I said, it's a little strange."

You peer down at your hands, pushing yourself onwards, "If I am overstepping boundaries, please let me know, but...it has to do with my condition. Last night was fairly bad, so I want to see if I can keep it from getting to such a point. At least until I can find something more permanent."

Professional. That's what this has to be, what you have to be. Otherwise your face is going to erupt into flames.

Their eyes on you are heavy, quizzical yet patient. Otto's suspicions, however, are quickly being aroused.

"So..seeing as how...physical contact works? That's what I'm asking for."

There. It's out. Now it's up to them.

And yet you can't help but still feel a bit...twitchy. On edge. It's as if something has changed, the air feels almost...charged.

The eldest brother throws professionalism out the window.

"You want us to touch you?"

Axel's question is murmured softly, yet the way it pierces your heart is in clear contrast. His words slide over your skin and between your legs in a provocative tingle.

The deer in headlights look that you sport is too charming. The brothers half-expect you to scold their older brother's subtly vulgar teasing, but to their surprise after a second you're heaving a heavy sigh and nodding.

"Basically, yes."

With a huff you defend your request, "Otherwise I will most likely be hoarding all the hot drinks in this house and waking you all up late in the night."

You don't know for sure if it would work, as even without the chill of winter you had still needed a warm embrace. Otto's hands on you hadn't been enough. Your body had insisted on more to the point that you had thrown caution to the wind, scooted in close, and wrapped your arms around his neck. Still you had hope that even if this didn't work completely, you could still greatly delay reaching that point.

Oscar peers out the window at the weather; Fall is approaching, and thus an even bigger issue for your condition is looming on the horizon, "Winter?"

"Okay so..when the cold season comes...I have a feeling I'd need more..of...um," your hand rises to sheepishly rub your brow, "..of what happened with you, Otto."

Otto perks up, but masks his interest as he considers your approaching problem with a serious disposition, all while recalling the weight of you in his arms as he carried you, how snuggly you had pressed to him as you slept. He knew he wouldn't mind a repeat. He knew his brothers wouldn't mind having you wrapped around them either.

The youngest can't resist teasing, "You liked sleeping with Otto? Want us too? Girig tjej."

Flustered but cautiously optimistic that they hadn't refused yet, you murmur, "Only if you're all comfortable with it. It was nice being able to sleep through the night."

A soft tug on a lock of your hair gives Axel your full attention. He lightly strokes the wisps between thumb and forefinger, watching the strands separate and gather back together before his eyes bore into yours. His hand leaves your hair to return once more to his thigh, "We will help. If you are reaching limit, you tell us."

Little did you know, the brothers had already been planning on having this little chat about your condition with you. You have been good to them, so they had wanted to return the favor. Eye for an eye. They had originally planned on inquiring about space heaters or fireplaces but are quite pleased with the direction the conversation went instead. Perhaps they could bring up the other methods at a..better time.

Before you can thank the three or ask them about any other questions, you jolt, feeling a hand cup your calf and slide up.

You blink down at the top of the culprit's head, a fluttery emotion curling lightly in your chest.

"..Oscar?"

His hand softly squeezes as its owner turns to look at you, your leggings, and then back to you before he asks, "Different?"

...You have got to be kidding.

Realization dusts your cheeks pink, "Oh! Yes, uh..the water."

Otto tilts his head, regarding your clothing with curiosity.

Your change of leggings have been noticed. It's fine. This is fine. Everything is..

The question the youngest asks you is innocence peppered with a tinge of pseudo guilt, "I got you wet?"

Fudge.

He did. But it wasn't just him.

Fighting to keep your tone under control, you respond, "Just a little, you were still a bit damp from outside."

But if that was the case, why hadn't you also changed your dress? You pray they avoid that little detail.

Oscar gleefully waits for his brothers to catch up.

The two confused siblings eye your returning flush with mild interest before suspicion transitions quickly to hesitant disbelief.

Otto's eyes flash from your face to your lap and back up, fingers twitching as stubborn questions demand his utmost attention; how wet had you been? Could you have taken a finger? Two? With lidded eyes and red face, he directs his gaze away to the window in hopes of a distraction. It doesn't work.

Axel's breath catches and holds in his lungs, jaw tense as he recalls the slight almost imperceptible wobble of your legs when Otto had helped you remove yourself from them. Lustful frustration flares his nostrils as his own traitorous mind proposes a rhetorical question and also supplies possible answers; what had you done after you had escaped to your room? Ignored your body's need or...

Oscar glances from your face to his brothers and smirks. Mission clearly accomplished. As for whether or not their teasing had resulted in a wet pair of panties...well. The image itself is potent enough that his curiosity is sated. However he does allow himself a moment to wonder about that little article of clothing; the color, the texture, bows or lace, maybe both?

Still feigning innocence, the man slips his hand down your calf to wrap loosely around your ankle. He leans in and plants a quick kiss at the side of your knee, an action that immediately draws a reaction. As well as the attention of his brothers. The tension in the siblings is quickly reaching its limit; fraying and delicate, demanding to snap.

Bashful, you wiggle your leg but he refuses to grant you freedom, "You'll have to let go eventually, you know."

Tutting softly, Oscar coos, "Thought you wanted more touch? For cold."

Glancing up and down his bare upper torso, you say ever so matter-of-factly, "If anyone's cold right now, it's you Mister."

With a daring move, you rip a couple of fibers of that fragile thread yourself; sliding your hands deep into the folds of the quilt on your lap, you lunge. Before Oscar can react, still distracted by alluring thoughts of you, he's being smothered by the thick, soft material. It's for his own good, don't want him getting sick, after all.

Your ankle is released as the younger brother flails beneath, all the while snarling ferociously yet ineffectively. Grasping a throw pillow to use as a shield, you lift your legs up to the cushions and shuffle away from him and closer to Axel. You hadn't even noticed that the eldest had moved his arm up to the top of the sofa and was watching amused as you pressed right into his side.

Biting your lip to smother your laughter, you watch as Oscar finally breaks free from his prison; hair disheveled and face scrunched, he twists to stare you down, quilt dangling from his shoulder. Before he can get a foot under him to stand, a pillow beams him in the side of the head with wicked speed and accuracy, almost knocking the youngest off balance.

Axel takes a moment to admire Otto's throw before returning his attention to you, his face inches away. Your arm is wrapped tight around your plush shield, hugging it to you as you bury your giggles behind your free hand. He breathes deep, each breath filling his lungs with apples and cinnamon, good enough to eat.

Oscar glowers indignantly at Otto as a flash of lightning splits the air, followed quickly by a noisy crack of thunder. The brothers tilt their heads up to listen, distracted by the storm and then by the orange feline voicing her unhappiness on Otto's lap. You blink, registering where exactly you are...it's going to take some time to get used to being in close contact with them. Your thoughts are interrupted as the scent of cedar and sage drifts into your senses and warms your belly, the warmth of the man at your side now burning hot.

What have you gotten yourself into.

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Kattungar- Kittens

Girig tjej- Greedy girl

[drabbles-mc]

Protective Detail (4/?)

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Warnings: language, violence, blood, guns, mild injuries, Nestor being a goddamn thirst trap

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This chapter is a liiiiittle longer than the others have been but hopefully that’s not a problem. Did I do a deep-dive on Gino Vento’s google photos to be able to know what his body art situation is?? You betcha. Enjoy! xoxo

Chapter Index

Protective Detail Taglist: @masterlistforimagines​ @sillygoose6969​ @mydaiilyescape​ @lovebennycolon​ @the-radical-venus​ @gemini0410​ @garbinge​ @slutformayansmc​ @paintballkid711​ (as always, if you want to be on my taglists feel free to let me know!)

Despite the fact that the only thing on your agenda for the day was going to the grocery store, you still came into the kitchen in the morning to see Nestor sipping coffee in yet another button-down shirt and pair of slacks. You wondered for a moment if the man even owned just a pair of casual blue jeans.

“I don’t know where the Galindos shop,” you said with a laugh as you poured a cup of coffee, “But the grocery store I go to doesn’t have a dress code. I thought you knew that.”

He shook his head but you could see the smirk pulling at his lips, “This is just how I dress, Y/N.”

He didn’t use your name often, but each time he did you felt your entire body turn into jello for a few moments before you regained composure again. You took your time getting ready, loving that you didn’t feel rushed or like you were on a schedule. You told Nestor that he could drive, pretending that you just wanted the extra space in his car for shopping purposes. But you were also testing a theory that if you let Nestor have his way more often, he would let you know a little more about who he was as a person. Plus, you had to admit, you didn’t really mind his driving too much. Even if he did drive without the radio on.

Having Nestor with you while you grocery shopped was nice because you got to leave him in charge of pushing the cart while you perused the aisles and picked things out to eat for the next few days. You’d shove produce in his face and ask him if he thought it was fresh, and he would begrudgingly help you out, rolling his eyes at how terrible you were at telling if cantaloups were ripe.

The two of you were walking down the cereal aisle and he was shaking his head at you while fighting back a smile, “You’re like a child with access to a credit card.”

“Listen, Nestor,” you stood on your tip-toes to try and reach towards the back of the top shelf, “Coco Puffs have no age limit.”

He reached over you with ease and grabbed the last box from the back of the shelf and placed it in the cart, not saying a word as he continued pushing onward. You smiled to yourself for a few moments before snapping back to reality and speed-walking a few steps to catch up with him.

He was helping you bag items at the self-checkout and if you were honest with yourself, every now and then you would forget that he was with you to keep you from getting shot or kidnapped. Sometimes you even felt like friends, as much as someone like Nestor would let a person be friends with him.

Once you were out on the road and heading home, you looked over at Nestor with puppy-dog eyes, “Can we stop at Starbucks?”

He looked at you, shaking his head the second he saw the way you were looking at him, “The lines are always ridiculous. The ice cream will melt.”

You sighed, knowing that puppy-dog eyes most likely weren’t going to work on him but it was worth a shot anyway. You leaned back in your seat and scrolled on your phone, wanting desperately to play music to break up the silence.

Nestor passed the street that you normally turned off to get home. You looked over at him and saw how tense his body was. You sat upright, putting your phone back in your purse, “What?”

He nodded towards the rearview mirror, “Car’s been following us since we left the store.”

Your stomach knotted and you tried to take a deep breath but it didn’t help to calm you down at all. You instinctively reached for the glove compartment like it was your own car, and you were expecting Nestor to stop you, but instead he reached and opened it for you, not having to take his eyes off the road to dig around and get the gun out for you.

“You shouldn’t need to use it,” he placed the weapon in your hand and his lingered for a moment, “But just in case.”

He did his best to stay on busier roads, hoping it would be a deterrent, and also hopefully make it easier to lose whoever it was that was tailing them. You felt your heart pounding inside your chest—you had been hoping that your father had dealt with everything and that Nestor really was just an unnecessary precaution, but that wasn’t the case.

Somewhere along the way, the road went dead. Nestor was white-knuckled on the steering wheel and you were trying not to let your hands shake. He had been steadily increasing your speed, but even so the car had kept up and pulled up alongside you. You tried to get a good look at the people who were inside, but before you could, Nestor slammed on the gas and tried to speed ahead of them in one last burst to lose them.

Before he could successfully get in front of them, they swerved and hit the back driver’s side corner of the car. With the speed that Nestor had picked up they hit you hard enough to send the car spinning. By some miracle the vehicle didn’t roll, but you swerved off the road and slammed into an embankment, trashing the front of the car and pinning Nestor’s side. Even if he wanted to open his door and get out, he couldn’t. It all happened so fast, you don’t think you would’ve been able to explain exactly how the two of you ended up in that position even if someone tried to pay you to.

The other car pulled up, opening their passenger door. You had already undone your seatbelt and you instinctively shot the gun in your hand, busting the glass window. You fired off a second bullet and got the man who was coming towards you in the leg, causing him to drop. You were getting ready to fire off a third shot when a third man jumped out of the car and dragged him back throwing him in the back seat, the only sound in the air was a slew of curses of the man who was bleeding. You froze up, unable to take an easy shot that would take someone’s life.

“Just fucking go!” the man yelled as he barely got his accomplice into the back seat.

The car started peeling away before the back door was even completely shut. Clearly, they hadn’t been planning on you being armed at all, let alone ready to shoot. You took a shaky breath as you put the safety back on the gun. You turned to Nestor, who had a harsh burn along his neck from his seatbelt, as well as a cut and a welt on the side of his forehead from where his head slammed against the window while you were spinning out. You unclicked his seatbelt and gently tried to wake him without shaking him, not knowing how hard he had slammed his head.

“Nestor?”

He groaned in response, “Fuck.”

“Oh thank god,” you let out a sigh of relief.

“How many?”

“At least three,” you gently and slowly turned his head, trying to get a better idea of his injuries. You had a feeling that it was nothing serious—he was just going to be bruised and sore for a few days. His side of the car got slammed pretty bad when you went off the road. You pressed your lips together for a moment, “Still got feeling in all your limbs?”

He laughed, although it was weighted with sarcasm, leaning back against the headrest, “Yea.”

“Good,” you sighed, letting your body sink back into your seat as well, “All things considered, this could’ve gone a lot worse.”

He looked over at you, “Looks like we’ll be using your car for a few days.”

You slowly shook your head, “The ice cream is definitely gonna melt.”

His next laugh was genuine, despite the pain he was in, “You have the worst priorities in the world.”

“Hey, I checked to see if you were alive, didn’t I?”

After a few phone calls made to your father and some of his connections, you had a tow-truck and a temporary replacement car there in no time. It was convenient, the only thing you weren’t thrilled about was the fact that your father was the one who delivered it.

“What happened?” he ran to you and wrapped you in a hug

“They followed us out of the grocery store,” you said, taking a slight step back when he finally released you from his embrace, “Nestor noticed right away. They never saw my house.”

He nodded, “That’s good at least,” he held you gently by your upper arms, “How are you? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, “Neck is sore from getting spun out, but I’m alright. I should probably get Nestor home so I can get his cuts cleaned up.”

“You have things to take care of him?”

You nodded, “Yea of course.”

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

You shook your head, “No, I think we’ll be okay. I just wanna get home.”

He nodded understandingly, “Okay. I love you, mija, you know that right?”

You smiled, “I know. I love you too,” you hugged him, “I’ll talk to you later and give you a full download of the situation, alright?”

“Alright. Please, drive safe.”

“I will,” you kissed his cheek, “Te quiero.”

“Te quiero,” he walked over and shook Nestor’s hand, “Thank you for keeping her safe.”

He nodded, feeling like there wasn’t much to thank him for in this situation, “Your daughter is a very capable woman.”

“She is,” with a final nod and one last look over at you, your father went back to his own car and took off.

You and Nestor waited for the tow truck to finish loading the SUV before finally piling into the car your father had brought for you. It was pretty reminiscent of Nestor’s SUV and you knew that was probably by design. In the back of your mind you knew your father probably wanted it to be your car so he could finally give you what he considered to be a real car. Truthfully you hated driving bigger vehicles, but you weren’t about to hand the keys over to Nestor.

“I’m sorry,” he said one you were both in the car.

“What’re you sorry for?” you asked as you buckled in.

“It never should’ve come to that, to you having to use my gun.”

You shook your head, “Don’t do that. You were unconscious. Not even you are cool enough to be able to pull that off while knocked out. Thanks to you, I get to sleep in my own bed tonight. So don’t beat yourself up,” you waited for him to meet your eyes, “Self-pity is the only thing that doesn’t look good on you, so knock it off,” you offered a small smile as you started the car.

He smiled as he settled into his seat but he didn’t say anything. The drive passed in silence, and for once you weren’t itching to turn the radio on. Part of you wanted to reach over and cover Nestor’s hand with your own, but you fought the urge. He somehow managed to keep his eyes open the whole ride home.

Once you started getting what was left of the groceries out of the car, Nestor asked for the house keys so he could do a check. You told him not to bother, that there would be no way a second threat would be lurking in your house after what just happened, but he insisted. It wasn’t a battle you were going to pick, so you handed over the keys.

The house was quiet, and you didn’t make any comment on it as you started unpacking the groceries. Nestor was sat on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, and the look on his face made your heart feel heavy. You texted your father, asking for one small, very ridiculous favor, hoping that he would grant it to you.

Once all of the groceries were put away, you went and grabbed your first aid kit from the bathroom and sat down next to Nestor on the couch. This time, he didn’t look annoyed about the closeness you shared.

“C’mere,” you motioned for him to lean closer to you so you could start wiping and cleaning out the cut on his forehead. Neither of you said anything while you tended to him. He cringed slightly when you used the alcohol, but he remained silent. You told him that after he showered you would put a bandage on it just as a precaution, but the gash wasn’t really that deep. It was more to make you feel better about it. You wiped down the burn across his neck with an anti-bacterial rub, but there wasn’t a whole lot else that you could do for it.

“How’s your side?” you nodded to his side that got slammed into the door of the car when you hit the embankment.

“It’s fine,” he wasn’t looking at you.

“Can I see it?”

He stood up, ready to go shower and wash the day away, “I said it’s fine.”

“Well if it’s fine then there’s no reason not to let me see,” you weren’t yelling but it was a firm tone that you hadn’t used with him before.

He sighed, not having the energy to put up a fight. He untucked and un-buttoned his shirt, pulling the one side out so that you could see his chest and ribcage. There were a few bruises starting to come in, but it didn’t look terrible. You tried to stay focused on the real reason you wanted to look at him, but you had to admit that you let your eyes linger a little longer than medically necessary. You hadn’t been expecting to see so much ink on his skin.

“Can I go shower now?”

You nodded, “Yea. Thank you.”

You didn’t have the energy to go and get changed, so instead you melted into the couch, pushing the first aid kit to the floor. You heard the shower turn on and then, for the first time, he put music on. Your eyes went wide, thinking for a moment that you must’ve hit your head at some point too and were hearing things. After a minute went by, you finally let yourself relax, not even wanting to turn the television on and risk drowning out the melodies drifting out of the bathroom. You didn’t know what kind of music you were expecting Nestor to listen to, but what he was playing was much more mellow than you thought it would be.

You were resting with your eyes closed when there was a light knock on the door. You got up, smiling because you knew what it was. You opened the front door, smiling at your father’s newest assistant who looked like he was only a couple weeks out of college. He stood there with a smile as he held out a brown paper bag to you.

“Your dad said you needed these?”

You smiled and nodded, “Yes, thank you so much,” he nodded and went to walk away when you caught his attention again, “Hey, I never caught your name.”

“Ricardo. You can call me Ricky.”

“Thank you, Ricky.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Have a good night.”

You shut and locked the door and put the bag in the freezer, grinning over the fact that your father was still willing to indulge you in silly things like this even after all this time. You snapped back to reality when the sound of the shower and the music both shut off. The door creaked open and you fought the urge to peak into the hallway.

After a few minutes went by and Nestor didn’t reappear in the living room, you took it upon yourself to go to him. You grabbed the bag out of the freezer and two spoons before making your way down the hall.

You knocked lightly on the door, not used to it being shut. His voice was quiet on the other side, “Yea?”

You opened the door and fought to not let your jaw hit the floor. Nestor was lying on his bed, eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. All you could think about, though, was the fact that he was lying there with no shirt on, just a pair of sweatpants. You truly couldn’t believe the number of tattoos that the man had. His chest, stomach, and arms were completely decked out in ink of all kinds. You hadn’t given much thought to him having tattoos—you saw the one on his neck and his hands but other than that it never really crossed your mind. Your quick glance earlier didn’t do his extensive body art justice.

And his hair wasn’t braided—his long, thick curls were thrown up into a messy bun on top of his head. You were certain that there would never be a better look for him than that. You wished it didn’t take such a rough day to get it out of him. You cleared your throat slightly, chastising yourself over how your mind instantly flew to some very unprofessional places.

“I come bearing gifts,” you said as you walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, “Well, gift. It’s just one.”

He opened one eye, smiling as you set the pint of ice cream and spoon on his nightstand, “Which of your father’s assistants had to drive that over?”

You laughed, “The new one, Ricky.”

He forced himself to sit upright, “Poor kid.”

He reached for the ice cream and your eyes were glued to his forearms, figuring it was the safest place for you to study as you digested all of the new ink that you were seeing. You were trying not to gawk but he was making it really difficult for you. You bit down lightly on your bottom lip, unable to force yourself to look away.

He noticed you staring and immediately became very aware of how he looked, “Fuck, sorry. Let me grab a shirt.”

You shook your head, “Stop. This is your home too for now. I don’t give a shit,” you laughed, “After today you can wear whatever you want,” you took a scoop of ice cream out of your pint, “Your hair looks good like that, by the way.”

He smiled, slowly pulling his legs up so he was sitting cross-legged by his pillow, “Thanks. You tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”

You laughed, “Hey, man-buns are in right now.”

He chuckled as he methodically scooped away a layer at a time. You pulled your feet up and sat the same way he was, the two of you facing each other. Neither of you said anything as you ate, and you soaked up the moment.

“Can I put a bandage on your cut?” you asked as you put the top back on your ice cream container.

“It’s really not that bad.”

“I know but it’ll make me feel better.”

He shrugged, nodding, “Sure.”

You gathered up your spoons and what was left of your ice cream and walked out of the room. You tossed the containers back into the freezer before going to grab the first aid kit off of your floor. After thinking about it for a moment, you made a pit-stop in your room and changed out of your clothes, opting for a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt.

By the time you walked back into his room, Nestor had put on a t-shirt moved to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs off so his feet hit the floor. You sat down next to him and looked at his forehead. You sifted through the different-sized bandages you had before you found one that was satisfactory. You leaned in, gently applying it to his forehead.

You rested your palm on the side of his face, lightly tracing your thumb over the bandage to make sure it was completely on. Nestor’s eyes were closed, and without thinking better of it, he leaned slightly into your touch and you froze, not wanting to give up the contact. You tried to relax your body, but you couldn’t.

A few seconds later he opened his eyes again, and realized what he was doing. He sat upright and cleared his throat, not sure what to say or do. You forced yourself to break the silence, “Need anything else?”

He shook his head, “No. Thank you. I know I’m here to keep you safe but you definitely saved my ass today.”

You chuckled, “And you can save my ass tomorrow,” your expression grew a little more serious, “But really, you good?”

He nodded, “I’m good.”

“Okay,” you rested your hand on his knee for a moment, “Goodnight, Nestor.”

You went to take your hand away as you stood when you felt his come to rest over it, completely enveloping it, “Goodnight,” he gave your hand a soft squeeze.

You walked out of his room, shutting the door behind you. you turned off all the lights in the house before going to your room and collapsing onto your bed. You stared up at the ceiling, trying to process everything that had happened that day. You traced over the top of your hand where Nestor’s had been and, despite the day the two of you had had, you found yourself smiling.

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Constellation | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 2547

A/N: A cheeky little Galaxy post :)

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR 13x01, hospitals, general CM stuff, descriptions of panic attacks and PTSD (fictional so possibly not accurate and DEFINITELY not how everyone might experience it)

This is part of my GALAXY universe! If you liked this relationship, check out the MASTERLIST for more content!

You had only just been allowed to resume field work after an extended medical leave when Cat Adams resurfaced, leading Emily to sideline you once again.

“I’m not having this fight with you, (y/n).”

“I’m cleared for field work.”

“I know, but you’ve been cleared for less than a week and I don’t want your first case back to be this one.”

“Why, because it’s Cat Adams? I’m not afraid of her.”

“Because you’re not afraid of her, that’s why.”

“Emily-“

“I told you, I’m not having this fight. You’re going to stay here and work the case with us. JJ will go with Reid.”

As much as you resented Emily for not letting you go to the prison with Spencer, you were glad she was at least sending JJ. At least he wouldn’t be alone. It was enough to keep your head on straight, and Emily even let you go with the team to collect Diana. It made you feel more useful, especially when Spencer’s mom recognized you among the team.

When you got back to the BAU, you planned to make sure Spencer and his mom had everything they needed to resume normal life. Instead, you were greeted by Morgan, who had a lead on Scratch.

You expected Emily to tell you to stay, Scratch was just as big of a threat as Cat Adams, but she handed you a kevlar vest and didn’t say anything about it when you joined the team in the SUV’s.

It was thrilling, being back in the field. You understood why you hadn’t been allowed to be there in so long, your mind kept flickering to Spencer and his wellbeing. For the past three months, the thought was loaded and often lead to panic attacks. Now that he was released, you had to keep reminding yourself that he was safe before your worries got that far.

The speed of the drive was enough to fuel your adrenaline, but it was amped up quickly when the spikes took out your small caravan.

The truck came out of nowhere, smashing into your vehicle and immediately disorienting you more than you already were. When you finally came to, the first thing you noticed was the pain in your left arm. There was a woman next to you, she didn’t look physically injured but her behavior told you otherwise. She clearly had something internal going on.

You tried to exit the vehicle, but the side was smashed into your leg. While you didn’t think your leg was broken, you surely wouldn't be able to get it out on your own. Your hands found your gun instead, and on autopilot you double checked that it was loaded. You couldn't figure out where the rest of your gear was, or your platoon. You started whispering their names, trying to locate them.

“Smith… sound off. Marcos… sound off… Taylor… sound off. Taylor… sound off.”

“(y/n)?” a strangely familiar voice called. You tried to melt into the seat as much as you could, keeping your gun drawn towards the door on the other side of the woman. It opened, revealing a man you felt like you knew in another life.

“(y/n), it’s Matt Simmons. Are you hurt?”

“I don’t know who you are,” you kept your gun trained on his forehead. He paused for a moment, noticing the state that the woman next to you was in.

“Ok, ok. I’m going to take Tara, you stay where you are and I’ll help you next.”

“Where’s my platoon?” you asked. The flicker of realization that briefly crossed his face confused you, but instead of acting on it he took the woman he called Tara out of the SUV and started calling for someone named Luke.

“Sergeant (y/l/n), I’m Luke Alvez with the 75th Rangers. I’m going to help you get out, ok?” A new voice, also familiar, said to you calmly, “can you put the gun down?”

“Where's my platoon, Alvez?” you asked again.

“You were in an accident,” he slid onto the seat next to you when you lowered your weapon, though you kept your finger on the trigger.

“They ambushed us,” you whispered quietly when he got to working on freeing your leg.

“I know. Do you know where you are?”

“Afghanistan,” you answered incredulously, “where are the helicopters? How are you going to extract us without helicopters?” You were starting to panic more than you already had been, breathing increasing rapidly. You held your arm at a funny angle, trying to keep it where it would hurt the least. Your best guess was at least one broken bone in your arm and also a broken collarbone on that side.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. You’re having a flashback. I can’t get your leg out from here. The first responders are going to have to help, but I can’t have you shooting them.”

“No,” you pushed back on him with your good arm, “If I can’t move you need to find Taylor first.”

“Who is Taylor?”

“You’re no help to me,” your hand flew to your left wrist, fiddling with the bracelet you wore.

“Ok, I’ll be right back,” he stepped out of the SUV and back to Simmons. Despite the clamor of first responders around you, you could still hear what the two men were saying.

“They’re deep in a flashback. We can’t get power tools in here until they’ve calmed down or they will start fighting and hurt a lot of people including themselves,” Luke said.

“So how do we do that?”

“They keep asking about their platoon, about someone named Taylor. I know (y/n) got into a humvee accident while they were overseas, I think they’re reliving it. I don’t know all the details though.”

“Who does? Does (y/n) have a therapist we can call?”

“Yeah, but it’s three in the morning,” Luke fell silent for a minute before speaking again, “I’ll call Reid. He might know something.

You had an inkling that those words were supposed to mean something to you, and it only frustrated you more when they didn’t. Alvez announced that he was rejoining you in the SUV, then pulled out his cell phone, a move that confused you because phones like that didn’t work in the desert.

It confused you even more when the call seemingly connected, Alvez giving the person on the other line information about being ambushed by Scratch, Steven being dead, and Emily missing. Though familiar, none of those names made sense to you, or your situation.

“No,” you hissed, “Taylor. I can’t find Taylor.”

“(y/n) is ok. Their arm is broken, and they're deep in a flashback. They keep asking about someone named Taylor. They never talked about a Taylor in group, what can I do to help them?” Alvez listened for a minute, then handed you the phone, “it’s for you.”

“Where did you take Taylor,” you asked harshly as soon as you had the phone in your hand.

“Listen to me, (y/n). It’s Spencer. Your mind is playing tricks on you, you’re not in Afghanistan anymore. Look around,” you finally took a minute to observe your surroundings. There were too many trees for you to be in the desert, he was right. Of all the things that weren’t making sense to you right now, he was the most familiar. He had the answers you were looking for.

“Where am I? What is happening to me?"

“You’re with the FBI in Virginia. You can trust Luke, he’s going to make sure they take you to the hospital and I’ll meet you there.”

“Is Taylor ok?”

“Yes. I’ll tell you where Taylor is when I see you at the hospital, ok? I know you’re scared and hurt, (y/n), but listen to me. It’s only rain. Can you picture the rain for me?”

A single memory jumped to the forefront of your mind, standing in the rain with a curly-headed man you were certain was Spencer. You could feel the way the droplets hit your skin, you could feel the comfort you had with the man you knew was your best friend. You could feel your lungs opening up and your breathing get easier.

“Spencer,” you exhaled, finally finding footing in your brain, “it’s only rain.”

“Keep breathing, Luke is going to get you out and I’ll meet you at the hospital, ok?”

“Yeah,” you fought to keep your breathing steady, “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

You hung up and handed the phone back to Luke, counting your breaths.

“Give me another minute, Luke,” you could still feel your heart racing, though your mind was fighting to come back to reality. Once you felt like you had a better grip on it, you gave Luke the go-ahead and braced yourself while the crushed door of the SUV was cut off of the vehicle. It took every grounding technique you had to keep your head in the right place, and more than once you felt yourself start to panic about where Taylor was.

Luke rode in the ambulance with you, reassuring you multiple times that it was ok when you apologized for pointing a gun at him and Matt. You could feel your body crashing from the loss of adrenaline, the usual post-episode exhaustion coupled with the almost excruciating pain coming from your left side.

When Spencer arrived at the hospital, your brain was still cloudy from the exhaustion and various pain meds you had been given when the orthopedist had set your arm.

“How are you feeling?” he took a quick glance at your medical chart before actually making eye contact.

“Just tired, and still not… still not all the way here. Taylor… I still can’t figure out what happened to Taylor…”

Spencer sat down on the edge of the hospital bed, eyes soft, “Taylor was killed in the accident ten years ago. Your humvee was ambushed, do you remember?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, “I remember. Ten years ago when I was in the military. Now I’m a Supervisory Special Agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. We were chasing a lead when we were ambushed by Mr. Scratch, Peter Lewis,” Spencer nodded, “is the rest of the team ok? I haven’t seen them.”

“I haven’t seen anyone yet either,” he hesitated, and your knowledge of the man clued you in to the fact that he was calculating the probability of declining your condition if he told you everything he knew. The odds were in your favor, because after a moment he spoke again, “but Steven is dead and Emily is missing.”

“Emily’s missing?”

“I don’t know much about it, I have to talk to everyone else.”

“Then go talk to them, I promise I won’t go anywhere until you come back,” you reassured him. He made his rounds to JJ and Rossi in their rooms, then returned to yours with Luke on his heels. The other man stopped at the doorway when Spencer re-entered your room.

“I have to go take care of something for Rossi. You’re going to be ok here,” he said quickly before you could protest.

“I’m coming with you,” you started to get up. Spencer caught you gingerly when you practically fell into his grasp, still fatigued from your earlier episode.

“You can’t, not like this,” he whispered, lowering you back down onto the bed, “stay here a little longer. Will is in the next room with JJ, he said he’d take you home when they discharge you.”

“I don’t want to go home, Spence. I want to help find Emily.”

“I know, you can’t go into the field like this though. Tell me you’ll be good for the doctors so I can leave here without worrying more about you.”

You couldn't say no to this man you cared so much about, not when he was looking at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes you had ever seen from him.

"I'll try my best," you sighed, leaning back onto the pillow.

"Thank you," he gave your good hand a squeeze before heading back towards the door where Luke was waiting.

"Luke," you called before they could leave. He stopped in his tracks, inquisitively making eye contact with you to show you he was listening, "don't let him get lost in that big brain of his, ok?"

"I won't. Rest up, we need you back at full strength as soon as possible."

"Thank you," you whispered after him as he followed Spencer out of the hospital. You tried to get some sleep, but it didn't come easy as your brain tried to make sense of the events that had transpired the past few days. First Spencer's mom was taken, Spencer was released from prison, then Cat Adams showed up claiming to be pregnant with his baby, and now Scratch had literally ran a truck into your team- your family. It was a lot for one person to process, especially since your brain had taken an unwanted break from reality earlier in the evening.

You managed to doze off for a little bit, flitting in and out of sleep until exhaustion finally took over and pulled you deeper into its throws.

You were woken by a nurse who cheerfully informed you that you could go home. Will came to collect you and held your bag of belongings for you when he walked you out to his car.

He answered all of your questions to the best of his ability and even offered to bring you back to his home when you expressed how much you didn’t want to go back to your apartment.

Henry and Michael were enough to distract you from your reeling worries and keep you grounded while you waited to hear from the rest of the team. You let the boys draw on your cast, leaving the hard plaster full of colorful artwork.

As you were eating breakfast that Will had made, your phone finally rang.

“Emily is safe, Scratch is dead,” Spencer said when you answered.

“Thank goodness,” you sighed.

“Are you at home?” He asked next.

“No, I’m at JJ and Will’s. I wasn’t ready to be alone just yet,” you told him honestly.

“How’s your head?”

“Clearer now that I’ve gotten some sleep and some food. How’s yours?”

“Still getting back up to speed. Why don’t I pick you up and we can have a quiet day with my mom? We could all use the rest.”

“Sure, Spence. I’d love to spend some time with your mom.”

When Spencer came to pick you up, you noticed a soft smile playing on his lips when he saw the way you were curled up on the couch watching tv with the boys tucked into your side.

You let them greet him first, they hadn’t seen him since before he had gone to prison. Once they released him he finally wrapped his arms around you tightly.

Your relationship had never been very physical. In fact, you could count the number of times you had hugged Spencer Reid on one hand. Standing in Will and JJ’s entryway, though, embracing him for the first time since he had been arrested, you didn’t want to let go.

Galaxy Taglist: @kermitsaysgayrights @niallthedancingharry @shadyladyperfection  @thatsonezesty13  @lexshead @ceeellewrites @howdycharlie @girlycakepops @fantastic-fans @canimarrypizzaornah @daisyflower138 @dyingrexx @taylormobley @bazzleslynn @tj-drinks-tea @willa-wonky @eddiesbifocals @tee-mbrown @reniescarlett @bone-hurty-bitch

[fangirl-ramblings]

Pairing: Arthur x gn!reader

Characters: Reader, Simon Pearson, Mary Linton, Arthur Morgan

Word count: 3306

Summary: You and Arthur have recently made your relationship official by moving into his tent...but is he really into you...or is he still holding onto his past?

Notes: SFW, Angst leading to fluff

After requesting several wonderful stories from one of my favourite writers and people, I was super honoured to have the chance to be able to write something for the super talented and lovely @littlestarofthewest -  Merry Christmas from your secret santa 😘😘

Also a huge thank you to @horsegirl1h (who helped me plot this out) @verai-marcel (for wrangling in all my stupid grammatical mistakes) & @mileycyprus-hill who took a quick look over this and gave me a much better character note on how to improve Arthur's feelings in this story and give me a far better title I could ever think of myself. Thank you all 😘

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

The First Shall Be Forgotten

You slowly opened your eyes, only to find the cot next to you still empty. It was fairly late when you'd finally taken yourself off to bed last night, but you had found yourself unable to keep your eyes open as you'd sat around the scout fire. Your hope of Arthur riding back into camp and joining you in lying down for the night had turned into a wishful dream of waking up with his strong arms wrapped around you, but it turns out it was just that - merely a pleasant dream. 

It was only a few months since you'd started dating, with most of that time spent being inseparable, but lately you noticed that Arthur was staying away from camp longer and longer. Yes - the events of Blackwater had changed the gang's luck and the likes of Dutch and Strauss kept giving Arthur more and more tasks to do, but you'd felt like that most of these jobs could be done well before nightfall. Surely Arthur wasn't avoiding you because he was bored of you already….could he?

You sat upright, shaking your head free of any more of those nasty thoughts, quickly making the decision that you should get dressed and help out around camp before Miss Grimshaw marched over to berate you for wasting so much time idling about.

There was a chill floating in the air this morning in camp and so you found yourself shivering as you looked around for your light jacket. Opening your shared trunk, you proceeded to pile a mixture of both yours and Arthur's clothes on to the cot in your quest to find your missing coat. Though you soon found yourself distracted as you lifted one of Arthur's shirts up, tutting to yourself as you saw just how worn and dirt stained they all were. You swore that that man would wear these offending items until they fell apart on him...and some were close to doing so, judging by how often they'd been patched up.

   "Ah, there you are," Pearson's cheerful voice booming from behind you, making you jump out of your skin, "I need a helping hand gathering supplies in town and was wondering if you could come along with me for the ride"

   "Me? Surely there's someone more capable about?" Although Valentine was only a short ride away, the idea of being Mr. Pearson's captive audience for that short length of time was not high on your list of priorities for the day. 

   "Well, I don't know if you noticed but we are stretched a little thin on the ground right now," his hands gesturing to the almost empty camp area in front of you, "Mr. Smith & Mr. Escuella are yet to return from Blackwater with young Sean and, as you well know, Mr. Morgan is still yet to return from wherever he has took himself off to. As for the girls..." you tried to stifle a chuckle as he trailed off to glance nervously over at where Tilly, Mary-Beth and Karen were currently sitting at their wagon, making sure they couldn't hear this conversation, "...I'd rather not ask them. Uncle told me of the trouble they got up to on their last visit into Valentine."

You couldn't help but burst out laughing at Pearson's fear of trying to keep three excited young women from creating chaos. "Sorry, sorry," you apologised, wiping your eyes as he looked at you with confusion, "Well...since you have no other options, I'll join you. I've been wanting to pick Arthur up a new shirt anyways." Spotting your jacket at the bottom of the truck, you quickly threw it on, leaving all the other clothes heaped on the bed, "Shall we go now then?"

"Goddamit, why does there have to be a train in the station?" you grumbled as Pearson pulled the horses to a stop at the crossing, which was blocked by one of the carriages belonging to the offending train. After being waylaid by the shop boy slowly loading the wagon with all the goods Pearson had chosen for camp - not that any of these ingredients would do much to improve his cooking, you cruelly thought to yourself - your head was starting to ache from listening to Pearson's constant tall tales. All you had wanted to do was get back to camp and sleep off your headache, but that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon, thanks to this stupid train.

   "I know what you mean, I was hoping to get back and make a start on preparing supper," Pearson sighed before suddenly cheering up, "But, hey, at least it gives me more time to tell you about my time at sea. There was this other time..."

Internally, you found yourself groaning, trying to zone out the older man as he recounted yet another story, that this time seemed to involve him somehow, inexplicably fighting a walrus -  single-handedly -  to save his crew.

You glanced around, finding yourself admiring all the different horses hitched up around the station...until a familiar sight caught your eye.

   "Hey isn't that Brutus?" you interrupted Pearson mid-sentence, gesturing towards the big, black Shire horse that Hosea had gifted Arthur a few weeks ago. Arthur had rarely named his horses after losing his beloved Boudicca in Blackwater and was more than content to just refer to this one as "Boy", but after overhearing Hosea called this giant a brute, you'd jokingly suggested the name Brutus, a name that had tickled Arthur and agreed it was the perfect name for this beast.

Put out a little by the fact you had rudely interrupted him just as the story was getting good, Pearson grudgingly glanced over to the direction in which you were pointing.

   "Er, it does look like it. So anyway after I killed the Walrus with nothing but my bare hands…" 

   'So this is where you've gotten to Morgan,' you thought to yourself, once again not listening to Pearson's story. 'Here's hoping you're on your way home too.'

Smiling to yourself that your lover would hopefully be by your side once more, you absent-mindedly found yourself scanning the crowd of people that was starting to thin out as they slowly stepped onto the carriages...until you saw him standing with his back to you.

A smile started to creep over your face as you recognised Arthur's dirty blond hair, broad frame and filthy blue shirt. Just the fact you could see how dirty it was from this distance made you glad that you'd made the decision to buy him a new one now, as that one needed throwing out, never mind a good wash. Anybody would think that man spent most of his time rolling around in the mud than riding a horse around.

With his hands on his gun belt, he shifted his weight to one side and the smile on your face was replaced with a look of confusion as a young lady was revealed to be standing next to him, deep in an intimate conversation.

Unconsciously scowling at her, you were unable to shake the feeling that you've seen her somewhere before, but for the life of you, you couldn't quite place where.

You squinted your eyes to try and focus your vision on her delicate features before a feeling of rage bubbled up from your stomach as she kissed Arthur's cheek, in a way that suggested more than just friendship.

"And I'll tell you - I used that walrus meat to feed a crew of 50...and not one of them complained the way you and the rest of camp do about my cooking" Pearson waffled on down your ear, distracting you from your thoughts about this mysterious woman and how you wanted to jump down and throttle her. Instead you suddenly had the urge to wrap your hands around the cook's neck. 

Turning to face him, you barked, "Maybe being at sea for weeks at end with no food makes people more appreciative of the slop you always manage to serve up - no matter the ingredients." 

You instantly felt regret as the words left your mouth and you saw the hurt in the older man's eyes.

   "Christ, I'm sorry Mr. Pearson. I didn’t mean to take it out on you..." You paused, thinking about telling him about what you just saw, but you doubted this old sea dog would give a damn about your love life and so explained "I just have a real bad headache and it's put me in a bad mood."

He nodded softly and turned away so you wouldn't see him wipe the sting of the tears from his eyes.

Feeling guilty from the hurt you just caused, you looked away to the source of your own pain, only to find Arthur had disappeared from the platform and the train was now pulling out the station. Had he gotten on board with his mystery woman? Gone off to start a new life with her and left you and the outlaw life behind him? These thoughts rattled around your head as Pearson told the horses to giddy up and the pair of you headed back to camp in an awkward silence.

Jumping down from the wagon, you helped Pearson unload the wagon - still with an uneasy tension in the air, before you tried to broker the peace between you both by offering to help prepare the next meal as a peace offering.

   "No, it's quite okay," Pearson patted you shoulder to show there was no hard feelings, "You go sleep off that sore head of yours"

You nodded appreciatively, finding yourself thanking him and apologising once more as you picked up the wrapped parcel containing Arthur's new shirt, and headed back to your tent. 

As you walked over, you rolled your eyes in annoyance at yourself as you caught sight of the mess you'd left behind this morning. Picking the mountain of clothes up, you threw them in straight at the trunk at the end of the cot, surprising yourself as you heard a loud clatter of something hitting the side of the chest and then dropping onto the floor.

Peering over, you saw that a few shirts and a pair of trousers had missed their target and were now scattered over the floor... alongside a wooden photoframe, laying face down on the ground, that definitely wasn't there before.

Picking it up, you recognised the image of a younger, but still very handsome version of Arthur standing on the left.

'You've always been a good-looking bastard haven't you?' half smiling as you took in his handsome features, 'No wonder you have a long list of admirers to spend all your time instead of me.'

Well before you and Arthur had started dating, you had seen this photograph before. You recalled picking it up from his bedside table back then too, in order to get a closer look of how attractive Arthur's always been.

But sometime between then and making your relationship official, Arthur must have removed it and hidden it out of sight from you. Just as you were about to ask yourself why, you spotted who else was in the picture.

   'No…no it can't be,' you thought to yourself as you stared at the beautiful, dark haired woman standing next to him in the image. But, as much as you didn’t want it to be, it certainly was. Looking straight back at you was a younger version of the same woman from the train station…the same woman who had ripped Arthur's heart out and tore it into a million pieces all those years ago when she called off their engagement - Mary.

Time seemed to slow down as your mind went into overdrive. Did he simply remove the picture as a thoughtful gesture so you wouldn't wake up to a younger Arthur and his ex-fiancee looking at you…or did he hide it because he still loved her and her alone? Were you just a stopgap - something to fill the emptiness in his heart until she came back to him? Is that the real reason Arthur had hidden the picture and not gotten rid of it completely? So once he had managed to win her back, he could toss you aside and place it once more on his bedside to stare lovingly at while he held her in his arms?

You hadn’t realise you were crying or just how hard you were gripping the frame until you heard the sudden sound of glass cracking and a mix of your blood and tears began to streak all over her stupid, perfect face. Standing frozen to the spot, you stared and stared at her image, slowly disappearing under the physical manifestations of your hurt and betrayal, until you heard Arthur bellow out your name as he rode back into camp.

   "Hey you. Boy, did I sure miss you while I was gone," he cheerfully greeted you as he strode towards you, "I tell you, there's some strange sights out there that I've been dyin' to tell you all 'bout."

   "Tell me?" you snarled, acting the wounded animal you currently felt like, "Don't you have other people you'd rather spend your time with?"

   "What? What's got into you?" 

Your heart panged as you saw the hurt cross his face as he saw how upset you were. 

"Listen, if this 'bout me spendin' so much time from camp recently, then I am sorry - but I did miss you somethin' fierce y'know" he assured you, placing his arms around your waist.

   "Just like you've missed Mary for all these years?" Just saying her name out loud felt like you had tasted venom on your lips and needed to quickly spit it out.

"Mary? Where's all this comin' from?" He flustered, averting his eyes downwards as not to meet your steely gaze. Upon seeing you holding the photograph, he exclaimed, "Christ alive, you're bleedin'. Here lemme fix you up."

"I'm fine," you snapped at him, pulling your hand away from his gentle touch. Any other time, this small act of affection - the big mean outlaw gently cradling your hand in his - would have made you melt on the spot, but today your inner rage wasn't having any of it. Instead you blurted out, "I saw you. At the train station…with her."

Realising he had been caught out and couldn't bluff his way out of this sorry mess, he sat down on the cot and tried to explain.

   "Okay, yeah, I was at the train station with her, but it really ain't what you think…"

   "I saw her kiss you."

  "You mean when she kissed my cheek? That was her sayin' goodbye. Her and her brother are headin' back East to find their father."

You sat next to him, the photograph still in your hands.

   "Still doesn't explain why you were with her in the first place."

   "No it doesn't, does it." He sighed, running his hand down his face. "I was on my way back to camp, ridin' through Valentine when I thought I'd check and see if there was any post. Lo' and behold there was just the one - a letter from Mary askin' if I could help with a small problem of hers."

   "So you must have been in contact with her if she knew you were in town."

He shook his head. "No. No, she'd recognised the girls after their last trip into town and wrote to me on the off-chance I was also in the area."

   "Why?"

"Her kid brother, Jamie, he'd gone and got himself mixed up in this weird cult up in Cumberland Forest. Christ, you shoulda seen them all listenin' on as this lunatic spouted some nonsense about turtles or somethin'," laughing, he patted his leg until he saw your stony expression still waiting for the answer to your question.

   "Get to the point please, Arthur."

   "You're right, sorry," he said as he nodded, "Jamie was the only one in her family who stood up for me and I owed it to *him*, not Mary, him -  to help get him away from those crazy fools."

You fidgeted slightly next to him. You wanted to believe him, but he seemed to be avoiding the main topic of conversation.

   "So say I believe you about your reasonings for helping her…why did you keep a picture of her?"

Silence filled the air for a second before he simply answered. "I shoved it in there so you wouldn't have to keep lookin' at it when we lay together...and I guess I forgot all 'bout it."

You looked away as more tears fell down your cheeks. Gently placing his hand under your chin, Arthur turned your face to face his, looking deep into your eyes he told you, 

   "You’re overthinking – I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.”

   "Prove it." You pleaded.

   "Okay then...this should show you she's nothin' to me now." He took the broken frame from your grasp and carefully removed the picture from the frame, lingering for a moment before crumpling it up in his hand and walking towards the campfire.

Though his stride was purposeful, you couldn't help but feel he faltered once more as he looked at the flames, but those fears disappeared as he turned to look back at you with a warmth in his eyes and a smile stretching wide across his face. Looking straight at you, his hand opened and the picture fell into the flames, where it lay for a few moments as it slowly rendered into nothing but a pile of ashes.

Making his way back over to you, he picked you up and spun you around his arms.

   "I'm all yours...are you mine?"

Bonus scene: Arthur's POV

He slowly removed the picture from the frame, partly being careful not to cut himself on broken shards of glass and partly because he wanted to make sure he was making the right decision. He was convinced that after Mary called it all off between them, he'd never smile, let alone love again. But then you'd walked into his life and brought light back into the darkness he'd found himself in.

But maybe there was a reason he'd held on to this photograph for all this time - a reminder of the good times that existed between them. Heartbreak has a funny way of erasing those memories, but seeing the woman you once considered the love of your life in person has an equally funny way of making those feelings rush back.

But no, the heartache he'd felt for all these years outweighed the fleeting moments of happiness he'd felt with Mary. And that kiss on the cheek to say goodbye that she'd given him at the train station? It certainly didn't give him butterflies like it used too. Looking at her image one last time, he crumpled it up and walked over to the campfire.

Though he had confidently strode over to flames, he once more had doubts he was right to finally let Mary go. Turning to face you, everything suddenly became very clear in Arthur's mind. Everything he ever wanted: someone who loved the group of people he considered family, as well as loving him for the man he was - despite his faults, someone who was willing to stick with him through thick and thin, make him laugh when he was down, and never fail to make him smile, that special someone he wanted to grow old with with...he already had that with you.

Without thinking, he opened his hand and let the battered photograph waft downwards, enveloped by the flames and turning to nothingness as he made his way back over to you, picking you up and spinning you around his arms.

   "I'm all yours...are you mine?"