#either way nice mark they knew is basically already gone

[jeonbunnie]

love is gone

pairing: reader x jeon jeongguk

anon suggested: “I had this idea for a fic it's angst with a lot of heartbreak with soft smut based on love is gone by Slander ft. Dylan Matthew, basically the oc and jungkook have been in a relationship for two years but recently she's felt him drifting away from her and things aren't the way it used to be so she plans a super cute date night in hopes of saving their relationship which he agrees too but he doesn't come home that evening....when he does come home the next day and mentions they have to talk she knows what he's going to say but she thinks if she can show him one more time he'll feel how much she loves him...but in the end his love is gone.”

summary: Jeongguk tries to let you down easy.

genre: angst; smut; 18+;

content/warnings: POV shifts; boyfriend!jeongguk; established relationship;break up!au; hurt/comfort; make up sex (kinda lol); fingering,unprotected sex

soundtrack: love is gone— by slander ft.Dylan Matthew (highly recommend listening to the acoustic ver)

a/n: writing this made me… 😮‍💨 mark me down as sad and horny byeeeeeeeee. Also reader has brown eyes bc of reasons. Brown eyed girl supremacy, mwah!

word count: 1.4K

♪ It tears me up when you turn me down. I'm begging please, just stick around♪

"Baby, let's talk."

Something about the way he said it made your heart crack. The tone of his voice, the softness of Jeongguk's words, there's a finality to it all that made you anxious for what came next.

"Can you come with me for a minute?"

You didn't want to have this conversation. You already knew where it would lead.

Everything in you wants to say no. But it's the first time you've seen Jeongguk in 24 hours and the first time he's held your hand in weeks, so you let him lead you outside, helpless against his touch.

You couldn't face him when you sat down on the park bench, and you're sure the words you've been avoiding will be written all over his expression, so instead, you look out at the horizon.

It was hurting you. Sitting at the bench with Jeongguk so close but so far away, the distance between you verging on strangers.

You had half a mind to lash out and accuse him of breaking up with you in public so you could accept it quietly and not cause a scene. But you know him.

You know your boyfriend was kind and gentle-hearted. He probably brought you out here because you loved sunsets, and he wanted to give you a nice memory even as he said goodbye.

In the distance, the sunset was a red-orangey glow, casting everything the light touched in golden warmth—but you can't feel it. All you feel is ice-cold dread for what's about to happen.

So you beat him to the punch. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"

All the air rushed out of Jeongguk in a sigh. "Am I that obvious?"

You would have laughed at his question if it hadn't hurt you so much. "You've been avoiding me all week. Last night, you asked me for space, and now you want to 'talk.' We haven't talked in days. I might be blindly in love with you, but I'm not an idiot," you said, trying hard to keep the words from coming out bitter.

Jeongguk ran a hand through his hair, nerves on edge. Masked behind your anger, he could hear the hurt in your voice, and he hated being the cause of it. This wasn't easy for him, letting you go. But he couldn't keep you either.

"I think," he started. "I think we should start seeing other people."

At his confirmation, a hot tear slid down your cheek. Before you could wipe the tear yourself, Jeongguk reached out, closing the distance between you, and brushed the tear away with his thumb. He never could stand seeing you cry.

"Did I do something wrong?" You asked, barely keeping yourself together.

"No. Of course not. It's not you—"

"—It's me?" You finished, offering him a wobbly smile. "You don't have to say that just to be nice."

The look on your face made Jeongguk's chest ache so much he could barely breathe. "I don't wanna hurt you. . ."

"But you don't want to stay either?"

He doesn't answer that question; somehow, the silence between you only makes you feel worse.

"I see. . . "you said, nodding your head. "So that's why you didn't come home last night."

You fell asleep on the couch, waiting for him to find his way back to you so the picnic basket you packed remained untouched on the counter. You thought you could remind him of how great things used to be by recreating your first date at the park.

It involved fairy lights, wine, and homemade sweets filled with the love you hoped to remind him of. The love you hoped was still there.

Now you realize Jeongguk was never going to come back home to you. Not last night or any night after.

In a way, you're grateful. Considering the surprise you had planned, it would have been embarrassing if he had come home the night before.

Of course, you still made it to the park, but the situation was dramatically different now. But instead of making up, you were breaking apart.

"I'm sure you noticed how different things are between us now," said Jeonggguk. "Last night, I needed time alone to think. I tried to imagine myself without you. And the thing is, I could….and it all felt so."

You bit your lip, holding back more tears. "Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?"

Jeongguk was quiet for a moment, and hope built in your chest, but it died just as quickly when you saw him shake his head no.

Jeongguk forced his face to stay neutral. "I will always love you, but just not in the way I wish I still could."

"So this is it then? We're over? Just like that?"

You want to cry, scream, and beg, but Jeongguk is still and calm beside you. So calm you know he's already decided to end things, and you know him well enough to know how stubborn he is that he won't change his mind now that he's made it up.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I understand if you don't want to be around me, I've already made plans to stay at Joons tonight if you prefer me gone."

That was the last thing you wanted. "No," You said, pushing down the sobs that threatened to come from your mouth. "Can you stay, please?"

Jeongguk hesitated, looking away from the face of the setting sun. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea…" He didn't want to give you the wrong impression that there was any way to salvage your relationship. And more than that, he didn't want to lose his resolve because a night with you would make it that much harder to walk away.

"Just for tonight? I don't wanna be alone." It felt stupid to want him there now when he was the cause of your pain, but Jeongguk was one of the few people in your life who knew how to comfort you. You wanted him close, even at the most inopportune moment.

The word 'no' was at the tip of his tongue, but he turned to look at you, and the hurt he found there in your big brown eyes had him saying 'yes.'

And he knows he shouldn't, but Jeongguk can't help but comfort you like he always has. Even though you broke up, it didn't change the fact that he still cared for you, still had love for you. He told himself it was just a reflex that had him reaching for your hand on the walk back home.

It's reflex that has him curling up next to you in bed and wrapping his arms around your waist to be the big spoon, as always.

Reflex that has him kissing away your tears, neck, and shoulder.

Reflex that has his hands sliding underneath your clothes to rub you through your underwear, desperate to make you feel good.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

And before he knows it, he's sinking into you with a groan, getting lost in the familiar warmth of your body.

You're so wet it was easy to slip inside, and even though he's already inside you, so close, naked body flush against yours—it's not enough.

Jeongguk still wanted more.

He couldn't help but grip your thigh, lifting your leg to push in deeper, to feel more of you as his cock slid in and out of your heat.

It has to be a reflex because it can't be love that has his hips driving into you, over and over and over again.

It can't be love that has him moaning into your mouth, kissing you until you are both out of breath, till you clench around him and he spills inside you, filling you up so perfectly.

Because if it is love and not the memory of loving you that makes it so hard to pull away hours later when your tears have dried, and your heart beats steady as you sleep dreamless on the side of the bed that used to be his—then Jeongguk is making a mistake. It was possibly the biggest mistake of his life.

Jeongguk isn't sure he can live with being the one to break both of your hearts. But he'd rather end it all before your relationship's indifference could turn to something cruel. He'd finish it now before you could hurt each other further.

If he had thought about it more, Jeongguk might have seen the love hidden in his actions. That there was something here worth saving, worth fighting for.

But that wasn't what he wanted. Jeonguk didn't want to think of everything he was giving up walking away from you.

It was much easier to pretend his love for you was gone.

[bleedingcoffee42]

Something I started that's been untouched in my Docs for a while so posting to either get it out of my mind or feel guilty and pick it up again.

Speirton showering in Haganeau. Nothing raunchy yet, just bros using the community shower with some Ivory soap floating around.

“In here.”  Ron said and held the flap open on the shower tent.  Lipton was tired and sick enough to almost walk entirely into it before stopping and looking at him with confusion.

“The showers, sir?”  Lip asked and got shoved the rest of the way in as the captain huffed impatiently and dropped the flap behind them.

Ron pushed him toward the livestock trough filled with warm water.  “You sound like shit.   Take a bath.  It will help clear your lungs and you sweated out that fever last night something fierce.”

Lip felt himself pushed towards the tank and he put up very little resistance because he genuinely was worn out.   Captain Speirs pointing out he knew he was sweat soaked and feverish last night didn’t exactly help his mind stray from the fact the man was sharing a bed with him for the past two days. Or that it was currently the middle of the night and they were alone in the shower.   Or that he was probably going to watch to make sure he used the bath and didn’t drown in the process.  “As much as I appreciate it, I can take a shower.”

“You’re barely standing, just get in there.  I had Grant and Talbert drag it all the way from some farm, clean it and have it ready for you after the patrol. I stole that soap for you too.   So please, don’t make me order you.”

“Yes, sir.”  Lip said and watched Speirs walk past and over to a bench, running his hands through hair that was too long and shaking some debris out of it.    He looked like he was getting ready to indulge in a hot shower too, so that made him feel a little better about having the nicer accommodations again.  He looked down at a bucket with a towel folded over something, flipped it open and saw a bounty of supplies: soap, cigarettes, a lighter and a hershey bar. 

As Lip stripped down he began to doubt his ability to stand for a shower.   He had to admit he was worn out.  Be it the pneumonia or maybe being up all night again, even if there wasn’t a patrol tonight, was making the warm bath look incredibly inviting.  He wasn’t going to protest again, especially since Speirs was already stripping and probably eager for his own shower. He managed to get down to his t-shirt and pants before looking back down at that Hershey bar and hearing his stomach rumble.

It would probably be nice to ask if the captain wanted some.  He had basically been his caretaker for the past few days, between yelling at him to ride in the front of the truck, to securing a decent billet, to having a nice old German couple pity him and give him strudel and schnapps, to insisting he take the bed to….well, sharing it with him.   Yeah, Speirs had gone above and beyond and probably deserved half a Hershey bar for it.  

The shower was running already, indicating Speirs was probably naked and enjoying the first shower he’d had in months.  Lip could have just asked–just asked without turning around to look at the man who probably had his back turned to him and didn’t require eye contact at this very moment. 

Lip looked over anyway, knew he shouldn’t as looking around during community showers was taboo unless someone was starting shit.  But since Foy, he couldn’t stop stealing glances at their new CO, and this glance was longer than intended.   Thankfully his captain’s back was to him, but it’s not like he would have looked away if Speirs was staring straight at him.   It did allow him to admire what he saw as Speirs washed his hair.   He saw a wound, a scared-over wound on Speir’s ass.   The irony of their new commander being marked with the traditional wound of Easy Company not lost on him.   Nor were his lean, well-defined muscles.

“Holland.”

“Sir?”  Lip asked, knowing damned well he had been caught.

“Shot in the ass in Holland.  Swam across the river, got shot on the way back.  Barely made it to shore.”

Lip didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t looking, just marveled at the man’s uncanny ability to see what he shouldn’t be able to see.  “Have you given up on swimming into enemy territory?  I’m surprised you didn’t just do yesterday’s patrol yourself if you have all that experience.”

There was an amused snort.  “Well, you probably would have been the one to shoot me if I left this company to fend for itself with whoever they found to replace me.”

“That I would have, sir.” Lip smiled, glad the teasing landed well.

“Drop the ‘sir’ when we’re naked and talking about holes in my ass.”

Lip smiled, laughed a little.  “I’ll try, si…shit.”

“Ron.”

“I’ll try, Ron.”

“Try getting in that bath before the water’s cold or I finish my shower and throw you in there.”

Lip smiled, “Yes,sii…if you wanted a piece of this Hershey bar?”

“Nice save.”  

Nice ass.  Lip thought as he took one more look before getting undressed. He moved his gifts off the bucket so he could sit and take off his boots.   

“No, Luz saved that for you.   You need it.”

Carwood got his boots unlaced and kicked off and everything else came off a lot easier after that.  He stepped in the tank and the warm water beckoned to him, inviting him into its civilized embrace.   He felt like this could have been a fine hotel in Paris instead of an army shower tent set up in a back alley in Hagenau.   He slipped into the water and closed his eyes. It felt simply amazing.

He heard the shower turn off and figured Speirs was done with his shower.   Considering he was already told his CO wasn’t going anywhere because he had concerns he might drown, Lip struck up a conversation.   “Where did you get the soap? Ivory, that’s hard to come by.”

“You don’t want to know.”

Lip took a deep breath and started coughing immediately.  Dammit.   He tried to play it off as a laugh but Speirs, no Ron, was already over beside him making sure he wasn’t going to pitch forward and put water in his already fluid filled lungs.  “I’m fine.   I just, uh, remember Nix looking for soap for Winters yesterday.”

“Probably because someone stole his soap.”

Lip looked at him, a dangerous admission.  He was squatting beside the tub.  Speirs’s, no Ron’s, eyes had a light of amusement in them, paired with the small smile tugging at the edge of his lips made Lip gasp,  “You didn’t.”

“He probably used up the battalion's supply of soap shaving and bathing in Bastogne.   Won’t kill him to go without shaving for a day.”

Lip couldn’t help but let his eyes drift down to the stubble on Ron’s cheeks before looking back at his eyes and seeing a cocked eyebrow.   Damn, when he smiled he looked so young.   “Ivory too.”

“Mmm.” Ron stood up, aware doing so would put everything at eye level for Lipton since he was naked and still dripping wet.   “Nix has a stash from the states.  Only the best for his Captain.”

Lip managed to follow Ron’s face with his eyes as he stood up.  Ron looking down at him with that amused smile was making him glad the bath water was now dingy and cloudy.   Damn, the man was fit.  He took a chance and leaned back in the tub, put his arm on the side of the tank and said, “Remember those ads Ivory used to put in the magazines?”

“The ones that suggested soldiers were fucking and using soap for everything from brushing their teeth to using it for satisfaction?”  Ron asked and held his stare.  “Yeah, I do.”

Lip swallowed hard, telling himself to not break that stare even though Speir’s valuables were at eye level to him in the tub and he could hear a voice in his head asking, ‘How are those nuts, sarge?’

“I also need that soap when you’re done with it.”  Ron said and grabbed the bucket and went to sit down over by the shower head he was using.

Lip let out a ragged breath, his lungs screamed at him less because of the steam that was helping, but also probably because blood started flowing elsewhere and moved the inflammation further south.   Okay, so there was no way to misinterpret that, right?

[terastalungrad]

BB20: Wednesday 11 October

"You don't have to be clever to be in a boarding school, it's all down to your parents, what they can afford."

Big fan of Farida explaining this to Zak in front of boarding school-educated Henry.

Shopping task is to pretend to be a company. Yinrun, Trish and Henry become bigwigs, so they're in charge. And they wear big wigs. Those are two Steff faves, and the Tory himbo.

Four days in, Hallie continues speak directly into the cameras to address Big Brother. Iconique. We have no choice but to stan. Etc.

Bigwigs get to decide who will be middle management, and who will be the Bottoms (language that reassures me that ITV haven't forgotten Big Brother's core demographic of filthy queers).

Instinctively, I feel like the right choice is to make middle managers out of the housemates most likely to sulk. Olivia, Chanelle, maybe Kerry. I bet that's not what they've done.

Okay, wow, the only one of those three they've picked is Kerry. This will cause discord, you mark my words.

Dylan, Zak and Paul will be solid Bottoms I reckon. Yep. I said what I said.

Aw, I'm so right about Zak. He's been amazing so far, actually. Very good for morale, very good at ending conflict before it begins.

Oh no, the power of middle management has gone right to Kerry's head. Calling a meeting when there's nothing to discuss - except for her disapproval of Zak's approach of being nice to the Bottoms so everyone's on side. Kerry favours an approach where the middle managers make every decision and force the Bottoms to do what they say.

Meals are provided - more luxurious food for those higher up the food chain. Kerry complains about her perfectly lovely middle manager meal.

Kerry's going to cause a lot of conflict this series I reckon. On the first night, she was asked to pick the worst-dressed housemate. She picked Jenkin, who lost his suitcase, and I thought she'd failed to understand the premise of the game - that the housemate she picked would face a punishment.

Now, I've changed my mind. I think she knew full well - and it simply didn't matter. She's a no-nonsense person, by the book. You ask her to pick the worst-dressed housemate, that is exactly what she'll do. She won't pick a second choice instead, even if her first choice has already been given multiple punishments.

Kerry's told to be a middle manager, and that's what she does. Doesn't matter that this isn't really a company - that this is just a task within a TV show. The moment she's given that role, she expects absolute obedience. Not only from those underneath her, but from her fellow middle managers too.

Henry has a Big Brother mug with the new logo on it. Let me be very clear that I want one of these mugs.

I wonder who wins this sort of Big Brother? I'd love it to be Hallie. I reckon Jordan stands a very good chance.

People on the internet hate Olivia, so I'm automatically on her side. Not fun seeing her clash with Zak, though. The Bottoms are all doing a tedious job - sorting hundreds of paper clips by colour - and Zak comes to keep up their spirits.

Olivia's annoyed by his presence - but that's unreasonable, so she needs to think of a good reason to resent him. "I know you love being in charge," she says. But - he isn't here on a power trip. He either wants people to be happy, or he wants to be liked. Either way, he's absolutely not motivated by wanting to rub people's nose in his status.

Tell you a video game I like - KeyWe, which Tumblr recommended to Elanor. Co-op game where you play as two kiwis who get a job in a post office. You obviously cannot single-handedly do the job of an actual human, but with two of you, you can get basic tasks done. Anyway, the task where Paul and Zak sort through post IS this game, down to the final detail. It even has troublesome animals, in the form of pigeons who shit on you.

Interesting - Yinrun feels like nobody except Trish and Henry speak to her very much.

Now listen. I love Farida and Kerry. But I would not stay in a job where if they were my managers.

"I honestly thought we were going to be bored," says Farida of the show so far. She really hadn't banked on the ITV version being so full of action.

Aw, Hallie checking in on Kerry is adorable.

A really sweet generational thing. Hallie wants to offer physical comfort, but only on Kerry's terms. So even as Kerry starts to tear up, Hallie doesn't hug her - but holds out her arms, which Kerry can choose to take or not.

And Kerry doesn't take Hallie's arms, because she's a different generation. Instead, she says, "Have you smelled this?" and offers Hallie a nice-smelling product. And then Hallie DOES hug her.

Ahh, Hallie has absolutely clocked Farida's need for control.

Fair play to Kerry - she has the idea to let the Bottoms decide on the shopping if they win the task. That's really nice.

Oh no, but Farida is dead against the idea!! Actually, maybe I've been too quick to judge Kerry's management. She's really good here.

Zak comforting Hallie. Steff faves unite! ... oh, is Zak a Steff fave now? I suppose he is!

The bigwigs talk about demoting Farida, since she wants to do the Bottoms' pointless busywork. But that's not going to work, is it? Farida's not going to become easier to manage when she feels she has less control.

Who gets voted out in a show like this?? On Channel 4, we'd lose the most-hated housemate. Sources of drama would be in trouble - probably Farida, since Olivia's immune.

On Channel 5, we'd lose the least-loved housemate. Someone who's failed to stand out. Noky could be in trouble, just because she's not been especially prominent.

Farida thinks Kerry is conniving! She isn't, Farida. You're annoyed about Kerry wanting to let the Bottoms choose the shopping. That is ... the opposite of conniving? Right? That's Kerry wilingingly conceding power and control to reward the hardest workers. The most cynical possible reading is that Kerry wants to be liked.

[sleepisaturn]

radio free america! [ 1/8 ]

pairing—steve rogers x barista!reader

summary—a cute guy forget's his sketchbook and it's up to the equally cute barista to make sure it's returned safely into his arms

warnings—lots of angst from Steve's pov, crushes at first sight, idiots who like each other, this doesn't really need a warning, meet-cute?? , set months before the events of the battle in New York

a/n—they definitely didn't show enough of what Steve might have felt waking up 70 years into the present

The man woke up from a war and almost immediately was thrown into another

THE MAN NEEDS THERAPY

the endgame ending only happened cuz my man still had unpacked trauma from everything

❥ owner of a lonely heart

he felt many emotions as he woke up 70 years into the present

he felt so afraid not knowing a single thing as he opened his eyes

Is he dead?

If he's alive, where's Peggy?

Why did the radio say the game of '41? it's supposed to be 1945

he felt more scared as he was welcomed by a stranger

After running away from the fake room made to look like a hospital room he was in, he finds himself in a stranger – more modern version of New York that he could hardly recognise

Everyday since waking up, he'd just feel lost most of the time — a man lost in time.

There were more buildings and billboards that were lit up.

He thought he died, everybody did.

Maybe he should have died , because he never asked to be alive after 70 years as he knew sacrificing his life was worth it.

it’s still weird for him to see everything has passed,his friends were gone and Peggy already lived her life without him.

it felt strange exploring New York, there were more buildings, more variety of foods.

It's new territory and he felt isolated, like a newborn exploring a new world without training wheels.

He wasn't lost too much, he's a 27 year old and some things came easy to understand.

He didn’t know what purpose he had left.They won the war and he had saved the city from being hit by the Valkyrie.

Everything was high tech compared to his time, electronics were a bit confusing to understand but he did find it fascinating that everything could be easily stored and done using a small square of a phone that you could bring easily anywhere .

… but what’s left for him when he has lost everything?

Bucky fell of the train,the Howling commandos were gone and it’s too late for him and Peggy.

He basically had nothing left to live for yet he's given a second chance that he didn't know what to do with.

He felt distraught that day when he was given their files, every single one of the Howling Commandos were marked deceased except Peggy’s.

He didn’t have the courage to call Peggy, he didn’t even know what he’d say in the first place.

' Hi, I'm not dead and I'm stuck in my 27 year old body????? I was stuck in the ice like a freaking popsicle Peggy! I'm sorry we never got our dance ... '

He’s all alone and absolutely out of place in the world he’s now forced to live in.

He felt like God was playing a cruel joke on him.

He would go out strolling and see everything has changed.

He just wanted to go back as that skinny guy from Brooklyn with his best pal.

Everyday he'd be at the gym assaulting gym bags as a way to let out his frustrations. He would work out until he feels breathless. On sunny days he'd go out walking, he'd eye the buildings in awe as they were more developed.

Today he sat outside a coffee shop where he only bought a single cup of coffee while he started drawing the building up front.

He would ride his motorcycle and feel the cold air, he'd close his eyes for a few seconds still imagining that he's back in the forties.

" good coffee? " you asked as you saw the cute guy that ordered a while ago that your co-worker assisted

" yeah, nice coffee " said Steve with a small smile

" good cause I made it " you humored

' seriously Rogers? niCe cOfFeE , he still didn't know how to talk to pretty girls '

If Bucky were here right now, he either would've stolen the girl or nagged him about how he should ask for her number, Steve thought not noticing you placing the cake on his table.

“ i didn't order any sweets, maam “ said Steve eyeing the small cake you gave him

It was a simple oreo cake with white frosting everywhere.

He saw how beautiful you were and is awestruck.

He couldn't help but feel he saw you before, maybe as he passed this very same shop.

“ i know you didnt but you seemed sad, no offense “ you said smiling as the man Infront of you smiled back

“ thanks, I guess i am kinda famished “ Steve said picking up the small fork to take a bite

He wouldn't say no to a cake given by a pretty dame

He wasn't that stupid

“ So waiting on the big guy? “

“ maam? “ he questions

“ iron man, lot of people eat here just to see him fly by “ you said pointing at the building he was drawing before you talked to him

“ maybe another time " said steve as he took the cake quickly in one bite that made you giggle seeing the frosting that was left in his lips

He felt hypnotized by your small laugh and the way you crunched your nose as you laughed.

He turned red thinking he made a fool of himself and quickly wiped of the extra frosting around his mouth.

“ table’s yours as long as you like,nobody’s waiting on it and plus we got free wireless “ you said as you started walking away wiping your hands on your apron

“ radio? “ the cute guy asked that just made you smile more thinking he was joking

“ ask for her number, you moron “ an old guy next to Steve asked as he shook his head

He walked away forgetting the sketchpad he brought, occupied with the thoughts of you and your laugh.

You returned outside to clean some tables and give out other people's orders.

He watched the trains go by, like the way years had gone in the blink of an eye.

You went to the cute guy's table and saw his forgotten notebook.

You tucked it under your arm as your hands held the tray filled with empty plates and cups with the clattering of some utensils as you moved.

You set down the sketchbook just to peek in case the guy that left wrote his name.

You opened it cautiously to the first page knowing artists like to be careful with their sketchbooks.

You were an art major yourself but in digital arts, you wanted to pursue a career in animation.

You liked drawing a lot too as a teenager, and painting but animation fascinated you.

The moving pictures that could tell any story you want it to, the magic of voice acting and sound effects making a movie without actually showing real people amazed you.

You loved disney films and ghibli animation, you loved the way even drawings can showcase complicated emotions.

S. Rogers

His first initial and surname were written on the small corner of the first page. A thing most people do even if they didn't draw, they'd put their initials or signature.

You did it too,with all your notebooks, your umbrella and even your books.

You couldn't help but flip the next pages getting mesmerized by the drawings the cute guy had.

You giggled seeing the monkey in an army like attire holding a shield, their were drawings of people – most of them looked as if they were from the military. They had helmets on or had the more professional uniforms with buttons and medals.

The more drawings you saw the more it felt wrong peeking at his masterpieces, you'd hate it too but you made the excuse in your head that you were just trying to find more information on the cute guy that left rather quickly that afternoon.

You sensed the sadness, emptiness of the drawings he had, maybe he missed these people, you thought while closing the notebook not wanting to pry into his privacy any longer.

You smiled as you walked home remembering the details of the cute guy's looks. He seemed nice and dorky, not like the guys that would just hit on you and expect you to say yes after some sweet talking.

You kept it safe in one of the drawers under the cashier hoping the cute blonde will show up again.

His ocean blue eyes made you blush, they felt so intimidating in a way that made you feel like your old 16 year old self.

It was infatuation at first sight, his outfit making him look old fashioned but still dashing.

You wanted to be the one to always put a smile on his face if it looked as pretty as the one he gave you just hours ago.

You wanted to pass your finger through his blonde locks that you'd bet were as soft as clouds.

You couldn't miss his broad shoulders and thick figure.

You found yourself crushing on the mysterious cute guy that left his sketchbook.

You felt giddy as you slept thinking of the same pair of ocean blue eyes.

[something-fanfiction-ie]

The Years

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: *SMUT* So you embarrass yourself in front of Derek and Spencer, the details of the case are mentioned and are a little intense, and smut. Like, rough, Spencer smut because there is nothing you can say that could convince me that Spencer Reid is a bottom. And swearing.

A/N: AH THE ENDING PROBABLY SUCKS BUT I TRIED REALLY HARD I PROMISE. Also, this is ridiculously long and not all of it is smut. For a hot second this WAS an OC story but I thought you guys would enjoy a self-insert more so I changed it. LOTS AND LOTS OF THANKS TO MY FAV FIC WRITER AND NEW TUMBLR FRIENDS, @reidmorefanfics and @pomsephone Y’all are the best. Also, remember to shower me in reblogs, comments, asks, messages, likes, and anything else you can think of to boost my ego. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!!!

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“Actually, that reminds me of a joke that I know.” At the front of the crowded lecture hall, a young Dr. Spencer Reid looks over at his partner eagerly, a smile already splitting his lips apart. Derek Morgan, however, looks over at his partner with a mixture of fear and secondhand embarrassment.

“Reid, I don’t think-” Morgan tries to save him, he really does, but Reid tucks his hair behind his ears and ignores him by starting the joke.

“Einstein, Heisenberg, Newton, and Pascal are playing hide and seek. Einstein covers his eyes and begins counting. While Heisenberg and Pascal run off and hide, Newton takes out some chalk and marks a square on the ground with a side length of exactly 1 meter, then sits down inside the square. When Einstein is finished counting and sees Newton sitting on the ground, he yells, "Ha, I've found you, Newton!". Newton however replies, "No you haven't! You've found Pascal!’”

A short, surprised laugh joins Spencer’s small chuckles, dragging his eyes to the location the sound had come from. Derek looks too, completely taken aback that anyone other than Reid had actually understood the joke. Yet, lo and behold, a young girl sitting in the front row with her cheeks stoplight red and her hand nervously covering her mouth.

Proudly, Spencer nods for Morgan to end the talk, his chest a little puffed out and a smug smile twitching at his lips. They wrap things up quickly, eager to grab some food after leaving campus and before heading back to the BAU.

When Spencer turns to gather his things, grabbing his bag, he notices the soft shuffle of feet against the hardwood flooring of the stage. A pair of black converse peek into his peripheral vision, attached to a pair of long legs that make Spencer blush for noticing at all. Lifting his eyes further, he meets the shy gaze of the only person who had laughed at his joke. It came as no surprise when he sees that your tee shirt had a picture of a cat with the words ‘Wanted: Dead and Alive’ in block lettering.

“Dr. Reid,” Your left hand comes up to push a stray lock of hair away from your face, a single gold band wrapped around your left index finger, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I just, uhm, I had a couple questions?”

Looping the strap of his bag over his head and letting the familiar weight of it settle against his hip before he responds, Spencer ignores the way Derek looks at him by pretending he isn’t there at all.

“Of course,” Spencer meets your eyes, which are a beautiful shade of (y/e/c). “I like the shirt by the way. I’m not usually much of a t-shirt person, but I might wear one like that.” You laugh, shifting on your feet and twisting the ring on your finger.

“Thank you, I got it as a Christmas present. Along with ten billion other nerdy t-shirts. But uhm, I was curious how old you were when you joined the FBI?” Morgan holds his tongue, pretending to shuffle papers around and not pay attention to the poor girl’s crush.

“I was twenty-two. I finished two of my doctorates the year prior.”

“I thought you had to be twenty-three? I’ve always wanted to join the FBI as soon as I could but I thought I had a little more time. That’s what I read anyways. I could be wrong, you would know more than I do.” You looked down at your shoes, kicking the toe of one converse into the wood, your hair falling forward over your shoulders.

“No, you’re right. I had an age waiver. You’re eighteen? Nineteen? You’ve still got some time to prepare.”

“I’m seventeen, actually.” Your lips skewed to the side, the confession barely above a whisper as you continued to stare at your feet. Spencer blanched, unable to contain his surprise. He was quick to school his features, though, when you finally looked back at him.

“You’re seventeen and you understood his joke?” Morgan couldn’t help but cut in now, stepping away from the table he’d been pushing papers around on and toward the two younger people left in the room.

“A pascal is a unit of measurement equal to one Newton per square meter. By sitting in a square meter, Newton was being one newton per square meter. Which is, again, equal to a pascal. So he was Pascal.” A smile had worked it’s way past the nerves that jumped around your body. You weren’t very used to talking to young, attractive, intelligent doctors who worked for the FBI.

“Although, even if I hadn’t understood the science behind the joke I might have still laughed. You see, there is this thing called the Halo Effect, which is basically a cognitive bias you might develop based on your initial impression of someone that can change how you feel about their specific traits. Essentially, one example would be that someone you find attractive may seem funnier or more intelligent simply because you find them attractive.”

It takes all of a second for your face to turn beat red as you realizes your nervous ramblings have made you reveal the silly crush you had started to develop on the young doctor. Derek’s lips purse in amusement when he sees the similar shade of red that has colored his partner’s cheeks.

“Not that I’m saying I find you attractive,” Your heart stops cold in your chest and you are quick to retract the statement. “Not to say you’re ugly either, because that’s not what I’m trying to say at all. Just that my first impression of you as a nice and attr- I mean, intelligent man could have very well made my amusement slightly biased because I was more willing to like you based solely on my first impression of you. Which was that you are very nice and, and intelligent.”

It takes all the willpower in the world for you not to throw yourself down the stairwell later that day, the embarrassment having barely faded even hours later. The two men had been quick to assure you they knew you weren’t saying you had a crush on Dr. Reid, but they were obviously just trying to protect your feelings. They wouldn’t be FBI Profilers if they couldn’t tell you had a crush on him. The conversation was pretty much over after that, you being suddenly desperate to make an escape and Dr. Reid just as eager to leave the campus grounds.

The whole team teased him about his teenage fan for months after it happened, Derek had been quick to let everyone know when they came back. Reid had tried to hide from them by scrunching down into his seat and covering his face with a book, but it hadn’t helped him at all.

Eventually though, both you and Spencer were able to move on from the embarrassing moment, though neither of you forgot it. Those moments where you’re all alone and the most embarrassing moments of your life come to creep up and embarrass you all over again? The memory always came back during those moments.

The team, however, seemed to forget about it, Gideon and Elle leaving and Rossi and Prentiss replacing them as the years faded the memory for them.

It wasn’t until JJ took her new position at the Pentagon and Ashley left after her brief consultation on the case in New Mexico that the memory came back to truly haunt you both.

The whole team had heard whispers of a ‘probationary agent’ that would be stepping in to assist wherever needed. Hotch was good at keeping quiet and avoiding questions on the matter, somehow keeping Penelope just as much out of the loop as the rest of the team.

No one was even sure when the new agent was supposed to be coming until the glass doors to the BAU opened and in stepped a young woman with (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes. Derek squinted his eyes, your face tickling the back of his memory in a way that annoyed him. Spencer tensed, his eidetic memory quick to remind him of the seventeen year old girl that had basically confessed she thought he was cute, and then called him ‘not ugly’ to try and cover her tracks.

“Agent (Y/L/N), nice to finally meet you.” Hotch said, holding the door open as you nodded your thanks and slipped inside his office with a box in your arms.

“That must be the probationary agent.” Prentiss directed the comment at Reid, oblivious to the resurfaced embarrassment that boiled his cheeks to that same shade of red he’d been in that lecture hall seven years ago. He kept his book up in front of his face while he tried to cool his cheeks, looking over the top of the binding and into Hotch’s window.

You’re sitting ram-rod straight in the seat in front of Hotch’s desk that is closest to the door, your box of things clutched tightly in your white-knuckled hands. Your hair is still the same length, swaying at your shoulders. You’ve switched the Schrödinger’s cat shirt for a deep velvet red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled at your elbows.

But even with the obvious nerves displayed in your current body language, it’s easy to see you aren’t the same stuttering seventeen year old Reid remembers. You holds steady eye contact with Hotch, nodding and fluidly responding in such a way that the usually stoic unit chief actually breaks into a grin that dimples his cheeks. When he stretches over his desk for a handshake, your left hand comes up and grips Hotch’s firmly.

“I’m glad it’s a girl, it was starting to feel a little too testosteronie around here with JJ gone.” Garcia had made her way into the bullpen, a cup of tea balanced in her bejeweled fingers as she, and the rest of the team, size up the girl heading for Hotch’s door.

“I don’t think ‘testosteronie’ is a word, baby girl.” Derek teases, trying to ignore the nagging feelings that he knows this girl from somewhere. Maybe they’d met on a case? But no, that doesn’t feel right.

“It is now, Derek. Don’t argue with me or I’ll have to punish you.” She brings the lip of her cup up, sipping at the lukewarm tea still inside and patting Morgan’s cheek with her free hand. Hotch’s door finally opens again and you step out after Aaron.

A hush falls over the room, all eyes trained to the newest and now youngest member of the team.

“We’ll do introductions on the plane, for now I need everyone in the conference room for a case.” Hotch is quick to make eye contact with everyone, his gaze stern and demanding.

Spencer is the last one into the room, practically dragging his feet to one of the chairs around the circle table. Thankfully, you were sitting across the table. Somehow you haven’t seemed to notice him.

“Yesterday Dawes County police found the body of Julia Hastings along a hiking trail in Kladon. This is the second body they have found in the area in two weeks, the first belonging to Heather Greenaway. Both victims are in their early to mid twenties. Hands and feet bound, buried face down. Each victim was struck once in the back of the head, making cause of death blunt force trauma.”

From your spot at the table, you glance up with narrowed eyes as you open the file you’d been given at the beginning of the meeting.

“Where did they disappear from?” Reid asks, a connection forming in his brain as each picture and detail flies up from Garcia’s tablet and onto the projected pictures before them.

“Night clubs around the area, they were working on the night they each went missing. Both girls were bartenders, had been working at their new jobs a week before they were kidnapped.”

“Justin Millers had the same M.O., kidnapping new female bartenders fitting this exact victimology and holding them hostage for a course of five days, beating and raping them before eventually hitting them on the back of the head with a tire iron.” You don’t look up from the file as you speak, flipping through the pictures and quickly noticing the small odd similarities in the victims between this case and Millers’ case.

“Millers has been locked away for a year and a half.” Derek pointed out, using the opportunity to stare at the face of the girl he was sure he knew but still couldn’t place. When you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed in a way that reminds him of Reid and your head tilted just a little to the side, he can feel his brain grab onto the memory just before it slips back through his fingers.

“I’d guess a copycat. Something seems different, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Your gaze slides over the table, looking at faces to get a gauge of their opinions on you. When you make eye contact with Reid, your eyes widen just a little before you duck your head. You should have known he was still here at the BAU, you’d only hoped he’d went to another unit out of desperation for this job.

“We’ll look into that theory, for now I just want a profile as if this unsub is working from his own killing preferences. We’ll discuss more on the way there. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch stands, flipping the cover over the top of his iPad before making his way out of the room. Go bags are grabbed, certain persons avoid bumping into other certain persons, and then the eight hour plane ride to Kladon, Nebraska begins.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Emily tests the name on her lips, having chosen to move by the younger girl after the fourty five minute theory discussion that started the plane ride.

“You can call me (Y/N/N), that’s what my best friend calls me.” You had popped the first two buttons open of your dress shirt and slipped your shoes off to tuck your feet underneath you. Tucked between your thigh and the arm of the seat is a book with a Greek title, in your hands is the open case file.

“Just your best friend?” Rossi asks from across the way, just as curious about the new girl as the rest of them, but a little better at hiding it.

“She’s really my only friend.” You shrug, but not in such a way that you seem bothered by the fact. You reach up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. Reid notices the gold ring that still circles your left index finger, light coming from the window glinting off the metal when you move. It’s the only jewelry you wears.

“A bit of a loner?” Derek joins the conversation, moving up the aisle of the jet with a cup of something hot cradled in his hands. He takes the seat directly in front of you, blowing at the liquid in his cup.

“I was more focused on getting through school than making friends. Emma just happened to be the only person who wouldn’t let me shake her.” There’s a smile on your lips as you talk about your best friend, your eyes soft.

“What did you go to college for?” Derek is fishing, looking for something to tell him where he knows you from. It amuses Reid, who has sequestered himself into a corner a little further away from you than everyone else.

“I have a masters in philosophy, with a focus in Ancient Greek philosophy. I have a bachelor’s in Greek, which is the only other living language I can speak and read outside of English, and I have two doctorates; one in Classic Studies and one in Criminology.” Rossi whistles, shaking his head and leaning back into his seat to express what everyone else is feeling.

“You young people just keep getting smarter and smarter. You know how many doctorates I had at your age? None. You know how many I have now?” You look at him with genuine curiosity, drinking in all the information you can about the people around you like it was a class you were taking to survive.

“None.” The laugh that bubbles from your lips is infectious and carefree, it pulls Reid’s attention away from his book and it drags Hotch from the constant state of worry that he mentally paces in. Emily, Derek, and Rossi all exchange looks before their own laughter fills the air. It’s nice.

The feeling reminds you of that scene in Mary Poppins where Dick Van Dyke and Ed Wynn laugh themselves into the ceiling. So light and carefree that it could lift them into the sky.

“Why all the attention on the Greek?” Prentiss manages when the laughter subsides, reaching down for the book the young doctor has tucked away. Η φόνισσα, it reads with a black and white picture of arms twisted to the side of the bookcover. You make no move to grab for it, letting the other woman flip through the pages.

“My father was a Greek Philosophy professor before he died, I suppose it’s my way of trying to stay close to him.” Prentiss looks up from the pages, a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“And your mother?” The change in your entire demeanor is like cold water on the conversation, freezing the group in their spots. You reach for the book, tucking it back into the space between your thigh and the seat.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only blatant lie you’ve told since they started talking to you, averting your eyes and shifting in your seat. No one presses the topic, giving the new girl the space you need.

You take the case file with you when you go to make a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette situated in the back of the plane. Reid is already back there, pouring a steady stream of sugar into the otherwise black liquid.

“Dr. Reid.” You nod your head in greeting, avoiding his eyes by setting your folder on the counter and pretending to read it. You’ve been going over every detail of the case for so long that you’ve memorized everything there is to know. There are notes and theories scribbled into the margins and little sticky notes with questions scattered around the papers.

“It helps to step away for a little bit, that way when we land you come back to it with fresh eyes.” The utensils drawer clicks shut as Reid grabs a spoon to stir his coffee, risking the chance to finally look at you.

You’re twisting the ring on your finger and chewing the inside of your cheek. Without your shoes on, the top of your head comes to his shoulders.

When you look up at him, (y/e/c) eyes thoughtful and just as curious as the day they met, Reid can’t fight the urge that draws his gaze to your lips. The skin there is so very soft looking, surprising him when the thought of kissing them hits him like a train.

He clears his throat, focusing all of his attention on the coffee cup in front of him. The sugar is completely stirred in at this point, but he kind of wants to stay in the hopes that you’ll strike up a conversation.

“But everyone is different so you don’t have to listen to me, just do whatever helps you.” His shoulders lift in a shrug and he’s glad that nobody is there to see him interact with this girl. They would know how he felt before he could even come to terms with it himself.

As quickly as you are there, you leave. Completely flustered and unsure how to go about navigating a relationship that’s foundation was an unintentional love confession. Maybe, you thought as you leaned into your seat and closed your eyes, if I just ignore him then everything will be fine.

By the time the jet touched down in Nebraska, you had fallen into a dead sleep with your book sitting open in your lap. Emily was the one to reach out and gently shake your shoulder, the smile on her face gentle and motherly. Still blinking away sleep, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and book before rushing for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, the shoe laces on one of your shoes hadn’t been completely tied. Add that to the speed in which you were trying to separate yourself from Reid, and you managed to trip over your feet and right into the person you were trying to avoid.

Your bag hit the ground, the book following suit as a warm hand grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled. When you collided with someone’s chest, you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Reid smelled like old books, laundry detergent, and cinnamon.

“Your shoe is untied.” He said, his voice rumbling in his chest. You didn’t look up, afraid the heat in your cheeks would give you away. You looked down instead, noticing the way your feet were inside the breadth of his stance. One shoe’s laces laid precariously around your foot as if mocking you. Quickly, you took a step away and almost tripped again on your bag. You caught yourself on one of the seats, holding a hand out to keep Reid from grabbing you again.

“Thank you, I’m okay. Really.” You didn’t meet his eyes, every lewd thought you’d had during that stupid lecture about his lips and hands and hair came rushing back at you with every glance. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could see each fantasy written on your face like a lusty, ten-cent romance novel.

Morgan, having stopped to watch the two doctors in your clearly flustered states, suddenly felt it click in his brain. Sure, you were older and not as squirrelly as he remembered, but the way you were looking at his partner was nearly the exact same as you had seven years ago.

Feeling smug for finally figuring it out, he walked up to Spencer with his bag thrown over his shoulder, stopping beside him as they both watched you rush for the exit.

“Can you imagine someone having a crush on you for seven years? Oh, wait.” Bending down to grab his bag, Spencer shook his head in such a way that a few loose curls tangled on his eyelashes. A simple sweep of his hand across his face helped to push it away.

“It took you long enough to figure it out.” Spencer took the lead, dreading the car ride with Derek to the medical examiners. He had been hoping his older partner wouldn’t remember who you were, at least, until the case was solved.

“Oh ho ho, don’t think you can avoid this conversation with insults, pretty boy.” Morgan was hot on his tail, and that was exactly where he stayed for the next three days that the team was in Nebraska.

The killer was, in fact, a massive fan of the infamous Justin Millers. It was just a matter of pinpointing which of the crazy fanatics he was, which might have been easier if the local populace was more open to talking to law enforcement.

It was by a brilliant stroke of luck, or rather misfortune, that the team realized sending you undercover would help on many different levels. Not only did you fit the victimology, (all they needed to do was get you a ‘job’ at one of the local bars) but you would also be able to get information from the civilians that were unwilling to talk to the FBI.

Four days into your undercover mission, you found yourself wiping down the counter after closing. The band was packing up their equipment on stage and your boss had already left. Laily, the only other bartender here tonight, was flirting with the drummer while you closed things up behind the counter.

As was customary, the members of your team had taken turns following you around everyday just in case anything happened. Today just so happened to be Spencer’s turn, you’d managed to slip him into the back room before all the customers had left for the night. It was the only reason you gave Laily the okay when she asked if you would be cool closing by yourself tonight.

“I can’t believe after five years of college, I’m back to bartending.” You grumbled, shouldering the backroom door open with a box full of beer in your hands. Spencer jumped up from the crate he’d been leaning against, holding the back of the door open so you could get in a little easier.

“You were a bartender before?” He asked curiously, trying to ignore the way the low-cut black uniform shirt you were wearing fit against your figure and twisted his insides. Factor in the tight jeans that hung on your hips and the sheen of sweat on your skin from the hot summer night and he could barely focus, let alone protect you from any possible threats.

“The years between my college graduation and my joining the FBI, yeah. I could have done something different, I guess, but I wanted to have a normal young adult job before I spent the rest of my life chasing serial killers and such.” You turned to face him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time this week.

Unlike you, he was wearing his FBI Kevlar. The navy blue tie that he wore was tucked into the top of it, the baby blue sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up around his elbows. You, yourself, were having an awful time trying to keep from getting all kinds of flustered just looking at him.

The young profiler you remember was all wiry and clean cut, the man in front of you is more scraggly. His hair curls around his jawline and his forearms are far more attractive than anybody’s forearms ought to be.

His parents were just showing off, casually bringing a child into the world that looks like that.

“I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He blurted, surprising himself. You could tell by the way his brows dipped down and he took a step back immediately after saying it. Even his cheeks were a little pink.

“What happened between us was like seven years ago and all you did was tell me you had a crush on me. And then take it back. I just don’t want it to affect our work relationship because everyone already likes you a lot and I want to get the chance to like you as well.” For someone who always seems so very shy and awkward, his eyes look directly into yours, narrowing just a little. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and turns all of your bones to jelly underneath you.

He just ages like fine wine and you know that, should you be offered a permanent position at the BAU, that you would have to spend the rest of your working days keeping yourself in check while the man in front of you continued to evolve into a more gorgeous version of himself every year. The Spencer you remember had felt like peak Spencer, now this Spencer felt like peak Spencer, but who is to say that five years from now, when he decides to grow a little stubble and style his hair differently, that he wouldn’t somehow get even more attractive?

You open your mouth to come up with some bullshit answer that you didn’t really mean in order to smooth things over, when the door opens again. Spencer, standing directly infront of said door, looks not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a truck barreling right at him going way too fast on a backroad.

Time crawls at an unusual pace, the door slowly creaking open and Laily’s voice filtering in the opening. Why did he have to wear that stupid vest? Surely the FBI has bullet proof vests you could wear under your clothing. The only idea you could come up with was, honestly, not a very good one. But it was the only one you had.

Practically launching yourself across the room, you catch Spencer’s lips against your own like the world depends on it. Using your own hands, you position Spencer’s arms around you with one hand on the back of your head and the other grabbing underneath your leg that hooks around his waist. The vest uncomfortably digs into your chest with how close your bodies are against one another, your arms now thrown around his neck, but if he keeps kissing you like this then you’ll be inclined to ignore it.

Just seconds ago he had been begging you to have a normal relationship despite your silly ‘past’ crush, now his tongue was fighting for dominance in your mouth. The irony was not lost on you.

“Oh.” Laily gasps a little when she sees you in such a compromising position. The lights from the bar illuminating every detail so that she could see the way Spencer’s fingers desperately tangled in the strands of your hair or how the muscles in his forearm strained as he hungrily pulled your body even closer than before.

The blush on your cheeks and neck are real when you pull your lips away, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach when Spencer catches your bottom lip in between his teeth for just a second. The look in his eyes is devilish when you tilt your head over your shoulder to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry Laily, this is my boyfriend, Lance. I just- I heard about all those girls that have been going missing and I asked if he would drive me home.” The look in your coworkers eyes is all you need to know that this does not look like just a ride home. Although, it very well could have led to a ride somewhere if she had been just a handful of minutes slower.

“Nice to meet you, Lance. Gwen, I’ll see you tomorrow. Just,” the mischievous twinkle in her eyes does not go unnoticed by the two doctors in the room still tangled around each other, “maybe clock out before things get anymore heated.” She teases, the tone of her voice suggesting that you will be hearing more of this tomorrow.

“Bye, Laily!” The door clicks shut behind her, followed by the chuckles and giggles of Laily and the band as they leave for the night. You relax into Spencer’s arms, moving as if to pull out of them before they tense around you.

“We should be safe now.” You whisper, looking up into his eyes that burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in them before. That damn tongue sweeps across those perfect lips again, drawing your attention and reminding you that you now know what they feel like locked with yours.

“I think I hear somebody coming.” He whispers back, aware that you can both hear the soft bang of the front door closing and locking shut from the outside. Since the killings, the door was always locked if employees were still inside, as a safety precaution. Nobody else was coming in tonight unless they had a key.

Your lips meet his anyways, too tired to pretend that the heat between you wasn’t there. If this was the excuse he needed to kiss you, then you were all the more willing to give it to him. His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, causing them to open against his mouth and deepen the kiss.

Both of his wide hands splay against your hips, curling into the soft skin there and pulling you toward him with such force that you nearly trip. The hard edges of his Kevlar vest dig into your ribs and collarbone, the rough material scratching against your exposed skin as you push yourself up on your toes. When he breaks from the kiss, both of you gasping for air not from the length of it by from the passion, it is not to end your tryst.

His lips find the pulse at your neck, sucking a bruise at the soft skin there and pulling a moan from deep within your chest.

“Won’t- Won’t Morgan and Prentiss get worried,” your brain feels like the motherboard of a computer that Spencer has taken into his hands and slammed into a countertop, you can’t think when his teeth nip a love bite to the hickey he’s made on your neck, “if we, uhm, we take too long?”

If you thought the Spencer you met seven years ago was different from the Spencer you knew now, it was only because you’d never seen his bright hazel brown eyes darken with lust from beneath those impossibly long golden lashes. He was a completely different person as he unstrapped himself from the Kevlar, laying it on the floor with a solid thunk before gathering you back into his arms.

“They’ll be okay,” He said in between kisses trailed along your jawline. His movements are confident as he dips a hand down the front of your jeans and into your underwear. Your arms tighten around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck when his fingers find the already wet entrance to your sex. His answering growl does nothing to keep you from coming undone as he presses the pad of his thumb to the bundle of nerves there. “I’m guessing it won’t be long before I have you in the palm of my hands, anyways.”

You rock your hips into him, your eyes fluttering shut with a gasp when he thrusts two long fingers inside of you. His other arm is wrapped around the center of your back, holding you to him because lord knows you can’t be trusted on your own two feet at a moment like this.

“Is this why you planned on ignoring me? Because you wouldn’t be able to handle it if I didn’t give you this?” You whimper a response, too focused on the relentless pace he has set with his fingers to come up with anything coherent. Everything about the moment is raw and animalistic, every fantasy you’d had about him during the fifty minute lecture did not even begin to touch on the feeling of his hand actually inside of you.

“Spencer, please.” You whined, dropping your arms from his shoulders and gripping onto his biceps like it will keep your soul from leaving your body. Yet, as heavenly as this felt, and as much as it exceeded your fantasies, you wanted more. Every part of you craved the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, sticky with sweat and feverish to the touch.

On a tight time constraint, Spencer doesn’t make you beg anymore than that. Instead, he delights in the way you cry out when he pulls his hand out of your pants and up to his lips. Your own lips part with a tiny popping sound when you watch him put those same fingers into his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Strip.” He commands, licking the taste of you off his lips and leisurely working at the knot of his tie. You don’t waste a second in crossing your arms over your body to pull the black material over your head and drop it at your feet. Next to come off is your shoes, clattering across the wooden floor when you kick them to the side.

By the time you make it to your pants, Spencer has only undone a quarter of the navy blue buttons on his shirt.

“I need you now, Spencer.” The buttons slip through your fingers, your hands shaking with excitement more than nerves. Although, the nerves are definitely apart of it. Never in a million years did you think you would be here; in the backroom of a bar in Nebraska, with Spencer Reid doing salacious things to you. While on your first case with the BAU, nontheless.

Doing a complete one-eighty, his hands come up to cover your own just before the last button comes undone. His touch is gentle and prompts you to look up into his coffee colored eyes. The light from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling is no good, and yet somehow he manages to look like a piece of artwork painted by the most skilled hand known to mankind.

“We don’t have to do this here. We don’t have to do this at all, if you don’t want to.” You squint your eyes up at him, using your fingernail to pop the last button through the hole on the other side of the shirt. When you let go, the pieces fall away from his chest like he’s caught in slow motion on a Calvin Klein commercial.

“I said I needed you now, not later.” In response, he scoops you into his arms and wraps your legs around his hips. The electricity that pops and crackles between you is nearly visible in the dimly lit room, the fabric of your bra skimming against his collarbone when you breath.

The little whines and whimpers that fall from your lips are driving Spencer crazy, forcing him to push through the door and lower you to a shorter countertop meant for making drinks. Tonight it would be used for other, more wicked things.

“Someone’s a bit excited.” You breathed. There was no way you could take a full breath in a moment like this. Everything was so heated and yet nothing was really happening.

“Shut the fuck up.” And then he was kissing you, his lips warm against your own. Despite the fact that you didn’t think it was possible, he pulled you closer. You knitted your fingers into his curls and gave them a slight tug. God, you loved these curls.

He began sucking a heated trail down your throat, quite possibly leaving a pathway of hickeys. You would be putting makeup over them for at least thirty minutes before you left your hotel room tomorrow, but for now they were heavenly fire against your skin.

Spencer took away his lips long enough to strip from his remaining clothes and throw them over his shoulder. When he stood in front of you looking like a Roman god, bared to no one but yourself, it made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“I’m so in love with your body.” He groaned just before his lips found your breast, sucking on your nipple. Your head fell back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fumbled for a moment, patting around the countertop before your brain turned on long enough to get your hand between your legs and down to his naked erection.

He moaned into your breast as you began to move your hand. He let go of your boob and went straight back up to your mouth. His whole body was tensed up but his lips were soft as they parted against against your lips. The whole world felt like it was on fire, and his every touch was another lick of flames.

You move your hand faster, enjoying every groan and grunt and moan that finds it’s way out of his mouth and into yours. He’s already close to orgasm, you can tell by the way he breaks from the kiss, your foreheads pressed together and your breath stirring in the small space between your faces. His grip is tight when he grabs your wrist to make you stop.

“No.” Every nerve and thought and feeling was consumed by you and everything else short-circuited. Spencer couldn’t get the words out of his mouth to properly express what he wanted, it wasn’t often that the young genius was rendered speechless.

But you knew, you knew that he wanted to be inside of you. You knew that because you wanted him inside of you just as much, if not more, than he did. You shift your hips around on the counter, getting closer to the edge as you widen your legs.

“I’m on the pill.” You whisper, watching the sudden realization that he hadn’t come prepared widen his eyes for just a small fraction of a second. Just as quickly, the fear turns into that devlish grin you weren’t aware someone so beautifully shy and awkward could possess.

“Thank you, Pincus, Sanger, and McCormick.” You barely have time to question the comment, although later you’ll realize he’s probably talking about three of the minds behind the invention of the birth control pill. No longer taking his time, Spencer positions himself right at your entrance before running the tip of his cock along your wet folds.

“Fuck!” He slams into you, running his entire length into your body, hitting depths you didn’t even realize had never been touched until he was thrusting against them. It sends a wave of pleasure through every cell in your body as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like you’re running out of oxygen.

He holds onto your hips as he repeatedly rams his hips into yours. He has buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting every curse and moan muffle into your skin. The glasses under the counter jangle with every merciless thrust inside you. The sharp bite of his nails digging into your hips makes you hiss, but it’s more from pleasure than pain.

There’s no dirty talking anymore. Every ounce of pretend you both go through while around one another is shed like seconds skins, leaving two people so hungry for each other that it had been too much to bare.

Your fingers are twisted around the short curls at the nape of his neck and your teeth are biting into the solid muscle at his shoulder. The bar always had whiffs of sex and sweat in the air that mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume, but now it was the strongest scent in the room.

Even as your orgasm starts to build in your belly, you want more. You want to hold him so close that your brain wouldn’t be able to distinguish where you ended and he began. Letting go of his shoulder, your head lolls back and your own nails draw long lines of red down his neck.

“Spencer!” His name leaves your lips in a mix of a sob and a moan, the ecstasy of just his touch alone driving you higher and higher. The sting of his nails leave your hips, one hand reaching to the place where your connected and the other coming up to grip your jaw in his hand.

His thumb rubs against the little button of pleasure that causes your legs to start to tingle like they’ve been asleep for too long. All the while, he ruthless pace doesn’t falter. Sweat sticks a few of his curls to his temples, providing a beautiful glowing effect across the smooth planes and angles of his shoulders and collarbones.

He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss that ends much too quickly for your taste, but you can feel the rapid exhalation of his breaths as it fans across your cheek.

“Come.” Usually a man of so many words, you had always assumed it would be the same in his sex life. Maybe it was true in most cases, but right now his desire to see you succumb to the pleasure of him inside of you outweighs the need to taunt and tease you with words.

Meeting his eyes, getting off on the smug look that twists his lips as much as you are getting off on his dick actually inside of you, you let yourself fall into the sweet release of your orgasm. Spencer doesn’t stop as you come around him, instead he quickens the pace as his own release works its way to the edge.

Your legs are still shaking when he buries himself into you with one final thrust, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He chases the sting of his teeth away with the softness of the kiss that follows, loosing himself in the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Neither of you move, although he ends the kiss to gasp for air with your foreheads once again pressed against each other. His eyes are closed, the dark pink on his cheeks and neck making him look so much younger than he was. You keep your eyes open, trying to drink in every second and commit it to your memory the way it would forever be in his.

When he steps away, leaving you feeling much more empty than you’d felt in a really long time, the cocktail of your orgasms spill down the inside of your thighs. Suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, you slip off the counter with your arm wrapped around your bared breasts.

The air seems too cold, the bar too quiet, and your mind was too loud with insecurities as you tried to steady yourself on wobbly knees. Nevertheless, you attempt to make a beeline for the backroom door. If you go and put your clothes back on then maybe you could go back to pretending like he doesn’t exist and everything will be fine.

That is until one of those solidly handsome arms come out to stop you in your pursuit of denial.

He’s still naked, standing next to you like a statue carved by the hands of Michaelangelo himself. Although, you aren’t sure the renissance artist would sculpt nail marks into his skin, the signs of your heated escapade only darkening with time. You can only imagine what your own neck looks like, several spots of sensitive skin still overly stimulated from his wandering mouth.

From your vantage point, you can see his swollen lips open to say something, probably that this had been a mistake, when his phone rings from the pair of pants he’d so carelessly thrown to the floor earlier. A small frown mars his angelic features, the side of his mouth twitching with aggravation.

His lips on yours are a surprise you weren’t expecting, despite the sexual encounter you’d just had. This kiss speaks more words than he could ever possibly say, easing all the post-coital dysphoria that comes with the sudden fall from the high you’d been on. It’s gentle and warm, the hand on your arm squeezes reassuredly before he breaks away with one last peck to your forehead. It nearly tears your beating heart out of your chest.

“Come to my hotel room later.” And then he bends down to snag the phone from his pants with an aggravated growl, turning away from you as he lies through his teeth to a worried Prentiss on the other end.

In the backroom, having shimmied back into your pants and going to put your shirt back over your head, you fingers find your lips. They’re just a little swollen, exactly like his, but you wonder if he can still feel that final kiss against them the way that you could.

Oh boy, were you in trouble.

[butwhyduh]

A Date to Remember

Damian Wayne x Superman’s daughter reader

Damian is 20, reader 19, Jon is her little brother at 18 and Kon acts like an older brother to her.

Warning: angsty and kidnapping

You’d always told Damian that the sunset on the Kent farm was the best in the world. Damian smiled a little as he drove down the long road to Smallville. Damian had thought about classic dinner date in one of Metropolis’ fanciest restaurants but you insisted on meeting him in a barn.

He felt underdressed. Blue jeans and a flannel shirt. Why did he let Jon help him get dressed? He felt ridiculous but at least he wore sensible shoes. But deep down Damian knew you world like it. And he was certainly willing to feel a little foolish for you.

Clark was off world and Lois was on a mission. Jon had his own date in the city so it was the both of you alone tonight. How long had it been since the two of you were alone without someone around? Between his half a dozen brothers and your family with literal super hearing... yeah it’s been tough. So being 50 miles from everyone was kind of a dream.

Damian pulled in the driveway with some flowers and walked up to the house. He knocked on the door only for it to swing open. Damian noticed the splintered door frame and his heart sped up. He called your name. Act like the rich billionaire son while working like Robin, even though he wasn’t quite sure he still wanted the name.

He scanned every surface and he noticed a small scratch near the back door after looking through every room. Most people wouldn’t even notice it. You weren’t there. He looked closely and saw drag marks in the gravel path to the barn. His heart was thundering at this point. You weren’t in the barn either.

You were half Kryptonian but the genetic inheritance was complicated. Jon had won the lottery with having most of his father’s powers and not being as sensitive to Kryptonite. You had lost it. Hypersensitive to Kryptonite and only some speed and increased hearing and strength. Barely about the average human. You weren’t a fighter.

Damian pulled out his phone to call Jon.

“Bit busy here, Damian,” Jon said, sounding far from amused. Damian could hear kissing noises in the background and frowned. He didn’t want to hear that.

“Your sister is missing,” he said and he heard a lot of movement on the phone.

“What??”

“The door jam was kicked in and there are scrap marks of her being dragged away. I think she’s been kidnapped,” Damian said. His voice felt tight. He, son of Batman, let his girlfriend get kidnapped. “Whoever it was clearly waited until she had no other Kryptonians around to grab her. It wasn’t a coincidence that she was taken tonight. Can you get out here? I’m calling father to try and trace her. Her phone is missing too.”

“I’m leaving in 5. Damian, if Luther has her, she can’t handle Krytonite,” Jon said, worry bleeding into his voice. “It’s like it poisons her.”

“I know. But we don’t know who has her. Let’s hope they don’t know she’s part Krytonian,” Damian said, already mentally moving on to his next step. Contact Bruce. Get the bat computer to trace her. Look for more evidence. Don’t freak out completely that she might be poisoned by Kyrotonite.

“Okay. I’m about to fly. I’ll see you soon,” Jon said before hanging up.

——————————

You woke up with a cough. You head throbbed and your stomach rolled as you laid in a bed? Maybe a couch? It was a horrible feeling but you knew exactly what it was: Kryptonite. You couldn’t forget what how that stuff made you feel. You tried to look around to see it but the room was completely dark. Night vision would be nice but you got human eyes. Your slightly enhanced hearing heard nothing but the wind outside. Okay, you were ground level or higher.

You tried to twist in the cuffs that bound your hands only to cry out. There was the Kryptonite. It was on the outside of the cuffs and you almost threw up at it touched your skin. You were cuffed with Kryptonite to a hospital bed, you figured. What other bed had areas perfect for cuffs? Your legs were equally restrained and you felt so exposed in the dark room.

Your dad was off world. He wouldn’t hear you if you called for him. But Jon might. But if you yelled, someone might come in and who knows what they would do. You’d wait a little bit longer. You wanted to fall asleep. The Kryptonite made you feel so dull. Like the first time you were exposed to it.

You were all of 4 years old. Your dad had brought you with him to the Justice League meeting. Relatively safe and Batman promised Robin would watch you. Dick was so excited to be a babysitter. You had hugged him tight enough to hurt before running to the climbing wall.

“Hey!” Called the 16 year old. “I brought games instead!”

You warily walked back over to him and card games and board games fell out of a duffle bag as he opened it. Half the stuff you were far too young for. You bent down as he scooped up his gameboy. You pulled out some games and open a side pocket to grab a small metal box. Dick sat down his gameboy carefully before turning back to you.

“Don’t open th-“ he started before you pulled open the box to show a bright green stone. Followed by you throwing up all over his bag of games. You dropped the box and sat on the floor. Dick quickly closed the box with the piece of Kryptonite and put it in his pocket. He had boroughed one of Bruce’s bags that apparently wasn’t fully unpacked.

“Dad, I don’t feel good,” you said as Clark ran over. Dick looked at you so guiltily.

“I didn’t know,” he swore. “I’m so sorry.” Bruce stood by quietly.

“We need to talk later,” Clark had told Bruce and yeah, they were mad at each other for a while.

——————————————

Jon arrived shortly in a dress shirt and slacks and he looked at Damian just as weird as Damian looked at him. They had basically switched clothing.

“Not to judge but that’s date clothing? You told me to not wear flannel,” Jon said accusingly.

“That’s because your sister wanted me to wear this,” Damian said back. “Let’s focus on finding her. Father’s calling me now. We’ll change in a minute.”

“Hello, you’re on speaker phone,” Damian said.

“Her tracker is showing a warehouse owned by Luthor Corp in downtown Metropolis,” Bruce said. “Do you need help? I can see if Dick is nearby.”

“No thanks. Jon will help me. Thank you, father,” Damian said before hanging up.

“Luthor. I knew it,” Jon said with a frown. “Wait, you put a tracker on my sister? Does she know?”

“Now is not the time. Let’s get to Metropolis,” Damian said, changing the subject while both got dressed. Jon nodded and offered his arms. “I’m not being carried like that. I’ll hold on your back,” Damian said. Jon rolled his eyes and nodded again.

As they flew over corn fields and pastures, Jon began to question Damian. “So when did you put this tracker in? Does she even know? Where is it? Do I want to even know?”

“It’s sub-dermal in her forearm and I haven’t told her yet. And it’s irrelevant right now as it might save her life,” Damian said and Jon looked disgusted. “We need to focus on saving her and then you can be her angry brother.”

“Wow...”

————————————

You moved and the cuffs burned your skin. You gasped and screamed “Jon! Kon!” You called out to them hoping one of them would hear you.

“Dad!” you cried frantic. There was no way he would hear you. “Damian! Jonathan! Conner!”

You panted and your head pounded. You were so tired. You’d lose consciousness if no one saved you. Then who knows what they would do to you.

“Superman!” You screamed desperately before finally passing out.

——————————

“Did you hear that?” Jon said as they flew towards the Metropolis skyline.

“No all I hear is wind. What did you hear?” Damian said.

“Y/n. She’s calling for us,” Jon said speeding up.

“Is she okay?” Fear bled into Damian’s voice.

“I can’t tell. I’m trying to hurry,” Jon said flying quickly towards the industrial area of the city. He landed on the roof of a warehouse. Jon’s eyes glowed as he looked through the building.

“7 men. 4 posted outside the door to the room that’s she’s being held on the 2nd floor. Her heart rate is steady and she isn’t screaming any more. Almost sounds asleep,” Jon said after his analysis.

“Probably tranquilizer. Father’s data said this building is used for research purposes. Does that fit?” Damian asked.

“Uh more like research subject holding. Maybe a small lab on the first floor but other than cameras everywhere, there isn’t much science stuff that I can scan. But also the basement is sealed off,” Jon said.

“How?”

“Lead bound. You can check it out while I rescue her. 4 guys is nothing,” Jon said making a fist.

“Hold on. Luthor would probably have her surrounded by Kryptonite. Just in case one of you look for her. And that’s the last thing we need,” Damian said. “I’ll rescue her and you look for the basement. Knowing Luthor, it’s probably an entire facility of experiments below. He just hadn’t gotten her room ready yet.”

Jon looked frustrated. “Fine. You rescue her but be careful. She is the weakest of us. She’s not invulnerable to bullets or anything.”

“Most of the people I rescue aren’t either,” Damian reminded him. “And I’m certainly not taking a chance with my beloved.”

Jon looked over to respond but Damian was already gone. Just like the rest of the bats: silent goodbyes. Jon quietly moved down to the first floor. He was working but at the same time, his ear was trained on his sister’s heartbeat. Jon might be the younger sibling but she didn’t have powers and he felt so protective.

—————————————

Damian rolled his eyes at the 5 ways he could see that the security sucks in the 3 minutes he hung out the window before climbing in. Large rafters and guards who didn’t bother to look up. Not to mention the fact that they let there be a solid wall between the set of guards which meant that Damian was easily able to jump down to knock them out in pairs without the other set knowing. If the security was any worse they would leave the door unlocked.

The door wasn’t unlocked but it was a deadbolt that Damian easily disabled. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was on purpose. He gulped before opening the door. What if you were really hurt? Or dead? Ignore and get in there.

Damian opened the door and he felt white hot rage. You were tied to a bed and were unconscious. You were in a nice dressy shirt and sweatpants. They’d clearly taken you while you were getting dressed. Damian wanted to kill them. He had to take a breath to help you. Jon was taking them out and Damian was on rescue. He had to stay level headed.

Even the cuffs on your wrists were inadequate. If they had attempted to restrain Damian, he would have gotten out in 3 minutes. When he was 6 years old. The Kryptonite had left nasty red burns on your skin and he clenched his jaw at the sight. Jon better be punching extra hard.

Damian picked you up bridal style and you groaned a little before turning your head against his chest. The farther he got you from that fucking Kryotonite the better you were. He took you to the roof and you started waking up.

“Damian,” you said softly and a little confused.

“Hey you’re awake. How are you feeling?” He asked looking all over your face for injury.

“Kryptonite. I hate that stuff,” you said. Damian grabbed your hand and you hissed. He looked to see bright red knuckles. You’d clearly fought at some point. He certainly knew the signs of punching someone.

“You fought back?”

“Yeah and hitting someone in a helmet and body armor sucks. I got just a few in before they pulled out the damn rock. I throw up every damn time,” you said shaking your head.

Before Damian could comment on how brave and stupid it was to punch body armor, there was a huge crash down on the first floor as someone flew in the building through the window. You grabbed him tightly.

“What the hell is that?”

“Kon. Conner’s here. I’m up here,” you yelled.

Conner flew up to the roof. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Kidnapped. Damian and Jon saved me. He’s still down there actually. Can you check on him?” You said. Damian suddenly stood up.

“What if you were a distraction and the real problem is downstairs?” Damian suddenly said with clarity. The Kryptonite alone was enough to hold you down. The half ass security was to hold their attention when they rescued you. Jon was already flying back down before Damian could say more. Damian weighed his options: leave you alone, bring you with him, or stay out of it and while the last sounded nice, he’d have to go in case of more Kryptonite.

Before Damian could decide, Kon was back on the roof. “You’ve got to come see this.”

Downstairs was a lead lined basement. That alone had you nervous. Jon stood by the door. Little spattering of blood could be seen on his hands. He had a hard look.

“Warning: this is going to be messed up,” he said and you were even more worried. You walked in to see cages. Kids. Unconscious adults lay around in the hallway. “They were experimenting on them.”

You felt nauseous.

“My father is on the way. This is much bigger than I thought,” Damian said messing with his comms. His free hand was on your shoulder protectively.

There were 8 kids in cages. Bruce was running tests on their blood and investigating the area as you helped to get them out of the cages. What a terrible Valentine’s Day.

“Beloved, let’s get you home. We can stay at the farm tonight. You need sleep,” Damian said worried. You looked at him distracted.

“They’re just kids.”

“Come on. Let’s go. Kon is going to stay there too. Just for the night,” Damian said helping you up. Kon flew you both back to the farm.

“I’m going back to help. You okay, kid,” Kon asked as Damian inspected the house.

“I’ll be alright. Just help those kids,” you said.

“Yeah, of course,” he said ruffling your head. You rolled your eyes. “But seriously, the way you screamed I thought you were being murdered.”

You stiffened. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Kon knew when to quit. Something he had learned from Tim. He gave you a big hug and flew off towards Metropolis.

“Hey. I made your bed so you can sleep,” Damian said quietly. “And a change of clothes.”

You nodded and went upstairs. Damian helped pull off your shirt and put on a sweater. He looked at the marks around your wrist and red knuckles but didn’t note any more bruises or cuts. You pulled on sweatpants and climbed in small twin bed that Lois kept for guests. The pink and yellow flowery quilt felt warm and comforting on your skin. Damian lay beside you after changing and looked at you seriously.

“What is it,” you asked.

“I was so scared tonight. I have been doing this for years and I’ve never been so worried,” he said softly and you looked down and flushed. If you weren’t so freaking sensitive to Kryptonite this wouldn’t have happened. Damian gently lifted your chin and you looked at him.

“I was scared to lose you,” he said running his thumb across your cheek. “I’m going to drive you absolutely mad because I don’t want to take my eyes off of you.”

“Yeah?” You said with a little smile.

“Uh hm. But first sleep,” he said and your body certainly agreed. You curled into him and rest your head on his chest. His arms held you tightly before rubbing your back. You fell asleep to Damian staring at you. He stared at you all night, not even sleeping when Kon came in a few hours later.

———————————

“I have to know what all that was, Bruce,” you said at the Batcave the next day. “I was in there.”

He looked at you for a minute. “They were experimenting with meta DNA. All of those kids have gifts and they wanted to take you too. There were even plans to inject those kids with your blood to see if it would affect them.”

You shivered a little at the thought. Lex Luthor and his obsession with Kryptonian DNA.

“All the records were burned. Most of the warehouse too. Your brothers were.... thorough. And Clark will be home in a few days,” Bruce added.

“Really?”

“Yes. And he’s furious at Luthor. Probably will call soon. He wanted to let you sleep earlier. We’re just running programs here. Why don’t you and Damian go upstairs,” he suggested.

“Bruce Wayne,” came a stern voice behind you. You turned to see your mother, Lois Lane, looking like she was going to beat up Batman. “You put a tracker in my daughter without her permission?”

“You what?” You said.

“Actually that was Damian. Though I want to point out that it helped save her life,” Bruce added. Lois slapped him soundly across the cheek. Bruce just blinked and rubbed his cheek.

“Damian, you put a tracker in me?” You asked shocked. You’d assumed Jon had heard you or Damian’s detective work brought them to the warehouse. Not an invasive tracker in your body. “What the hell?”

“Well I can explain..”

[peakyscillian]

| The Sixth Month Date| Cillian x Reader | Mini-Series |

Summary: Six months after your first blind date you & Cillian have your sixth month date. Warnings: Age gap (Reader is in her 20's), Smut at the end. Request: Part one was a request. A/N: I got carried away this is a long one! Like always no disrespect to Cillian's family, this is basically an AU where he's single.

•The Sixth Month Date | Mini-Series•

Part one here, Part two here & Part three here Masterlist

The underwear was wrapped beautifully in the pink box, you'd spent hours pouring over the webpages of agent provocateur, you'd finally picked a delicate black lace, half cup bra with matching lace thong, you'd decided against the matching suspender belt after a discussion with Ella.

Ella was still shocked that your had waited this long before sleeping with Cillian, you'd stayed at his house so many times in the past six months but you'd both held off actually having sex. You'd spent the time getting to know each other, spending nights curled on his sofa and early sunday mornings dragging lazy moans from each other in everyway but the one you had been saving.

Cillian had text you that morning, with details of the restaurant he had booked for your date, you'd sent him back a simple text, telling him you were looking forward to it and you'd see him later.

Ella had come over as you were getting ready, she was so excited that a date she had set you up on had gone this well, you and Cillian had been officially together since the one month mark. She was also bringing some shoe options for you after you'd begged to borrow her expensive black dress.

***

Cillian was waiting outside the restaurant when you made your way up the road from where your uber had dropped you off, he was wearing a simple black shirt, darkwashed jeans and his usual tan boots, his hair you noticed has been slightly cut but still the length that suited him so well.

A smile broke out on his face as he spotted you, the black dress hugging your figure tightly, you small feet encased in the shoes you'd borrowed from Ella, hair half pinned and the rest down. "Hey beautiful" he swooped down to catch your lips in a passionate kiss. You linked your hand with his "looking handsome Cill" you nudged his jaw with your nose, only being able to reach his lips when you were on tiptoes.

Cillian held the door open for you, stepping into the restaurant it was busy but you knew you wouldn't be bothered by anyone recognising Cillian, he held out the chair for you to sit down, lips dropping to the top of your head before he took his own seat.

"You look absolutely stunning y/n" he had a massive grin on is face as he looked at you, you blushed slightly feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You sipped from the chilled wine "wanted to look nice for you" you shyly smiled at him, he linked his fingers through yours across the table. "You always look beautiful, you don't have to do anything for me" he stroked his thumb over the back of your hand.

You nodded "I know, but I wanted to do it for you" you confirmed tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

*** Cillian's arms wrapped around your waist as you stood waiting for the uber back to his house, his chin resting on your shoulder, fingers brushing over the satin material of the dress across your middle "m' I love you" he muttered against the shell of your ear.

You turned to look at him, his eyes shining as they darted around your face, you licked at your dry lips, heart only speeding up a little at his words.

"I love you too, Cill" you beamed, pressing your lips against his, he sighed as you pulled away.

"Thank god you said it back" he chuckled as the uber pulled up, you slapped his arm lightly as he moved to open the car door. "Why wouldn't I" you questioned slipping into the backseats, he followed suit, both strapping in and then his hand was on your thigh just above your knee. "I don't know, I haven't felt it in a long time for anyone but I've been feeling it for a while for you" he was talking low as the uber raced through the City. You nodded slowly, taking in his words "I've been feeling it too, almost said it a few times" you ran your hand across his jawline, he nipped at the tip of your thumb cheekily, causing you to giggle softly.

*** You stood in the ensuite, taking a deep breath as you pulled off the dress revealing the underwear you'd picked especially for tonight, pulling your hair from the clasp you shook it out down your back, you suddenly had a feeling like it was your first ever time, shaking your head to get rid of those thoughts you took one last look in the mirror you opened the bathroom door, turning out the light. Cillian's eyes flicked up to you, as you stood in the doorway of his ensuite, he was in the bed already like you had instructed him to do, he'd done it whilst protesting that he didn't want to leave your lips for too long. His eyes widened "fuck, how did you get even more stunning" he chuckled lightly running a hand through his hair, you smiled coyly at him taking a few steps across the wooden floors. "You like it?" you asked, finally standing at the side of his kingsize bed, hands on his shoulders as you swung your legs either side of his hips, his hands fell to your waist stroking down to your hips. He drew in a deep breath "very much" he dug his nails into the soft skin of your hips, your hands were running up and down his arms, your breath shaking in anticipation.

"Kind of don't want to take it off you" he admitted fingers trailing over the thin lace of the bra, hooking the straps with his fingers, pulling them down to rest loosely above your elbows "but also want to get to whats underneath" he laughed conflicted with how good you looked in the underwear, but knowing you'd look just as amazing out of it. "I bought it so you could remove it" you pressed a kiss to his lips, "wanted you to take it off me, finally have me" you sighed out a breath as his fingers hooked the elastic of the thong you were wearing. Cillian nodded quickly, turning so you were laying on your back, crawling over you, lingering his hands over your breasts, squeezing at your thighs, fingers ghosting across your already wet pussy through the lace of your black thong, lips nipping at your neck before pulling the thong down your legs, lifting each leg and discarding the material on the floor. Lifting you up from the mattress to unclasp the bra, you lifted your arms so he could remove it fully and let it join the thong on the floor "Fucking beautiful" he rasped in his thick irish accent. Cillian tugged your legs gently so you were flat on your back, he settled between your legs, he was peppering kisses up your thighs, hands curled around your ankles planting your feet flat on the mattress, pushing your knees apart, his eyes devoured the sight of your glistening pussy as the pressure on your knees opened you up to him. He sucked in a breath as he felt his cock straining against the material of his black calvins, the sight in front of him making his mouth water, his breath fanning across your throbbing heat was causing electic to run through your whole body, the feeling heightened from the tension between you since you'd entered his house. Your body was reacting to his touches, propped up on your elbows so you could watch him, as he slowly but surely moved his mouth over your sopping cunt, sucking first, tounge darting out occassionaly to flick in between your folds, licking up your juices, his blue eyes locked with yours, darkened with lust, his nose was nudging over your clit already sensitive and pulsing causing a shiver to curse through your body. His tounge pressed flat against you, dragging up placing a kiss to your freshly waxed mound, the strip of hair left running down the centre to the flesh covering your bundle of nerves, he ran his nose down the course hair dipping his tounge in as he pulled back the hood with a two fingers, exposing the most sensitive part of you to him, he blew a cool breath across it making you yelp in surprise head falling back. Your hands tangled in his hair, soft between your fingers "fuck, Cillian this feels amazing" you whined, body writhing below his mouth "Want to make you feel good" his lips still against you as he spoke, causing vibrations to ripple through you. Cillian wrapped his tounge around your clit, varying pressure on it as he slid a finger into your soaking entrance, right to the knuckle, pulling out he added a second finger to the mix, sucking your clit into his mouth before letting go with a pop. You were in a state of bliss, legs threatening to close around his head, his free hand held your knee in place, keeping you spread for him, so he could continue his skilled attack on your throbbing cunt, his fingers pumping into you, his tongue lapping around his fingers, up to you clit, down your folds with a slight nip at you swollen lower lips.

Your mind was in a frenzy, the feeling of the need to reach your orgasm and wanting to hold out was making your breathing laboured, Cillian's mouth expertly working you to your release, his fingers coaxing it along quicker. You pulled his head up "Cill, I need you to fuck me, fill me up" you whined. He licked his lips your juices coating his chin, the tip of his nose "you want that, yeah?" he asked a smirk on his face as you nodded frantically. "please, please" you panted, his fingers were settled in you not moving, he tapped them upwards making your legs shake. Cillian crawled over you, you wrapped your legs around his waist, as he pushed his boxers down, his hard cock springing free, you reached between your bodies to pull his foreskin back, exposing his head leaking with precum you swiped your finger over it. He was watching you as you sucked your finger into your mouth the taste of him salty but sweet on your tounge you moaned around your finger causing him to scrunch his eyes closed with his own moan. Cillian reached over you to his bedside table "please don't think i was planning this, I just wanted to be prepared" he sighed as your hand curled back around him while he tried to grab for the condom. He knelt between your legs, opening the foil packet and rolling the condom down his hard length, causing you to moan at the sight of him doing so, he leaned back over you, you opened your legs inviting him to take you fully. You guided him into you, he was stretching you as you sighed, his face falling into your neck he bit at your warm skin, you pushed your feet against his bare bum signalling for him to move. Cillian snapped his hips towards yours, hands either side of your head so he could get the right angle to fill you completely, his head dropping to watch as he disappeared into you. Your hands curled around his bicep "can you feel that, love? deep inside you" he groaned as you nodded. "told you I wanted you to fill me up" you whined pushing his hair off his forehead. Cillian pressed his lips hard against yours, nipping at them for access into your warm mouth, you allowed him sucking at his tongue, as he curled a hand around your thigh lifting your leg up against his hip. "You're so tight" he sighed pulling from your lips momentarily "feels so fucking good" he added, nuzzling into the warm sticky skin of your neck. You threw your head back into the pillows, exposing your neck for him, he grazed his teeth against the thin skin, biting gently at it before soothing the marks with his tongue. "Cillian, Cillian" you whined his name, causing him to thrust into you harder. You smirked at him "like hearing your name huh?" you asked hand cupping his face as he nodded turning his face to kiss your palm. "Fuck, yes, like hearing how good I make you feel" he sighed as your hips moved to meet his, nails moving over his shoulders to dig into his back, his soft freckled skin warm under you touch. "Feels amazing, you feel so good, stretching me like this" you moaned. He dived back in for another kiss, lips moulding together in a heated exchange, he pulled away the sight of you ruined below him causing him to speed up his pace. "Right, uh, fuck there" you wrapped your legs around his waist, as he pounded into you. Pulling out slowly, resting his tip in between your folds, covered in your juices, your thighs slick with your excitement, he thrust back in sliding effortlessly into your throbbing cunt, repeating the action a few times over. Cillian buried his face into your neck, as he felt your release clench around him, his hips sloppily moving as he pushed you towards your orgasm, your wet walls milking him to his to the edge, he toppled over with you, both moaning and panting trying to grab onto each others skin. You lifted your head up to kiss him as he rested on his forearms either side of your head, trying to catch his breath. "that was something else" he sighed dropping kissing to your chest, hands cupping at your breasts. Your fingers were tangled in his hair as he coaxed you down from your

high, with gentle kisses and tugs of your nipples "well happy six months Cill" you laughed lightly your legs falling from around his waist.

He rolled off you, both hissing at the lose of contact, he removed the condom, leaving the bed to discard it in the bathroom bin. You made yourself comfortable on the side of the bed that you had now definitely claimed as your own in the past six months, making yourself comfortable on the stack of pillows. "What did I do to deserve you?" he climbed back under the covers, both of you bare as he turned to lay on his side, you done the same moving closer to him. "We both deserve each other" you smiled pushing his hair from his forehead, your lips pecking his in gentle butterfly kisses. You both fell into a deep sleep, his arm around you keeping you against his chest.

*** Taglist (let me know if you want to be added!) @queenshelby @elenavampire21 @datewithgianni @lawfeys @janelongxox If i've missed anyone who asked to be added please message me!

[fett-djarin]

Anything

this bitch done YEET

anyway this is Boba Fett x f!Reader! I had this idea kicking around for awhile and shit finally came together and i was able to get it done!

Rating: 18+

Length: 4.1k

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, canon-typical violence (not in the smut), PiV intercourse, unprotected sex, fingering, riding, throne sex come get yalls juice, multiple orgasms, creampie, spanking, slight cockwarming?, pet names, swearing

NSFW BELOW THE CUT!

Boba Fett was an enigma. He intimidated you, intrigued you--but he didn’t scare you. Boba could be violent, occasionally cruel, but only to those who had earned his ire. You had nothing to fear.

You still remember the day he stormed into Jabba’s palace, a wrathful spectre on a mission. You had been afraid you would be caught in the crossfire, an exchange of possession through violence. But then your chains were blasted apart, scum of men dying around you instead of finding your own demise. Instead of fleeing like the other girls, you dove towards a dropped blaster and levelled it at one of the smugglers putting up a fight. This particular one had been a thorn in your side for a long time. You’d be lying if you said you felt no satisfaction watching him fall lifeless from your well-placed blaster bolt.

“Nice shot,” the woman--Fennec, you had come to learn--commented. You had turned in a panic, pointing the blaster in her direction, her own rifle coming up in an instant, aimed squarely at your head.

“Easy, girl,” the Mandalorian--Boba--had said. “We have no interest in fighting you.”

“If you mean to sell me again,” you spat, “it would be easier to kill me now.” Your fingers flexed on the blaster, and you tried to steady your shaking hands. Fennec’s aim hadn’t faltered.

“Stand down, Shand,” Fett directed the sharpshooter, who immediately lowered her weapon. He then addressed you again. “I don’t deal in flesh.” You slowly dropped your arm. “What’s your name, girl?”

That had been...a few standard months ago, now. Boba ran his syndicate under a tight fist. He had no use for slaves, and had told you you were free, even offered you credits to return home. Some of the others took his offer. You had opted to stay--your birth planet had nothing to offer you, and you did not want to try your luck as a newly freed woman with nothing to your name on Tatooine. You didn’t even have a name, really. You were called something different each time you moved; your birthname was no longer you. That person had died long ago.

“Call me anything,” you had told Boba. “I don’t mind.”

He thought for a minute, and then decided. “Mayen.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. The gruff, seemingly serious man had a sense of humor. Mayen--Mando’a for ‘anything.’ His lips quirked in a sly smirk. You liked it. Mayen it was.

“You know Mando’a?” He had asked.

“I’ve picked up things here and there,” you smiled in return.

He later on told you that you could pick your own name, you had no obligation to go by the silly pun he called you. But you had a sense of humor, and actually liked how it sounded. It was a new beginning. You decided you would keep it.

You knew quite a few languages, or bits and pieces you heard over the years. Boba had hired you as a translator, and you accompanied him to meetings with traders, smugglers, and pirates. He didn’t allow any of them to harass you. If they so much as leered in your direction, they tended to lose a few fingers or teeth, either by your hand or his. At Boba’s insistence, you now carried a blaster and a vibroblade. Fennec had been showing you how to properly aim and shoot so you could better protect yourself. He had gifted you the vibroblade as part of your payment.

Yes, Boba Fett was a hard man, but you appreciated his kindness.

His scars added to his imposing figure, and you often found yourself wondering about their origin. What he must have gone through for his skin to be marked so. You also wondered about how stupid some people could be--Mandalorians were legendary warriors, and Boba Fett had some infamy connected to his name, yet fools still picked fights they were destined to lose. His armor impressed you--and the dark stare of the T-visor when he looked your way always had something low and warm stirring in your belly.

It didn’t help that sometimes he would watch while you practiced with your blade. Your heart thundered in your ears the first time he came up behind you, chest to your back, and moved your arms into the correct defensive position. His boot also nudged your stance wider, centering your weight. It’s part of training, you told yourself. You prayed he didn’t notice the heat in your face or the way you refused to look at him. Stars, if you turned your head you could kiss him--

What could you say? He was a handsome man.

Occasionally he offered to spar with you, which was laughable. The first time you had outright refused. “I don’t want to die, thanks,” you said.

“You’re gonna have to face people bigger and stronger than you sometimes, princess,” he said the endearment mockingly.

“Most people aren’t Boba Fett.”

“You’re right about that. Still, come on, show me what you’ve learned.”

Your first fight ended miserably in about three seconds. You gave him a pointed look that said I-told-you-so, and he just shrugged. “Not bad for your first time.” Sparring became regular.

“You’re quicker than me. Use that to your advantage, stay out of my reach. Strike and retreat.”

“Arms up, but keep ‘em close--protect your body.”

“Stagger your stance, distribute your weight. Make it harder for people to knock you down.”

“Move with confidence--this is not the time to falter.”

His words of advice came with each session and stuck. After a few weeks, you could hold your own for a minute against Fett. Then five minutes. Then your sparring was like a coordinated, aggressive dance, blades flashing and deflected, ducking, dodging, weaving, spinning around each other. Once, you had even managed to disarm him, knocking the blade from his hand--you both froze in stunned surprise before Boba recovered and had you pinned to the floor in an instant.

“Very good.” He said from his place atop your legs, pride curling darkly through his voice. “But next time, press the advantage. You freeze, you die.” Now you froze for an entirely different reason--his weight on top of you caused something hot and wanting to smolder in you, his thumb gently stroking the hollow of your throat making your breath hitch. And then he was off you, pulling you back to your feet with ease.

You still couldn’t beat him--you don’t think you would ever be capable of that. The best bounty hunter in the galaxy against you? You much prefer being on his good side.

Boba had just returned from a recent bounty hunt alongside a fellow Mandalorian, having left you and Fennec at the palace. You had been helping her sort through the datalogs and contraband left behind from the previous occupants when he appeared, moving surprisingly silent for such a broad, imposing man.

“Mayen,” he called you, and you looked at him over your shoulder, having been preoccupied cataloguing the contents of the crate in front of you. He was still in his armor, adding to his bulk. The green-painted beskar gave nothing away. “I’ve got a meeting. You’ll be needed. Fennec, I sent you scouting information on the next bounty.”

You nodded, and with your acknowledgment, he turned and strode back towards the throne room. Fennec stood, brushing sand off her pants. “Careful,” Fennec warned. “Keep your blaster close. You never know how these meetings will turn out.” She patted you on the shoulder.

“Got it,” you said, adjusting your tunic so she could see the holster on your hip. It would be the first time she wasn’t there alongside you while Boba arranged deals with crime lords. Sometimes Boba would go in alone, or the both of you would attend. “Trained by the best.”

She cracked a smile at that. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to track down our next target.” She exited the storage room opposite of the way Boba went.

You gathered yourself, then followed after Boba. Entering the throne room was daunting, as the traders he was meeting with were already there and turned to stare. A few of them openly looked you up and down. Your eyes were fixed solely on Boba lounging on the throne, legs spread, seemingly completely at ease and exuding power. You strode past the group of men come to bargain, refusing to look away from the void of Boba's visor that tracked your movement. One of them muttered something as you passed that you couldn't make out, but it had not sounded pleasant. You took your place at Boba's side.

"Boba Fett, the legendary bounty hunter back from the dead," a wiry human man stepped forward, rubbing his hands together. His grin was more of a baring of teeth. "Now that you run this joint, I have a few propositions to consider--"

Since he was speaking Basic, you have to admit, you tuned out. You watched the two Twi’leks that had accompanied him, who kept throwing glances your way, murmuring to themselves. Something about them put you on edge. Of course, you never trusted the people who came to do business with Boba, but you liked this group even less.

You translated for a Rodian bounty hunter when it was his turn to speak. You noticed the Twi'leks and the first human had been getting antsy, shifting from foot to foot and continuing to eye you and Boba. The Twi'leks had never come forward. They spelled trouble. You were tense the entire time, but they reached an agreement and left without trouble.

Boba on the throne was a sight. Your mind wandered, wondering what it would be like to sit on his lap, straddle his strong thighs. You shook your head to clear it as Boba cleared his throat, drawing your attention.

"Go get some rest, little one." And with that, you were dismissed.

You touched yourself thinking of him that night. Imagining it was his fingers instead of yours bringing you to your peak. You bit your fist as you came, muffling your moans and preventing you from calling his name out into the night.

The next day, he had gone out once again. When he returned, you noted his armor had some new scratches, some of the fresh green paint chipped away. He beckoned you forward with a wave, following him to the throne room. He sat with a heavy sigh. You stood before him, waiting for his direction, when he removed his helmet and set it aside. There was a new cut on his cheek, dried blood sticking to his skin.

"You're hurt," you said, stepping forward. Boba grunted noncommittally in response, reaching into a pouch on his belt and pulling out a small container of bacta.

"Use this," his voice was gravelly and he tossed the container to you. He...wanted you to put the bacta on him? Your pulse kicked up. But you would do as he asked.

You unscrewed the lid, swiping your finger through the gel. "What happened?" You asked as you spread it as gently as you could over the cut.

"Those hunters from yesterday," he sighed. "Thought they could catch me unaware out in the dunes. Their last mistake." He chuckled. "This was really the only hit I took," he gestured to the cut along his cheek. You had finished spreading the bacta, but your hand still lingered. You were entranced, being this close to him. Your thumb mindlessly caressed his cheekbone.

"Mayen," he said your name. You met his eyes, the heat in his gaze taking you by surprise. He always had fire and fight in him, but this wasn't like that. It was wanting. Boba grasped your wrist of the hand that still held his face, his other coming up to cup the back of your head.

Then you were kissing him.

You don't know if you leaned down or if he pulled you down or if he leaned up or if it even mattered, all you cared about was his rough lips against yours. When you gasped into it, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Boba's kisses were all consuming, overwhelming--he demanded all of you, and wouldn't accept any less.

He leaned back, bringing you with him so you had no choice but to straddle his lap or be pulled off-balance. You settled along his thighs, sighing as you could now grind your center against his stiffening member. He nipped your bottom lip, breaking away to press kisses down your throat.

“Tell me, sweetheart…” he murmured, worrying a mark into the delicate skin of your neck.

You whined, rolling your hips against his. His hands clamped down like durasteel around your hips, stilling you. “Tell me. We stop if you say so.”

“I want you, Boba,” you gasped, and he rewarded you with another hickey sucked into your neck. He guided your hips back into a slow grind, thrusting up against you. The layers of clothes between you dulled the sensation, but warm waves of pleasure still radiated through you. You cradled his jaw, bringing his lips back to yours, before trailing your palms down his chest. You pawed at his chestplate and robes, making him chuckle.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teased you lightly. You squeaked when he pinched your ass. “Take this off, princess.” His hands slid up under your tunic, running up and down your sides before caressing your breasts.

You lifted your arms, helping him slide your shirt over your head. Instinctively, your arms came down to cover yourself, but Boba tutted at you. “Don’t get shy on me now, mesh’la. Let me see you.” He murmured in your ear before lightly nipping the lobe, sending shivers down your spine. He encouraged you to put your hands back on his chest. You whined against him, need building in your core as he undid your bindings and continued to guide your hips in a deep grind.

Boba’s fingers crept along the waistband of your pants before diving inside. You moaned as they landed on your clit. “This wet already? Someone’s a needy little thing.” You felt your face heat at his teasing accompanied by his rough fingers circling your clit built you up even more. You hid your face in his shoulder, grinding against his hand for more of that raw pleasure. Boba suddenly pressed hard against your clit in a tight circle, making you cry out loudly and grip his robes for dear life.

“Boba, please,” you whined, lips tracing his throat, his jaw, wherever you could reach. You brought your own hand down to cup him through his pants, running your hand along his bulge. He cursed lightly in your ear as you gently squeezed him.

“Up,” he said, patting your ass. You stood, taking the opportunity to shimmy out of your pants and panties. He lounged back against the throne, taking in your form. You didn’t cover yourself this time. “Good girl. Come here.” You stepped between his spread knees and he took you by the elbow, pulling you down and turning you so your back was pressed to his chest and your legs were spread by his own. His touch returned to your clit, sliding through your slick folds to tease your entrance. You pressed your ass back against his hardness and he groaned.

His arm banded around your waist as he finally slid a finger into your dripping entrance. You gasped, head falling back to rest on his shoulder. When he introduced a second one, you began to squirm. The stretch was so good as his fingers slid within you, curling and pressing into that perfect spot that sent you soaring. You were practically riding his hand, your hips circling as his fingers moved faster and faster.

“Oh,” you gasped as he added a third, legs trembling. Your hand shot to his where it was locked around your middle, holding you against him, while your other curled up and back, turning his head so you could kiss him. Boba found that spot in you that made you clench tight around him and zeroed in with deadly precision. You felt him grin smugly against your lips as your breathing stuttered. “Boba!”

“Look at you, so desperate for my fingers. Squeezin’ me so tight, sweetheart, can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

You found yourself teetering at the edge of release. You turned your head, burying your nose in Boba’s neck. “Please, Boba, g’nna cum, please--” you gasped out. It was a good thing he held you to him, else you would have been bucking off his lap.

“Cum on my fingers, cyar’ika.”

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you tipped over the edge of orgasm, cumming hard around Boba’s fingers. Your cunt flooded with wetness, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into you becoming even wetter. If he hadn’t been holding you to his chest you would have doubled over with the devastating pulses of pleasure rocking through you from your center. He continued working you through it until you whined, pushing at his hand that still moved between your thighs, need building up in you again.

Boba brought his fingers up to his mouth and you moaned at the sight of him sucking and licking them clean of your arousal. “Taste so sweet,” he said. “Open.” You opened your mouth, and he slid his fingers inside. Obediently, you sucked on them, swirling your tongue around his fingers like you would his cock. Boba groaned. "Dirty girl."

He withdrew his fingers from your mouth and you begged. "Want your cock, please, Boba--please fuck me, please--"

"Hush, needy pet. You'll get what you want." He bit your neck, the sharp pinpricks fading into a warm buzz that made you squirm, wiggling your hips on his lap. Boba reached down between you two and shifted himself out of his robes, sliding his cock against your soaked folds. You looked down and Maker, he was thick. You were suddenly glad he made you take three fingers--you hoped you would be able to take his cock.

He rutted against you, his cock sliding through your folds and pulling breathless little gasps from you each time his head nudged your clit. Each slick drag of him against your lips coated his cock in your wetness. Boba evidently grew tired of teasing you, because he urged you up and took hold of the base of his cock, guiding it to your dripping entrance. You moaned at the feeling of his thick tip splitting you open, sinking down the first inch.

Boba's hand came around to rub little circles on your clit, making you jerk against him, his other hand caging you in by your hip. Slowly, he encouraged you to sit back on his lap, the thick drag and push of his cock working inch-by-inch deeper into you. Stars, you felt him in your fucking guts. Your thighs trembled, and when your ass touched his lap you nearly sobbed from how full you felt.

"Look at that," he murmured into your hair. "Takin' me so well, princess. Feels fucking good, doesn't it?" You clenched around him at his words, making him choke off a moan. He rubbed your clit a tick faster just to feel you spasm around him again and he laughed at your high gasp of pleasure.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was too good--that ache, the raw sparks shooting down your legs and up your spine. Shifting the slightest bit pushed him right up something devastating inside you and you couldn't stop the wrecked moan that tore from your throat. Boba gave an experimental thrust and you nearly shrieked and lurched off of him, if he hadn't grabbed a hold of your hips and held you on his lap. You babbled senselessly, too overwhelmed as every ridge of his cock pressed your walls just right. "B-Boba, Boba, move, please--"

His big hand slapped your inner thigh and this time you did wail, the hot sting fading into a pleasant, buzzing warmth. His fingers dug in to the soft flesh hard enough that you knew there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers come morning. Then he lifted you slightly off him, cock sliding only a few inches out, before pulling you down in time with a thrust upwards, burying himself in you with a deep grind. You let out a choked moan, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

"Ride," he demanded. Your breath hitched as you scrambled for purchase, hands going to his strong thighs for support. It was sort of an awkward position, your feet barely touching the floor, requiring you to go on your tiptoes to pull a few inches off his cock. Boba's thick fingers cupped your pussy in a V shape, so every time you rose and fell they rolled against your clit. You couldn't tell if you wanted to push your hips back away or forward for more stimulation.

He slapped your other thigh this time, rubbing to soothe the sting, encouraging you to bounce on his cock faster. Your breath was coming in high, moaning pants as each drop of your hips buried him deep inside you, reaching places you never had and lighting up your nerves like a star gone supernova. Paired with his touch teasing your clit with every thrust, you weren't going to last long.

Boba's hands on your hips guided you faster, rougher--each downstroke hitting deep and holding you there for a second just to feel how full, how stuffed your pussy was of him. His thrusts up as you dropped down allowed his cock to hit your g-spot dead on, over and over. You felt yourself rhythmically clenching around him, heard his groans as your cunt strangled his cock, and you were so close to cumming again. The feeling coiled up at the base of your spine, the pleasure winding tighter and higher and ready to burst.

And then--then Boba hooked his hands under your knees, pulling your legs up so all your weight rested on where he was buried in you, and he slipped another inch further inside. You couldn't stop the sob of pleasure as he held you like this, open for him to take, and he set a punishing pace. The dull slap of skin-on-skin paired with the wet gush of your arousal around him, dripping down his balls and onto the throne, made your head tip back onto his shoulder and wrenched moan after moan out of you.

You were talking, babbling nonsense--begging, pleading for him to make you cum again. Boba tilted his hips just right and you keened as it pushed his cock right against the soft spot along your walls. Each thrust shoved you closer to the edge right until that coil inside you snapped. Your legs shook and your pussy clamped down so hard around Boba's cock that it stunted him to short, shallow thrusts as you rode it out. You distantly heard him groaning, praising you, telling you good girl, good fuckin' girl--you were spasming around him, each jolt of pleasure like a white-hot knife radiating from your core to your toes. Boba kept fucking you through it and you nearly begged him to stop--it was too much, the bite of overstimulation burning your nerves--when he pulled you down, fucking into you as deep as he could and he came with a groan of your name, cock throbbing as his release coated your walls.

Somehow, you ended up turned, face buried in his neck and legs wrapped around his waist as you trembled and caught your breath. His hands trailed up and down your spine and thighs in soothing motions as you came back down. You sighed and cuddled closer to him, the hard beskar plating cold against your bare skin, but it felt good on your overheated body.

"Made quite a mess on me, sweetheart," he said, deep voice rumbling in his chest under your ear. You just mmm'd and clung closer to him while he chuckled. It was true. Your arousal coated your thighs, dripped down onto the throne, soaked Boba's cock where it was still buried in you. Boba pulled his robe around you and stood, supporting you with his hands under your thighs. "Come on, little one, let's go to bed." You closed your eyes as he made his way out of the throne room and through the palace. He didn't drop you off in your bedroom, instead taking you to his and laying you in the spacious bed before stripping off his armor and joining you.

[bqstqnbruin]

F is for Friends - part 1

Uhhhh, hello, yeah, this is that Nolan fic that I started yesterday that wasn't on my WIP list but I've decided that this is going to be multiple parts so I hope you like this.

Anyway, it's 4:30 am, ignore typos, the MC is a high school chem teacher (because that is all I know and I'm not sorry, enjoy pretending to be an expert on the basics of chemistry)

Read part 2 here!

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You knew you and your friends were being a little bit loud, but you didn’t think anyone was around to hear you. When you had gotten into your apartment, the cars that were normally there indicating that your neighbors were home were gone, the only cars there being your own and one you hadn’t seen before. If you were being honest, you didn’t even know who your neighbors were, you had just pieced together that the cars you had seen regularly were ones you assumed belonged to the people who lived around you.

It’s not like you were being that annoying, you just had music playing while you guys were hanging out. It was a rare afternoon where you were home before the traffic got bad, and your friends, working together at the same company, had the day off for whatever holiday they tried to claim it was. You and Lindsey were sitting on the couch, Francesca leaning against the coffee table as she set cross-legged on your floor.

“Do you guys hear that?” Lindsey yells over the music, interrupting the attempt you three were making at trying to figure out what you wanted for dinner later that night.

You turn the music down, not even realizing how loud it had gotten even with the screaming you all were doing trying to communicate with each other. “What?”

“Y/N, someone’s knocking at your door,” Fran says, not looking up from her phone.

You hear the knocking they were talking about, short and fast as if whoever it was was annoyed they had been knocking for a long time. You get up to answer it, two tall men standing in the way of your door. “Hi!” you greet them, a smile on your face, probably seeming slightly fake.

“Your music is loud,” the brunette deadpans.

“Oh,” you say, starting to put the pieces together about who they probably were, “sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was home at this point.”

“Who is it?” Lindsey calls.

“I think they’re my neighbors.”

“You think?” the red headed one says, clearly confused as to how you wouldn’t know who they were. “We are your neighbors. Did you just move in?”

You smirk at the slight attitude that came through in his voice, used to it by now based on who you interacted with everyday. “No, I’ve lived here for about a year now. I’m just normally the first to leave in the morning and then the first home in the afternoon, so I don’t really cross paths with anyone else who lives here.”

“What do you do?” the still nameless brunette asked.

Before you could answer, you heard Fran yelling from the other room. “Invite them in! That way we can turn the music back on and they can’t complain!”

You can’t help but cringe because of your friend's words, gesturing for them to come in because you now had to. “If you want.”

The two of them walk in, finding Fran with her legs up on the coffee table while her back is on the floor, Lindsey taking up the entirety of the couch. You groan at the sight of your friends sitting there like that, rolling your eyes before turning back to the guys. “That’s Francesca on the floor, Lindsey on the couch, and I’m Y/N. I can grab some chairs from the kitchen if you don’t want to sit on the floor,” you tell them, knowing that your friends won’t move from the way the positions they were in.

The shorter one follows you, grabbing two chairs from the table to your one.

“Uh, I’m Kevin and that’s Nolan,” the other one says, Fran and Lindsey looking incredibly unamused by your neighbors.

“So, you never said what you did,” Nolan asks, his eyes scanning you up and down.

You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks, about to answer that question again when Fran decides to answer, “Linds and I work at KPMG.”

“Excuse you, but I believe he was asking me,” you respond, the fake sweetness in your voice prompting an eye.

“Why does that sound like the voice you use when that other guy is trying to explain to you your material that he borrowed?” Fran asked.

“Because it is,” you say, using the same tone as before. You see the confused looks on the guys faces, unable to help the laughter from slipping out of your lips, “I’m a high school chemistry teacher, one of the other teachers steals my lessons from me all the time and tries to explain how to teach them to me.”

Lindsey and Fran change the subject, sucking Kevin into their topic with them while Nolan turns to you, scooching his chair closer to you.

“What could you possibly have been doing that your music was so loud?” he asks you, the other three practically screaming with laughter.

You sigh at their antics, explaining, “We were actually just talking and hanging out. If you couldn’t tell, they’re pretty loud. They come over and take over.”

“That’s Kevin, too.”

“Is he your roommate or just a friend?” you ask him.

He looks at Kevin interacting with your friends, the conversation seeming so natural, easy for him to act like he had been friends with them forever, even if they had just met. Nolan was almost never like that, more quiet, off to the side just watching whatever was around him unfold while he silently passed judgement at the poor decisions people were probably making. With you, though, it already felt different. He already felt like Kevin in this case. “Roommate and teammate,” he tells you, explaining that he played for the Flyers. “What about these two? Roommates or just friends?”

“Friends, but they live together. My roommate is almost never here.”

“Oh?”

“She works the graveyard shift at CHOP a lot, so Maddy normally just spends the day at her boyfriends since he lives right there.”

He notices your change in expression, watching Fran and Lindsey. “You don’t like it,” he tells you, as if it were fact.

You shrug, looking at him. You weren’t sure if the color on his cheeks was there for a reason, but you didn’t really care either way. Part of you almost hoped it was because he was nervous to talk to you, or whatever feeling he may be experiencing. “I spend all day with kids. Sometimes it’s nice to just come home and be alone. Plus, as long as she’s paying rent while her name is on the lease, I don’t really care where she is,” you joke, finally pulling a laugh from him.

The two of you fall into conversation, not paying attention to how much time was passing by you.

“Hey, Y/N, remember when we were going to order dinner?” Fran asks, snapping your attention away from Nolan.

“Right, oh my gosh! We haven’t figured out what we’re getting, but do you guys want to join?” you extend the offer to the guys.

They accept, starting to list off places that you could all order from. “Oh, don’t forget Keelan is coming for dinner, too,” you mention.

“Keelan?” Nolan asks.

“Her boyfriend,” Lindsey moans, not looking up from her phone as she scrolls through what was either Grubhub or Uber Eats.

“You don’t have to say it like that,” you spit. Lindsey and Fran didn’t particularly like Keelan, and they made it known. You were sure part of it was because they were both single and still bitter about it, the other part was they assumed he was a douche, no matter how many times you told them he really wasn't, no matter how many times he proved to them that he wasn't.

“You have a boyfriend?” you hear Nolan say, unsure if he was asking you or if he was trying to process that sentence.

“Uh, yeah,” you tell him, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “He should be here by now? Maybe he’s stuck in traffic?” The other three go back to talking, figuring out where to order from, an awkward silence between you and Nolan.

He starts looking around your apartment, the decorations that he figured you put more effort into than Maddy had, only on the basis that she was never there. “Wait,” Nolan asks, spotting the one thing hanging behind your TV that he wished he hadn’t, “You like the Penguins?”

The conversation between your friends and Kevin stops, Kevin’s head following Nolan’s gaze to the “Reserved parking: Penguins fans only” metal sign that you tried so hard to hide. Fran and Lindsey start laughing, you rolling your eyes. “Keel is from Pittsburgh. His biggest flaw is that he’s a Pittsburgh sports fan. He left it here so I just put it on the wall because I kept tripping over it on the floor.”

“It could be worse,” Nolan says, a smirk on his face as he looks at Kevin. “He could like New England sports.”

“Watch yourself, Patty,” Kevin says, causing a bickering match between the two of them. You listen to them, watching Nolan become more animated than he had been when he first came in, becoming more comfortable around you and your friends.

You didn’t even remember why they had knocked on your door in the first place, you were just happy they did.

“Hey, it’s me,” you hear someone call from your door.

“We’re in here,” you respond, knowing it was Keelan, finally arriving from work.

“We?” he finally appears, forgetting that you were at least going to be joined by the girls, definitely not expecting the boys to be there, too. “Hey, I’m Keelan,” he introduces himself to Nolan and Kevin, saying hi to Fran and Lindsey despite their lack of acknowledgement of him before he kisses you hello. He wanders into the kitchen to grab his own chair when you look over to Nolan. He was staring at his hands the red in his cheeks burning brighter than they had been before. Before you can ask him if something was up, Keelan was back, putting his chair as close to yours as he could, his arm slung around the back as if to mark you as his.

“Where did we order from?” Keelan finally asks once Fran pointed out that the food would be getting there soon.

“Snap,” Lindsey says, popping the ‘p’ at the end.

Keel turns to you, waiting for you to tell him what he was getting. “I got you the Sweet n’slow.” He scrunches his face up at the mention of what you thought was his favorite pizza from there. “What? That’s what you always get.”

“Yeah but last time I said I wanted to have something else.”

“Sorry,” you apologize, even though you really didn’t think you had to.

“Well what did you get, maybe we can trade?”

Nolan was sitting awkwardly next to you, listening to what you hoped wouldn’t turn into any sort of argument between you and your boyfriend. “I got the Kennett Square.”

“Oh, I’ll just eat yours then,” Keelan says as if it weren’t a big deal.

You look at him, confused as to how he would miss the biggest reason why you wouldn’t eat that pizza: “Then what do I eat? I don’t like the Sweet n’slow, that’s why I don’t order it.”

“He can have mine, I’ll take the pizza,” Nolan offers.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to,” you start, only for Keelan to cut you off.

“Thanks man, I appreciate that.”

You scoff at him. How could he take a pizza from a guy he doesn’t know, when you had ordered him something he had gotten time and time again since you frequent the pizza place often enough? You get cut off again, something that was happening a lot today but Fran asking you to help her bring in the pizzas.

“I can’t carry six of them by myself!”

You let out a sigh, leaving Nolan and Keelan to fend for themselves with your empty chair between them. “The boxes aren’t even that big you totally could have grabbed these by yourself.”

“Well, yeah, but oh, my god!” Fran starts squealing, “Nolan totally likes you!”

You give her the side eye, taking the pizzas from the guy who clearly felt awkward by the conversation. “I just met him.”

“Love at first sight, duh.”

“I have a boyfriend,” you counter.

“You’re not denying it.”

“I’m not acknowledging it, there’s a difference.”

“You two are going to fall in love,” she tells you.

You stop outside your door, keeping your voice down so no one on the other side has a chance to hear it. “If he does, then that’s his problem. I’m dating Keelan, I love Keelan, and that’s that.” She shrugs, clearly not believing what you were saying. She reaches for the door, you sticking your foot out to stop her from being able to open it. “What?”

“I think you like him, too.”

“I mean he’s a cool guy from the, what, hour that I’ve been talking to him?”

“You like him.”

“As a friend. If that. I barely know him. I didn’t even know he and Kevin were my neighbors until they knocked on my door because you two are too loud.”

“Whatever,” she huffs, trying to open the door again, your foot still in its way, “I’m just saying, when you and Keelan break up, we both know that Nolan is going to be the one who you run to and who you end up being with.”

“Excuse me?” you say, not getting anything out of her as she manages to open your door, barging back into your apartment and figuring out which pizza goes to who.

There was no way she could see something between you and Nolan, could she? You met that day, and sure, he was easy to talk to, sure he was attractive, but that didn’t mean anything. Finding someone pretty does not always mean you are attracted to them. You were attracted to Keelan, turning to your boyfriend as he eats what should have been Nolan’s salad. You loved him, you loved everything about him. So why is that something you need to remind yourself of now that you’re sitting next to Nolan?

“Buddy, cat, why are you eating pizza? You don’t like pizza,” Kevin’s words pull you out of you the trance you fell into.

You turn to him, just watching him shrug as his cheeks get more red, picking at the over abundance of meat that was on the pizza. You turn to Keelan, watching him as he eats the salad like nothing was wrong. “You’re being an ass,” you say, getting up and retreating to the kitchen, leaving the five of them there in your living room.

Why would Nolan offer up his food if he didn’t like pizza to begin with? There’s no way that Fran could be right about him liking you, right? He just met you. He didn’t know you. You had been talking all of an hour of your life, barely knowing anything about him. But fuck, why was it easy to talk to him?

“Hey,” you hear Keelan say, turning to him and scowling at him.

“You really couldn’t eat the pizza I ordered for you? The same pizza that you get every single time, even when you do say you’re going to order something different? He doesn’t even like pizza and now he has nothing to eat.”

“I ordered him new food.”

“For what?” you ask, clearly not amused, “So he can sit and wait to eat while we finish everything, and then he awkwardly sits there eating by himself while the rest of us are talking? He doesn’t really seem like the kind of guy who enjoys something like that, Keel.”

He looks down at his feet,while the two of you stand there. You were tempted to walk up to him, giving in and pushing yourself away from the part of the counter you were leaning on. You wrap your arms around his waist, his own snaking around you and pulling you close to him. “What’s up with you? You’re not like that.” Keelan kisses the top of your head, lingering there as you hear him mumble something. “What was that?”

“He likes you.”

“Oh, not you, too,” you whine, pushing away from him.

“It’s obvious! Come on!” he says, his voice raising a little bit. You were hoping that the rest of them couldn’t hear you in the living room, but you knew they all could. The apartment was small, the walls thin, and if the boys could hear your music from their place, they could hear the two of you talking in the kitchen.

“If it were so obvious, then I would have picked up on it,” you try to counter.

“Babe, I liked you for three years before you finally caught on. For someone whose entire livelihood involves teaching kids that one of the most important things in life is noticing what’s going on around them, you don’t see anything.”

“That’s mean and you know it,” you tell him.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. And, plus, they’re Flyers,” he cringes.

“You’ve lived in Philly for six years now and Sidney Crosby is never going to fuck you, get over it,” you counter, knowing that his love of the Penguins captain was the only thing keeping him from liking Nolan and Kevin as guys and not as two of the Flyers.

“The Flyer’s are our biggest rivals!”

“You say ‘our’ like you’re on the team but we both know you can’t skate for shit.”

“Hey, when you’re a fan, you’re part of the team.”

“Jesus Christ, what are we even fighting about?” you yell, silence falling around you as you know that your friends and neighbors heard every word.

He rubs his hands on his face, letting out a deep groan. “I don’t even fucking know. Just don’t get too close to him.”

“He’s just my neighbor. That’s it.”

“Please?”

You roll your eyes at him, knowing that he was being ridiculous. “Fine. I won’t. But you have nothign to worry about with him. I'm dating you. I have been dating you for, what, three years almost?”

He pulls you close to him, tilting your chin up towards him with his thumb before he kisses you. “I love you,” he tells you, holding you tight.

“I love you, too,” you say, resting your head against his chest for a minute.

The two of you go back and join everyone else, Nolan sitting there quietly while Fran, Lindsey, and Kevin were deep in conversation. If they heard anything that happened between you and Keelan, they were doing a good job of pretending they didn’t. “Oh, Y/N, perfect. We were telling Nolan and Kevin about that one night in the library when Danielle brought the roller blades.”

“Oh, no,” you groan, knowing exactly what she was talking about.

“So Danielle and Alli are rollerblading across the bridge that connects the new side and the old side of the library, the same floor was connected that way so you could cross over without having to swipe in and out,” Fran starts to explain, “but the old side was built lower than the new side, so when you went from new to old, there was a decline in the bridge. Danielle turns to Y/N here and says, ‘Hey, we’re the same size, do you want to try skating?’”

“Please don’t” you beg, even though you had a smile on your face. It was one of your more embarrassing moments from college, but looking back, you couldn’t help but laugh at the antics you guys had pulled when you were supposed to be studying.

“Oh, no, we’re going to. So she puts on the skates, and Dani practically launches her down the atrium bridge and she has no balance whatsoever.”

“Yeah, she couldn’t stop either,” Keelan says, “Luckily I was there to catch her before she fell flat on her face.”

You roll your eyes, leaning up against his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. “Yeah, and then you said the worst pickup line ever.”

“Oh, what was it?” Kevin asks, his face red from laughing probably too hard.

“I think I said, ‘Wow, I knew one day you’d fall for me.’”

“I don’t know why I went out with you after that,” you joke, Keelan kissing the top of your head. You glance over to Nolan, the stoic expression covering his face.

“Me neither,” Fran mumbles, Lindsey nodding in agreement.

“I don’t think you want me to expose some of the shit you two did when we were in the library,” you counter, feeling Keelan’s touch retreat. He knew pretty much everything they did in there. The library at your school was the most social place on campus, an academic building where absolutely everyone hung out no matter what was going on. People would meet there, leave their stuff unattended for hours, the unspoken rule that if you had a table with your stuff there, no one would take it. You could get up and leave at any point, you could mess around like you did when you were rollerblading, and even do the things Lindsey and Fran did.

"Hey, maybe Nolan could teach Y/N how to skate," Kevin offers, seeing where the conversation was about to go, only earning and small, 'dude,' from Nolan.

“Like what?” Lindsey tempts you, none of you acknowledging what Kevin had just offered.

“Like when you got drunk on a Tuesday night before your accounting exam while we were there?”

“She didn’t!” Kevin gasps.

“Oh, she did,” you say, not looking away from Lindsey as her face turned bright red. “We had a few water bottles in our fridge our sophomore year, so before we left our place, Linds had grabbed one to take with her. Apparently, someone had mixed in the bottles filled with water with the bottles filled with vodka that we would take with us to parties. Lindsey tastes it, says, ‘ah, fuck this is vodka,’ shrugs and downs the entire thing, spends the rest of the night vomiting, and had to have public safety drive her home instead of walking with Fran and I since she was too drunk to walk.”

“How’d you do on the exam, though?” Keelan asks.

“I think I got a B-?” she tries to remember. “It was accounting, though, so who cares?”

You look over at Keelan, knowing that it was another jab at him. He was a CPA, the nerdiest thing he could be, but it was something he loved, so who really cared? You could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek at her words, pulling his arm from around you. “I think I’m gonna go, I have an early morning tomorrow,” he says, kissing you before getting up.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” you point out, getting up with him.

“Yeah, I’ll see ya,” he says, practically running to the door, turning to you with his hand on the doorknob. He takes in a deep breath, his eyes closed, “He was staring at you the entire time. Please, keep your promise, ok?”

“I was telling a story, people tend to look at the person telling a story." He gives you a look, telling you to take it seriously, "You’re being paranoid, but ok, fine,” you tell him, clearly unamused.

He goes out the door and to his car, leaving you standing in your doorway watching him walk away. What were he and Fran seeing that you couldn’t? Nolan couldn’t possibly like you already, if at all. You didn’t know him. You were barely friends.

You go back into your living room, mad at your friends for practically chasing your boyfriend out of your apartment. “Can you go one day with him without being mean or rude to him?” you scold them.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t mean,” Lindsey says.

“‘It was accounting, who cares?’ He’s a fucking accountant, Linds. What about when he helped you pass your marketing classes, you know, the ones for your major? But it’s marketing, anyway, who cares?” Her lips press into a thin line, the other three silent as you talk to her like your students would be if you were in your classroom and one of the kids was acting up. “You don’t like that too much, do you?”

“God, I hate that you’re a teacher,” she mumbles, knowing that you made her feel bad for 'misbehaving.' “I’ll apologize to him next time I see him,” she says, not looking you in the eye.

“Good.”

“I think it’s time we get going,” Fran says, getting up off the floor.

Kevin stands up with Lindsey, “Yeah, we should probably go home, too.” Fran and Lindsey leave without another word, Kevin waiting for Nolan to follow him, “You coming?”

Nolan looks at you before turning to his roommate, “I think I’m going to help Y/N clean up, if you want?”

“Uh, yeah sure,” you say, watching Kevin shrug and leave. He was just being nice, you tell yourself. There were pizza boxes, napkins, utensils, whatever Keelan had ordered to make up to Nolan. The two of you start gathering everything in silence and bringing it all the kitchen, you definitely not wanting to be the first one to break it.

“So, they seem like fun,” Nolan says.

You let out a small laugh, hearing the sarcasm in his voice. “Yeah. Keelan being brought up or around turns them feral.”

“They don’t like him.”

“Oh, no, not at all. They make that very clear every chance they get.”

“Why don’t they? Like him, I mean?”

“Lindsey and Fran were on the crew team at our school,” you start to explain, “and so was Keelan. The men’s and the women’s teams did not get along at all. The guys team was favored over the AD all the time and the guys knew that and flaunted that, so any guy who was on the team during the four years they were, they automatically hate.”

He nods, trying to tie up the now full trash bag. “He doesn’t seem that bad, aside from eating my salad.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that was,” you laugh, hopping up on the counter while he still struggles to tie the bag. “That’s not like him, at all.”

The two of you remain how you were for a moment, a comfortable silence between you as Nolan stands there with the trash bag. “Um, well, I can take this out for you,” he tells you. You follow him to the door with the intention of locking it behind him, not expecting him to turn around when he does. “Do you think I could get your number? You know, Kev and I are away a lot, so if we had someone watching our place that we trusted?” he spits out.

You were definitely caught off guard, but why shouldn’t you have your neighbor's number? You pull out your phone, handing it to him as he continues to ramble, “And, of course, we can do the same for you, you know? If you’re ever away with Fran and Lindsey, or with,” he pauses, trying to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat, “with Keelan. Or anyone else.”

“Thanks, Nolan,” you tell him when he hands you your phone back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, leaving to bring your trash out. You lock the door behind him, letting out a groan. He was just awkward and quiet, that didn’t mean anything about whatever feelings he may or may not have towards you.

Nolan goes back into his place, expecting and hoping that Kevin was already tucked away in his room for the night, only to find him sitting on the couch waiting for Nolan like a parent waiting for the kid who was coming in past curfew. “Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

“What are you talking about?” Nolan huffs.

“You like her.”

Nolan turns to Kevin, arms crossed over his chest. “We just met her.”

“Oh, come on,” Kevin eggs on, getting off the couch and following Nolan to his room, “when she was scolding Lindsey like that, you were so turned on.”

Nolan shrugs, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal: “So what if I was? Sexual attraction doesn’t mean that much.”

Kevin narrows his eyes to call his roommates bluff. “With you it does.”

“Whatever,” Nolan says, trying to shut Kevin out by closing his bedroom door on him.

“Just, wait,” Kevin says, stopping him from closing it completely, “She has her boyfriend, who you just met. He’s not scrawny, he could probably take you.”

Nolan’s mouth hangs open at Kevin’s words. “What, do you think we’re going to physically fight over Y/N?”

Kevin shrugs, “You never know. Just be careful. As long as she’s with Keelan, you two are just friends. And hey, you can teach a friend how to skate."

Nolan rolls his eyes, finally getting his bedroom door closed. Just friends.

[crazy-sevens]

Heyo, I wasn’t sure eid you took requests, but if you do could you do a part two to “An Excuse to make Christmas Jokes”

This was a long time coming but hope you like it!

Part one here

***

The hero had never felt more humiliated in their entire life. Not when their voice cracked at an eighth grade talent show. Not when they tripped into the punchbowl at prom. Not even when they had to dress up in a pink rabbit costume for Halloween at fifteen because their parents made them match with their little sister. At least there weren’t any witnesses to their embarrassment this time. 

The hero sat tied up in a red ribbon, gagged, and sitting under a Christmas tree. The flush in their face being almost the exact same shade of red as the ribbon. 

The villain had been gone for about ten minutes. And the hero knew that because there was a clock on the wall. Weird for what was basically a prison cell, but the room where they were sitting in was actually a really nice living room. 

Great. That made them feel so much better about this.

They looked up at the Christmas tree as the ornaments glinted in the light. Soon enough the villain would be back bringing whatever torture device that they called the hero’s Christmas present. The hero would have to be gone before then. Gone with what they had come here for. 

But no matter what they couldn’t think around this. The ribbon was tight, binging their arms and legs together so they could barely move. They couldn’t use their powers with the gag on their mouth and nobody around to use them on. And there were dozens of guards out there, so they wouldn’t even make it out, let alone with the device. 

The hero closed their eyes and leaned against the tree. The ornaments clattered together with a soft clink. They were made of glass. At least the villain had some taste.

Wait. Glass. 

The hero scooted themselves around and kicked the tree over. They winced at the sound of the ornaments shattering, but they couldn’t worry about the noise right then. They flexed their fingers and grabbed a shard from the wreckage. It was a little difficult but they managed to cut through the ribbon with the shard. They then tore the gag off. 

They felt in their sleeve and breathed a sigh of relief when they found it; the one thing the villain’s guards hadn’t taken from them- a hairpin. They picked the lock quickly.

They smirked. Sometimes they were so good it was frightening.

And on that note, they tripped on their way out. 

Nevermind. 

Before they could pick themselves up, a boot pressed against the small of their back. “What do we have here?”

The hero reached out with their power. “Hey get off of me!”

The boot’s pressure lessened, but that was about it. Of course it wouldn’t work that easily. “And why should I do that?”

“Um, because,” the hero scrambled for a convincing story, “because you’re unsatisfied with your boss and you want them to respect you more,” they blurted out. “I can help you.” They hoped they had struck the right cord. When trying to convince someone to do something, it helped to give them a good reason to. The power enhanced those feelings and moved the person to act. The hero could only hope that the guard was unsatisfied with his boss. How that fact might relate to letting the hero go, they weren’t sure. Maybe they would actually believe the hero could help.

Who knows? This wasn’t their best work anyway.  

But it actually seemed to be working. “Really?” the guard asked.

“Uh, yes,” the hero said. “Just let me up and we can talk all about your feelings and maybe try to start a union or something.”

The boot left their back. The hero stood up and brushed themselves off. Then they punched the guard square in the jaw. The guard fell over unconscious.

Then they dragged him back into the room, tied his hands and feet together with scraps of the ribbon, then they tied the gag around his mouth. They smirked. Now they were starting to feel better.

They walked over to the foyer, the sounds of music and chatter echoing through the door to their left. They could leave. Sneak out through a vent or something. But they couldn’t pass up this opportunity. The villain thought they were taken care of, so it would be perfect to find the device. 

They snuck through the house. 

No, house wasn’t really a good description. More like a mansion. Or a palace. It wasn’t very inconspicuous, but it was one of the most guarded places in the city so it didn’t really have to be. With that in mind, the hero knew they had to keep sharp, and they had to be patient. 

The latter being the most difficult. 

They regretted knocking out the guard. He could’ve given the hero a tour. But now they were just stuck checking every room. There was nothing for a while. 

Nothing until they found the villain’s office. 

It was pretty average in terms of officeness. No signs of villainy about it. No giant swirly chair to turn dramatically in, no assortment of stuffed creatures, no giant red button that opened a trap door for someone on the other side to drop through. 

It was disappointing to say the least. 

They searched all the drawers, checked for false backs or secret openings, but still nothing. But then they looked in the file cabinet. There were multiple files for people whose names the hero didn’t recognize, but at the front of them all was a file marked, Arch Nemesis.

Of course. 

They grabbed the file and tucked it under their arm. They couldn’t read it now. They only had so much time left before the party ended. If the device wasn’t in the next room they would cut their losses and leave.

But one thing they failed to notice: it was quiet. That wouldn’t be much of a problem normally, but when they had searched before they could still hear pieces of loud conversation and music through the hallways. There was none of that now. The party was already over. 

And the hero realized that too late. 

“Really you couldn’t wait ten minutes for me to come back? Admit it, you missed me.”

Before the hero could turn around, strong hands grabbed their arms, pinning them behind their back. The file dropped out of their hands.

The villain hummed into their ear. “Someone’s been looking into things they shouldn’t have.”

The hero tried to kick but the villain only responded by kicking the hero’s legs out from under them. They bracketed the hero’s hips with their own, and they kept the hero’s arms pinned above their head. 

“Get off of me.” The hero growled.

The villain rolled their eyes. “You really can’t get it into your head that your powers don’t work on me, can you?”

“What can I say? I’m stubborn,” the hero said. “And you’re a liar.”

The villain laughed. “You can hide it all you want, hero, but I know the curiosity is driving you crazy. A problem you could never solve.” 

The hero struggled, but the villain’s grip was like iron. “It’s not a problem. I can beat you without my powers.”

They could taste that lie in their mouth like bile. No they couldn’t. They could never beat the villain without backup and the villain knew it.

They shook their head. “You know I wasn’t going to tell you before I gave you the present, but I really think you’ve earned it.” They leaned in close. “I have the same powers as you do.”

The hero stopped struggling. “What?”

“I know! It was a little . . . frustrating at first, I can’t use my powers on you either, but you’ve been the most interesting hero yet.” Using one hand the villain pulled something out of their pocket. It looked like a dog collar. “I have learned that if you simply disable the other person’s powers, instead of cancelling out, your powers will finally work on them.” 

The hero’s heart stopped. That’s what the agency had sent them looking for. 

It had all been a setup.

The villain’s smile widened. “So, Merry Christmas. I know it’s early, but, hey, you’re worth it.”

“Keep that thing away from m-”

The hero’s voice died when the villain clipped the collar on.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 8

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Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo

Tim woke up the next morning, because that’s how things work.

He fought back a groan as he slowly flexed each muscle individually, making sure that everything was still working. To his surprise, it actually was. His brain stuttered to a stop. Why had he been asleep, then? He was pretty sure it wasn’t his usual sleep day…

Then, he finally processed the fact that his face was pressed to something that definitely wasn’t his pillow.

He cracked an eye open. He was laying on top of Marinette, head resting on her stomach. She was still asleep, he noted, one of her hands was thrown over her eyes and the other tangled in his hair.

He vaguely considered just staying there. He could stay in that position forever…

Except he couldn’t. He had responsibilities. He was pretty sure that if he skipped both patrols and work his family would assume he’d been brainwashed in some way.

So, reluctantly, he pushed himself up and reached a hand out to poke Marinette awake.

She grumbled a little and caught his hand, blinking her eyes open. She looked up at him for a moment, uncomprehending in her sleepy state, and he couldn’t help but smile. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before clambering away from their tangle of limbs so he could take a quick shower and get ready.

First, though, he started up the coffee machine. He’d known that she’d had coffee, he’d been there when she bought it... but, really, if she was worried enough to lie about it he’d at least try and alleviate those fears a little.

That done, he took a quick shower. He already had a towel and toothbrush at the house -- wow, Marinette really wasn’t joking, he had basically moved in already, oops -- so he used those.

Then he pulled on the outfit she’d made him. By the time he needed help lacing up the corset, Marinette had stumbled into the room in a daze.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello?”

She held out one of two mugs for him and he was forced to hide his smile behind his cup.

“Could you help me with this,” he asked.

She nodded and downed her entire mug before walking behind him. He felt her forehead tip forward to rest against the back of his shoulder as she worked and he was very glad she couldn’t see his face because he was sure that he was beginning to get redder than their costumes.

She pulled the lace tight and tied it off and he had no clue if the tightness in his chest was because she had laced him too tightly or because of nerves but either way he didn’t really mind. He turned back around, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll see you later?”

She smiled at him. “I’ll make some bacon for you to eat on the go. Don’t want you to be hungry.”

He considered saying no but, really, he didn’t see her all that often in the morning and he had to admit that it was pretty cute. “If you remember to make some for yourself then sure.”

She hummed a little and turned around to go make food. He’d check on her in a few minutes to make sure she hadn’t fallen back asleep while cooking.

For now, he absently checked his clothes over for bugs. It was an old habit from years of living with the bats and, had he been even slightly more awake, he wouldn’t have done it.

Except he did. And there, hidden in the cuff of his shirt, was a bug.

… he hadn’t even been this happy when Damian had bugged him for the first time. She cared about him and his well-being! He was accepted!

When he made his way back into the kitchen he made sure to give her a long hug.

~

Marinette was so tired. She had been working on attaching the diamonds to Cassandra Wayne’s dress and there were so fucking many.

So, when Robin climbed through her window, all she did was give a vague wave of acknowledgement.

“You need better window locks,” he informed her.

“Most people don’t know how to pick every lock in existence, kid.”

“But some do.”

She thought about whether or not she really wanted this to be the argument that took up valuable work time. The answer was no, definitely not.

She finally turned to face him, resting her cheek against the couch. She didn’t know Damian personally outside of messing with Tim when they were in their superhero identities, she wasn’t even completely sure that this was Damian (though he did match up with the measurements she had for his outfits), so there was no good reason for him to be there.

She squinted suspiciously at him. Now that she was paying attention, she could see that he had his hands behind his back.

“What do you want?”

“I saw on your lease that you are allowed to have pets in your apartment.”

Oh no.

“Please tell me you didn’t,” she whispered, her voice close to begging.

He slowly brought his hands out from behind his back to reveal a black cat with almost luminous green eyes. She rested her head in her hands, taking deep breaths to remain calm.

“I wish to coparent with you.”

“... your dad didn’t let you get another pet?”

(Yes, she knew about the pet problem. She had seen Batcow. She had seen the Batbats all over the cave that he had apparently taken in.)

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Possibly.”

She slowly lifted her head from her hands to glare at him. Unfortunately for her, he puffed out his little baby cheeks in a pout and, even if most of what she did was played up to mess with Tim, she was weak for little kids that look sad.

“Fine. But you’re paying for everything and you better actually help me take care of it.”

“She! And her name is Vanelope!”

“Van --?” She decided she didn’t care. She glanced at Damian’s still disapproving expression and rolled her eyes before leaning down to be at the cat’s eye level: “I’m sorry for calling you an ‘it’, Vanelope.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied by her begrudging apology.

“C’mon, put Vanelope down, we’re going to the pet store.”

Damian beamed. She pulled the front of his hood down over his eyes in retaliation for the dumb situation he’d put her in. Revenge achieved, she transformed and ducked out her window before she could get stabbed.

~

Scarecrow’s parties were always the best.

For one thing, there was the haunted house. Scarecrow took the whole ‘scaring people’ thing very seriously, it was his whole shtick, so you could always count on him to dream up the best haunted houses. Even better, he’d give out brownies laced with minute traces of fear toxin to make the whole thing just a little bit scarier.

Speaking of brownies: the food. Tim was pretty sure that some of the stuff served at the parties could rival the things Marinette and Alfred made.

Then there were the venues he picked. They had to get bigger every year, what with Bruce’s adoption problem and the Rogue’s ever-expanding roster. This year the man had rented out an entire park and the building nearby. The building had a dance floor and a kind of second floor that overlooked everyone. The park held all the people that the building could not.

Add in the fact that every single person was probably clinically insane in some way or another and you’d have the reason for why he was always excited to go.

Tim attended the party as a Red Robin employee. He had to, it was on brand.

Marinette raised her eyebrows when she saw him. She’d gotten there before him, which had been a little bit of a surprise. He’d thought she’d at least wait for a few vigilantes to come to make sure it was safe --.

Oh. Nevermind. He stifled a grin when his eyes landed on a blonde in an outfit he recognized as Cassie’s. He was pretty sure dressing up as Wonder Girl was betraying the bats but he wasn’t going to be the one to call Steph out on it. Cassie was pretty cool...

Cassie -- no, Steph -- was suddenly grabbed by the arm by an excited Marinette and pulled her over to him. Marinette was wearing a pirate costume and he suspected that the bottle of wine in her free hand was more than an accessory.

“Red Robin, yum~,” both women chorused.

He rolled his eyes. “They’ve infected you already. Soon you’ll be disappearing into the shadows without ending conversations.”

Marinette grinned, the corner of her mask (now tinted black in some places to mimic a pirate’s beard) twitching. “It’s about time you assholes got a taste of your own medicine.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Y’know, for someone who didn’t like the idea of the party before, you sure did get into your outfit.’

“Please, I put effort into all my outfits.”

“Except for the Ladybug one,” teased Steph.

She huffed. “I was on a time crunch --.”

Tim grinned. “That’s no excuse.”

“... you had thought about it for who knows how long and not only did you come up with the name Drake, but you also came up with an ugly brown outfit. You don’t get a say in this.”

Steph grinned. “And me?”

“Your outfits are okay,” said Marinette after a few second’s thought.

Tim gasped in mock offense. “And I thought we were friends.”

“Friends call each other out for their stupid fashion choices.”

Steph smirked and slung her arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “And, really, you need an intervention.”

When did they start ganging up on Tim?

“Whatever. This outfit is nice, so that makes up for all past mistakes.”

“It’d be nicer if you didn’t make the same joke every year,” Steph teased.

He huffed and pouted, but then something caught his eyes. Dick had arrived, Tim could see him perched on a second floor railing in his work clothes… of course, the name tag marking him as Nurse Grayson was gone, but it was still the same light blue scrubs.

He paled a little under his domino for two reasons. The first was the instantaneous worry about their identities; sure, Gotham had many medical workers, but who knows, Gotham and Bludhaven twitter both insisted that Dick had a very distinct body. The second was Marinette was going to end up liking Dick quite a lot -- she already looked up to him for his fighting style, there was no way she was going to be able to resist the signature Grayson charm that had won over every superhero, vigilante, and villain on Earth (and a few other planets as well).

He knew that, inevitably, Dick would win her over… but he was definitely going to stall it as much as he possibly could.

So, he pulled a grin to his face. “Oh, Ladybug, you haven’t gone in the haunted house yet, have you?”

She gave him a slightly wary look. “I don’t do good with scary things.”

He grinned. “I’ll protect you.”

She raised her eyebrows slightly before sighing. “Fine.”

So, they made their way across the park to the haunted house. Scarecrow had, somehow, built an entire house in the one month since he had broken out of Arkham. It looked like it had been torn right out of a video game, with the blackened, decaying, and peeling wood and rickety steps.

Jonathan Crane smiled when he saw the two of them approaching. He was dressed as a scarecrow, but the one from the Wizard of Oz instead of the creepy one he was usually dressed as.

“Crane!” Tim greeted.

Crane held out the plate of fear toxin brownies for them. “Nice to see you, Red Robin. And nice to meet you, Ladybug.”

Marinette blushed a little, her head tipping to the side. “I’d shake your hand but you haven’t set down that tray the entire time I’ve been here. Starting to think you can’t.”

He laughed a little. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

Tim smiled a little and popped a brownie in his mouth. Fear toxin tasted a lot like chili powder and, he had to admit, it was pretty good.

Marinette took a brownie with a lot more hesitance.

“Oh! Have you been exposed to fear toxin yet?” Asked Crane before she could take a bite.

Marinette looked a little worried about the use of the word ‘yet’.

Marinette shook her head, though. “No.”

“Then your immunity isn’t built up. I’d suggest just eating half of that.”

She nodded thoughtfully and broke the brownie in half. She held the halves in her hand awkwardly, unsure what to do now.

“I’ll take the half you haven’t eaten,” suggested Crane.

He set down the tray -- Tim swore he could hear a cartoon sound effect as the man struggled to unstick his hand to the metal -- and took her other half.

“Since it’s a lower dose it’ll probably take longer to take effect,” said Tim. “We’ll have to wait a bit so you can have the full experience.”

Marinette took a tentative bite and her eyes lit up. “This is really good. What’s your recipe?”

Apparently, Crane had once tried to replicate the taste with normal chili powder and had fallen short. Tim watched the two of them theorize what it could be that his attempts had been missing. It was clear that Marinette had missed living in a bakery more than she was willing to admit and, unfortunately, none of the bats were particularly good at even cooking basic meals, let alone the kinds of things she was able to do. Alfred was the only exception and, even then, Bruce wouldn’t let him near her most of the time because of Identity Reasons. Tim was glad that she had someone to talk to about it, he just kinda wished that that person wasn’t a Rogue.

Tim jolted out of watching them when Marinette started rubbing up and down her arms absently. Ah, the toxin must be setting in for her now.

“Ladybug, ready to head inside?”

She blinked and looked up from the conversation. “Oh. Sure. I’ll talk to you later!”

“I’ll try not to get thrown into Arkham by anyone else while you’re gone,” joked Crane.

Tim grinned and took Marinette’s hand, pulling her inside.

It turns out she actually wasn’t all that good with scary things. Or, at least, jumpscares. She clung to his arm, dull nails doing their best to dig into his skin.

On one hand, he kind of felt bad for telling her to come along. On the other hand he thought it was kind of cute, maybe the next movie they watched together could be a horror.

He would probably be able to enjoy it a little more if he wasn’t tripping out on fear toxin himself. There was a creepy little girl following them around and he wasn’t going to acknowledge her and her creepy little white clothes because talking to hallucinations is always bad.

But then, towards the end, she disappeared.

He didn’t like that either. It set him on edge. It shouldn’t, the fear toxin was just wearing off… but he didn’t feel like it was wearing off. He was still a little shaky and the buzzing under his skin was still present, so maybe she’d been real and something was up.

He got his answer when he heard the sound of little feet dashing overhead.

Marinette squeaked and her grip on his arm tightened, somehow.

When the end was in sight and Tim was waiting anxiously for the final scare, he heard someone running towards them. High pitched laughter echoed around them.

“Oh fuck no,” he yelped when he saw the little girl running towards them, arms outstretched, pretty white dress splattered with red.

Marinette seemed to agree with the sentiment. She nearly pulled his arm out of its socket as she pushed herself into a sprint. He stumbled awkwardly a few steps before catching his footing and returning the tight grip.

And then, like the vigilantes with nerves of steel they were, they ran from the child.

~

She tried to look calm when the door swung shut behind them. She was pretty good at managing her emotions, she thought (or, at least, good at pushing them down).

But it wasn’t necessary because, when they reached the safety of the outside, they were handed a framed picture of them sprinting away from the creepy little girl, horror written plainly on their faces.

She blushed, more than a little embarrassed.

Thankfully, she was quickly distracted from her embarrassment. Her eyes landed on Bruce, who was dressed as a vampire. She waved for his attention, intending to point out the similarities in their outfits to mess with him, only for his eyes to zero in on the wine bottle in her hand.

Marinette mumbled a curse.

She turned and pressed a ‘kiss’ to Tim’s cheek through her mask. “Gotta go,” she chirped, before promptly disappearing into the crowd.

Alright, time to avoid Bruce. Where is the last place she’d be? Actually, no, he’d probably check the last place...

Her eyes landed on where Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn were hanging out by the drinks.

Hm... a negative (people she was wary about) and a positive (drinks!) to balance each other out. A good middle ground.

She walked over and picked up a weird drink with a lot of different candies sticking out of it. She did not know why Scarecrow felt the need to sully the good name of alcohol with American candies but, since it was apparently the only option, she slipped a straw under her mouth to drink.

The drink was taken from her fingers.

She looked at her now-empty hand, brain struggling to catch up, straw hanging limply from her mouth. Then she spat out the straw and cursed.

She slowly turned to look at the person who had stolen it from her, expecting to see a disappointed Bruce, only to meet eyes with Poison Ivy.

(Ivy had dressed up as a stereotypical martian. Marinette wondered, vaguely, if actual aliens were ever offended when people dressed up like the movie versions of them.)

“I’d like that back, thanks,” she said, reaching for the drink.

She held it out of reach -- holy shit she was tall -- and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her. “You’re a child.”

“I’m nineteen.”

“Exactly: a child,” she said.

Marinette rolled her eyes. Was this how Damian felt? Damn, no wonder he was always so angry about it… but, to be fair, Damian actually was a child. She was nineteen. She had a job and an apartment. Completely different.

But, since convincing Ivy she wasn’t a child wasn’t working, she had to come up with a new approach: “I’ve been drinking since I was six.”

For some reason, this didn’t seem to soothe the woman in front of her.

Thankfully, Harley Quinn -- who was wearing a knockoff Riddler costume -- decided to take pity on her: “Let her drink, Ives, Europeans drink differently than we do.”

Marinette and Poison Ivy exchanged confused looks. Marinette hadn’t gone out drinking with anyone properly in America outside of occasionally dropping into bars to trick old men into giving her drinks and then disappearing. Poison Ivy just, apparently, wasn’t aware of the difference.

“For them it’s a social thing, they don’t really get drunk like we do.”

Ivy hesitated. “You don’t get drunk?”

“I mean… we can get drunk,” she said slowly. She cringed visibly. “I did, once. The day I turned eighteen my mom told me ‘Just this once, to see what it’s like’... the pictures… they deleted them, but I will never live it down...”

She reached for the drink again and, this time, Ivy gave it to her. She was lucky she had her mask to hide the smirk on her face.

When Poison Ivy didn’t leave after that, Marinette knit her eyebrows together. The woman blushed (she blushed green?) and Harley pushed her towards Marinette a step.

“I would like to apologize for how we met…” Ivy said slowly. “Joker was an asshole in Arkham and I’d had a fight with Harley and I guess I just…” She snapped her fingers.

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “It’s fine. It’s not the first world-ending event I’ve had to stop because someone had had a bad day.”

Harley hesitated. “That’s… different.”

She shrugged. “New city, same shit… just sometimes easier, I guess. People are actually scared of Joker?”

“Now, that isn’t very nice!” Said a painfully cheery voice behind her.

She’d summoned him.

Marinette took a long, deep breath, before turning around to greet Joker and Punchline. They were dressed as circus clowns, because of course they would. “Hey! Still alive, I see.”

Joker smiled, like he always did. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Pretty sure you’ve died more than B-man over there,” said Harley.

“No clue why they keep bringing you back.”

Marinette’s eyebrows scrunched together. The man had died? And they had brought him back? Willingly? Weird.

“It’s ‘cause I’m Batsy’s favorite,” cooed Joker.

“Favorite punching bag, maybe,” said Ivy.

Marinette, wisely, decided to back up a step so she wasn’t between the two fighting groups.

“At least people pick him as their first choice,” said Punchline.

“You’d be the expert on what it’s like to be the second choice, I guess, since you’re just me but purple,” said Harley.

“I’m you but self-aware,” Punchline corrected her.

Ivy raised her eyebrows. “Some would say that’s worse.”

Punchline almost punched her.

She didn’t stop because of some amazing show of self-restraint, of course. Nightwing had just chosen that moment to drop down between the two groups. And then Nightwing, with his all-amazing powers of getting pretty much everyone on his side, got them to declare a truce and go to opposite sides of the room.

Marinette was a little disappointed as she took a sip of her drink. It had just started getting good.

But also: Nightwing!

“Is it true that you can do a quadruple somersault?”

Nightwing smiled widely.

~

Tim was beginning to think that maybe Marinette was so interested in Dick because she was secretly his long lost sister or something. They had the same ability to make even some of the worst people like them.

But, no. Dick having a secret half sister or something? How stupid would that be?

Still, Tim had seen her making friends with: all of his siblings that lived in Gotham, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Dick (damn it, he’d hoped he could keep them apart just a little longer)... the only people she hadn’t gotten to like her were Punchline and Joker, and even then she was choosing to annoy them, who knows what would happen if she actually tried to befriend them… and now she was hanging out with Riddler...

He sat next to them on their bench. “I’m beginning to think you can’t make friends with anyone normal.”

She grinned. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

Riddler (dressed as the gameshow host he would probably be if he hadn’t gone off the deep end) looked over at Tim with barely hidden disdain. “Red Robin,” he greeted coolly.

Marinette frowned. “Why don’t you like him?”

“Him and all the bats… they always answer my riddles before I finish telling them.”

“Well, that’s an easy fix: Red, wait until he finishes telling the riddles before answering.”

He scoffed. “Why would I?”

“For the drama!” Riddler said in a tone that made it obvious he thought it was obvious.

“Half the time you have people’s lives on the line. Lower the stakes and maybe we’ll be more attuned to the dramatic tension.”

Riddler scowled. “You bats just don’t appreciate my art.”

“You’d think that they’d be all for drama.”

“Right? They have a whole brooding cave! But I want high stakes and suddenly I’m too concerned with the vibes of things.”

Marinette grinned and leaned towards Riddler conspiratorially. “They have more than a brooding cave. They have brooding gargoyles, brooding rooftops, brooding cars… I once caught Red over there brooding on his motorbike. Who can brood on a motorcycle? It’s a motorcycle!”

Tim huffed. “I thought we agreed to keep that a secret.”

“Sorry, darling, it’s just too easy to mess with you.”

Tim started to respond, but then he realized something.

‘Darling’?

That could mean one of three things. He needed to excuse himself from the conversation to figure out which was the truth.

He sent the two of them a halfhearted glare. “I will not put up with this bullying any longer.”

“Fine, fine. If you’re going to come back, bring me a cookie.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “If I must.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off, a man on a mission.

After questioning all of the family she had talked to (she had yet to meet Jason, apparently), he determined that she didn’t use nicknames all that often. When she did it was usually just to make things quicker for herself. The only people outside of him that she ever used nicknames for were Bruce (‘B’) and maybe Damian (‘kid’).

And he had a nickname like that, too, of course. She called him ‘Red’ from time to time, probably just because she was too lazy to go through the hassle of saying his entire codename.

… but ‘darling’ was different. He had a pet name. In both identities, apparently.

Which meant one of two things:

a) he was special to her in both identities

or b) she knew he was Red Robin.

He was kinda hoping for the first one, but he wasn’t about to let emotions cloud his judgement. He sought out the world’s only accurate lie detector.

He found her surveying the crowd with Jason. They looked like they’d been transported directly from the renaissance, with her plague doctor outfit and his Shakespeare costume.

Tim grinned at them despite his slight anxiety. “Nice of you to bring a Green Arrow costume back from Star City, Flamebird.”

Jason touched the ugly goatee and mustache that both of them shared before sending him a glare. “And you all wonder why I don’t come home more often.”

“Really? I thought it was because you and Roy were --.”

Jason’s face reddened with either anger or embarrassment, Tim didn’t know and didn’t particularly care as his brother left them in a huff.

He couldn’t see Cass’s face but he could feel the disapproval.

“I just… I wanted to ask you something in private…”

Cass didn’t leave, so he assumed it was okay.

“Does Ladybug know our identities?”

Cass was motionless for a moment and he wished she didn’t have such a bulky outfit because it was hard to get a read on her…

And then she nodded, tapping the side of her forehead (the sign for ‘know’) to further emphasize the point.

He looked down at where Marinette was excitedly describing something to an enthused Riddler.

He’d been anxious about her finding out but, now that she had, he found that it was a huge weight off his shoulders. She knew who he was and she accepted it.

He leaned against the railing, a smile threatening to make its way across his face.

She accepted him.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Libel (Part 2)

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: John, Scott, Grandma, Tracy Family

Day 6 “touch and go” for @whumptober-archive and for the prompt bruises my muses decided to add on to my day 3 chapter, so have a rather displeased John.  I’m not expecting this one to go any further, but then again I wasn’t expecting to add onto it at all, so who knows what’ll happen the rest of this month.

<<< Part 1

Grandma was waiting for them when they got home, the smell of something heavenly and clearly take-out wafting through the front door as it opened, and John felt a flash of guilt for forgetting to warn her about Scott’s physical condition when her mouth parted slightly in clear shock.

Scott’s weight had increased against him slowly but steadily as they’d finished the trek home, until his head was resting against John’s and his arm hung awkwardly around his shoulder. His eyes were rimmed with an angry red, and salted tear tracks cut down across the blossoming bruises.  One eye, in addition to the tell-tale sign of crying, was swelling shut with a purple-black mark blooming around it, but while that was the worst mark on his face, there was barely any untouched skin. The exposed arms were also littered with colour, including vibrant handprints that told a story all of their own.

John was certain that Scott’s t-shirt was concealing more.

“What happened?” Grandma demanded after a moment, swooping in and gingerly cupping Scott’s face in her hands.  His brother’s messenger bag dropped to the floor, and John let his own do the same without ever relinquishing his grip around Scott’s waist.  Scott was clearly feeling the emotional damage more than the physical, but that didn’t mean that the physical didn’t promise pain in his brother’s future.

The weight against him increased again as Scott sagged at the question.  John couldn’t see his face very well from his angle, but considering how wrecked his big brother was about the whole thing – and understandably so, in John’s furious opinion – he couldn’t envisage him repeating the tale again.

“Bullies,” he said shortly, enough to give an answer without tormenting Scott further by retelling the whole thing in his earshot.  At some point the rest of the family needed to know that Scott and Christie were no longer together – preferably before one of them made an innocent comment – but he wasn’t going to dredge that up in Scott’s vicinity.

In his pocket, Scott’s phone hadn’t stopped vibrating with incoming messages.  If they were all along the same vein as the ones John had seen initially, he was very glad he’d decided to, for all intents and purposes, confiscate his big brother’s phone.  He’d probably need to change his number before it was safe to give it back.

“Terrible children,” Grandma muttered beneath her breath, before slowly stepping back and letting her hands reluctantly part with Scott’s face.  “Your dinner’s in the kitchen and your brothers are upstairs in bed.”  Had they stayed out that late?  “Alan’s sharing with Virgil and Gordon tonight so you two don’t need to worry about him.”  That was a relief – John loved Alan, and neither he nor Scott minded sharing a bedroom with the youngest, but tonight the last thing Scott needed was Alan’s innocent blue eyes forcing him to struggle to hold himself together.

Dinner sounded – and smelled – inviting.  Grandma had taken his warning text seriously and gone straight for Scott’s favourites, from the smell of it.  It was definitely a pleasant surprise in John’s book, and he hoped that Scott was up for trying to stomach at least some of the comfort food.  If nothing else, the apple pie, whose cinnamon-tinted scent was wafting through invitingly, should entice his brother in.

Scott hadn’t said a word since choking out what had to be an extremely brief summary of events, and his silence continued as he kicked off his sneakers – still not separating from John for a single moment.

It was familiar behaviour;going to a brother for comfort when the world went mad was a common tactic, but the brother they all went to was Scott.  He was never the one seeking comfort – that is, until now, and John couldn’t blame him in the slightest, so he stayed close and kept one arm around his brother without saying anything, hoping that it would help Scott as much as Scott’s presence always helped him.

“Get some food in your stomachs,” Grandma instructed.  “Scott, have you taken any painkillers?”

Hair rustled in John’s ear as Scott shook his head.  He still didn’t say a word and John rubbed his back gently.

“I’ll get you some,” she said, ushering them through the kitchen door.  “Once you’ve eaten, Scott, I want you to take a hot bath.”  She didn’t wait for a response before disappearing, leaving John to guide his brother over to the table, where Scott’s favourite burger waited.

To his relief, Scott didn’t need any convincing to eat, although the way he mechanically took each bite told John that he wasn’t really tasting it.  The apple pie went down a little better – while Scott still didn’t speak, or smile, his mouthfuls seemed to be a little more organic, and irregularly frequent.  John ate his own in equal silence, aware of the still-vibrating phone in his pocket but refusing to check the messages while Scott was next to him.

Grandma reappeared with Tylenol and a cold compress as Scott sipped at the soda, both of which were gratefully received, even if Scott’s reaction remained unusually muted.  Still, he finished his meal, accepted the painkillers without a fuss, and let Grandma press the compress gently over his swollen-shut eye, which was as much as John could ask, given the situation.

All the while, Scott stayed in physical contact with him, leaning in and seemingly trusting John to hold him up so he didn’t fall to the floor.  It felt rather like a metaphor, so when Grandma eased the compress back again several minutes later and nudged Scott towards the bathroom where she promised a nice, warm bath was waiting for him he didn’t hesitate to escort him.

The door clicked shut behind them and Scott sank onto the tiled floor, wrapping his arms around his knees. John settled down beside him and put his arm around him again, letting his brother lean in to the touch.  Silence continued to reign.

Outside the room, he could hear the running feet of several brothers – probably all of them – and the subsequent scolding for running in the house, followed by a reminder that they should be in bed and that they’d see their eldest brothers in the morning. John would be very surprised if no black or blond heads poked into his and Scott’s room during the night.  Dad was moving around, apparently finally appearing from his office for food, and John heard the outraged outburst as Grandma no doubt told him about Scott.

At least John could be confident that Scott wouldn’t be allowed into school tomorrow – with both Grandma and Dad on the warpath, his brother would be kept safely at home, likely not doing any work at all, although he might poke at some of his preferred subjects.

Speaking of his brother, Scott was showing no signs of getting in the water.  John nudged him gently.  “It’s going to get cold,” he prompted.  “Do you want me to leave?”

His brother groaned lightly, but straightened enough to yank at his top.  John shifted out of the way as the fabric came off over messy brown hair, and did his best not to let his reaction show on his face.

As suspected, Scott’s torso was awful.  Bruises littered the skin, the fabric doing almost nothing to protect it from the blows it had taken, leaving it a rainbow of red hues.  One in particular caught John’s attention – a large, darker area that sprawled across one side as though it’d been hit multiple times in quick succession. It took him a moment to yank his eyes away, shifting his entire body until Scott was out of view, and not turning back until water splashed and then stilled again.

Only his brother’s head and shoulders were visible over the edge of the bath, complete with one arm hanging over the side, fingertips just brushing the cool tiles of the floor. The heat of the water was rapidly adding even more pink to Scott’s skin, as though it needed it when there were enough broken blood vessels below his brother’s skin to change the hue all by themselves.  Even with the painkillers Grandma had bestowed, John knew Scott was in for a sleepless night.

Then again, the heartbreak probably hurt more than everything else put together.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked again, already gathering his legs underneath himself in preparation.

“No,” Scott rasped, the first word he’d spoken since returning home.  His voice sounded scraped raw and weak, and John obediently settled back down again.  “Please.”

John was going to destroy everyone who had a hand in reducing his big brother to this.  There would be no mercy, and a large number of them were obligingly making his life much easier by blowing up Scott’s phone with messages his brother would never see hide nor hair of.

“Okay,” he agreed, settling his back against the toilet and shifting around until it was halfway comfortable. From that angle, Scott couldn’t see anything that might be on a phone screen, so while his big brother soaked in an attempt to ease the bruising, John got to work.

First was a message to Grandma from his own phone, giving her the basic rundown of events.  She didn’t reply, but she did leave him on read, so he knew she had seen it.

There was no doubt in John’s mind that she would do everything in her considerable influence and power to make sure Scott didn’t have to go in to school again, or at least until it all blew over.  His big brother was in good hands.

Still, John was not about to let things lie himself, either.  Scott’s phone was a veritable goldmine of information, and while there was little John could do without his laptop, he could at least take note of the names sending threats and begin to scheme how he was going to get revenge.

No one hurt his brother and got away with it.

Quiet sobs that started up after a while, muffled in a way that sounded like Scott had a hand or arm over his mouth.  John reached out for the dangling arm and tangled his fingers lightly with Scott’s even as he scoured his way through the social media of Christie’s two brothers, looking for the most damaging place to hit them back.  If he played it right, he could ruin their football aspirations with a neat black mark on their record.

Oh, he understood why they’d reacted the way they had – if he’d gone to Scott and said someone had hurt him, there was no way Scott wouldn’t have launched himself straight into the situation entirely on his side.  That didn’t mean John was going to spare them from retribution; he wasn’t that benevolent.

Christie herself he left for the moment.  If he was going to hurt everyone who had hurt Scott, he was going to destroy the girl behind it all in the first place, and that would require his full attention. It would be most efficient to eliminate everyone else involved first.

From the state of Scott’s phone, it was a long list of targets, but John was nothing if not thorough as he sifted through the hateful messages.

Some of them were truly vile, and there were threats in there that made John feel sick just thinking about them.  He set those aside to show Grandma; some things needed an adult’s intervention to handle effectively, and he was certain that some of the threats were jail-worthy if acted upon.

Scott had barely moved since getting into the bath, and John wondered if he was falling asleep in the pleasant warmth.  Part of him hoped so; it was much better than wallowing in negative thoughts, especially ones he didn’t deserve.  He squeezed his brother’s fingers lightly and was rewarded with a twitch in return.

His brother still didn’t talk.  Not when he stopped crying again, wiping away tears with a wet arm.  Not when Grandma lightly knocked on the door to suggest that they get ready for bed.  Not when he got out of the bath, either, skin pruned and wrinkly, and John averted his gaze so he didn’t see anything he didn’t want to as Scott slowly dried off.

Dad was waiting when they left the bathroom, Scott wrapped up snugly in his favourite pyjamas, and wordlessly folded Scott into a big, warm hug which his big brother sank into bonelessly.  John took the chance to slip away, finding Grandma downstairs and slipping her Scott’s phone.

She took one look at the first message on the screen and her face turned to granite.

“Neither of you are going to school tomorrow,” she told him.  John hadn’t expected to be included in that, but it was clear there was no arguing.  It worked in his favour anyway; vengeance would be easier to enact using his laptop without the prying eyes of hovering classmates.  “And whatever you’re planning, John, don’t get caught.”

She followed him back up the stairs.  Dad and Scott had migrated into their bedroom and John took the chance to get into his own pyjamas – although sleep wasn’t on his agenda just yet – before going to join them.

A door creeping open as he passed caught his attention and he paused to see three pairs of worried eyes peering out.

“Is Scott okay?”  Alan was the one that spoke, not yet aware of the nuances of the indoor voice, but making a good go at whispering regardless.  John could see the question reflected in two pairs of brown eyes as well and sighed, shoulders slumping.

“He broke up with Christie,” he explained, keeping his own voice low enough that there was no way the brother in question would be able to hear from down the hall.  It was Virgil’s eyes he met, knowing that he was the only one old enough to comprehend what his next words would mean.  “It was a bad breakup.”  Sure enough, chestnut brown eyes widened.

“But is he okay?” Gordon asked, frowning, and John swallowed, not wanting to lie, but not wanting them to worry, either.

He settled on shrugging.  “He will be.”  I hope.

They surged forwards, apparently taking that as an invitation to go see him, and John had to plant himself firmly in the doorway to stop them. There was no way Scott would want them to see him in his current state.

“Tomorrow,” he said, somewhat sharply.  “He needs space right now.”

They grumbled malcontentedly, but he stood firm, pulling upon his rarely used big brother clout to get them to obey until the door closed again.

In all likelihood, they’d be sneaking in later, but hopefully Scott would be less visibly distraught by then.

John padded into his bedroom and headed straight for his bed.  Dad was sitting with Scott on his brother’s bed, arms firmly around him and one hand running through his hair as he sobbed. From the way he was slumped, and the weakness of the sobs, Scott was on the cusp of sleep.  John wasn’t naïve enough to think that he’d sleep all through the night, not with all those bruises, but he’d gladly support any sleep Scott could get.

For his part, he pulled up his phone and continued scrolling through the names of Scott’s year mates.  Most of them had left a message on his phone.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Dad cautioned suddenly and he jumped, checking the time to see it was much later than he’d realised.  Scott was neatly tucked into bed, the vision of a perfect slumber ruined by the tear tracks down his face.

“I won’t,” he shrugged, an acknowledgement but not a promise.  “Night, Dad.”

“Goodnight, John.”  He was pulled into a brief hug, kiss pressed against his brow, before Dad slipped out of the room, leaving him with his sleeping brother.

Armed with his laptop, phone, and the simmering fury kept at a boil by the sight of his battered brother, John got to work.

[vidavalor]

Bucky’s dual-era dog tags in TFATWS (and when & where he decides to wear them) are giving me some SamBucky-related vibes...

...in addition to the just interesting stuff related to Bucky’s various identity issues. So let’s talk the dog tags. 

First things first, these really do not seem like they’re Steve’s dog tags-- they’re Bucky’s own. Why? Look at the promo still below which is the best view I’ve seen of them in TFATWS. Notice that they are not of the same era. One of the dog tags is a WW2-era tag-- the darker, wider one is not only period-accurate for WW2, it’s identical to the ones Bucky was wearing during WW2 in the movie canon already, most visibly in the “let’s hear it for Captain America!” moment. The *other* dog tag Bucky is wearing in TFATWS, though, is of a more modern issue. It is the kind that would be made for soldiers now and over the last couple of decades. So, how does that mean that they’re Bucky’s and not just Steve’s and what does this have to do with Sam? 

Dog tags are only meant to be separated off the chain in the case of death, as everyone probably knows. Soldiers wear two tags with the same information on them into battle so that one remains on them if they die and the other can be pulled off the chain as proof of a fallen soldier during battle, with the army then usually passing the single chain to next of kin. If Bucky were wearing a pair of WW2-era dog tags in TFATWS, I’d say it was more possible that he was wearing Steve’s tags because Steve didn’t actually have them on when he went into the ice so, somewhere, Steve’s pair of WW2-era dog tags exist as a set, still on the chain. They probably wound up in the Smithsonian at some point but back to Bucky-- his, based on the canon we know, would have been separated after the freight car. 

Bucky was wearing his dog tags when he fell off the train car because he was at war. We know that the Russians found Bucky and then handed him back over to Zola. The Russians, to cover this up, would have taken one of Bucky’s dog tags and given it to the U.S. Army, claiming that they had found them washed up on the shore near where he fell or something. What did the U.S. Army do then? They didn’t know what Zola had done to Bucky beforehand that would enable him to survive the fall so they wouldn’t think to question the Russians on this-- they’d just be like hey, thanks for this and we’ll continue to do the same for you. They would have taken the dog tag and marked Bucky off as dead and then done the next thing, which is to give the dog tag to the soldier’s next of kin. 

Bucky died during war time and everyone knew he and Steve had been friends before the war so whatever general got the dog tag probably just gave it to Steve. Steve *could* have given it to Bucky’s sister at some point-- and we know she exists in the MCU because Bucky briefly mentioned her in TFATWS but we don’t know if he’s gone to see her yet-- but we also have no idea what she’s like in the MCU or if Steve might have just decided to keep the dog tag for himself. Given the trauma Steve went through of witnessing Bucky’s death and them not finding Bucky’s body, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that even if Steve was the one who told Rebecca about Bucky’s death and all that, that he kept Bucky’s dog tag. The other one, that was on Bucky at the time when he was given back to Zola, was destroyed by Zola during him being brainwashed into The Winter Soldier. 

So, maybe through seeing Rebecca but probably really through Steve, Bucky gets one of his WW2 era dog tags back. Given that he isn’t seen wearing dog tags again until TFATWS, it’s likely that Steve gave it back to Bucky sometime in the Endgame aftermath before Steve went back in time. Let’s unpack how Steve’s heart was in the right place but that was a bit of a loaded gift here...

Free from being brainwashed-- as free as he’s been *since* WW2 anyway-- Bucky is essentially handed by Steve the symbol of what he just can’t be anymore-- that guy that Steve used to know. He’s still somewhat that guy but he’s been through so much that he’s not going to ever go back. Steve is into going back-- back to the same girl, back to the same era, back to a time when things felt less confusing and safer to him, where things will hurt less. Bucky has always been the absolute opposite of this-- while Steve was always desperate to fit the mode of the model man of the WW2 era, Bucky-- a good-looking, able-bodied soldier who can hot-blooded American male with the best of them-- was never a man of his time, always a bit ahead of it. Steve is Captain America-- Bucky is Captain World of Tomorrow. He’s more realistic about what America is because as a guy putting on a show for the world to pass in the society that Steve worships, Bucky has a very different perspective on all of it than Steve did. (See also, obviously, why Bucky and Sam understand one another and are better for one another than either of them with Steve.) Bucky is touched that Steve had this and is trying to do something nice by giving it back to him but it’s the singular dog tag bearing ‘James Buchanan Barnes’ like it’s literally being his own next of kin at this point as Steve’s about to go back into time-- it’s being handed a reminder of the demise of his sense of self and his *literal almost actual death* right when he’s trying to figure out how he’s going to view himself and what he’s going to do in this world now that he’s going to stay in the present. 

So, he’s not wearing it. He doesn’t really know what to do with it. He’s with Sam at the time (maybe not *with* Sam but I mean they’re sharing a lot of the same space, either at the Avengers compound or Sam’s apartment, in the whole Endgame aftermath time period but pre-TFATWS) and Sam sees it and Bucky tells him he’s putting it away because he can’t wear it. Steve was trying to do a nice thing but Bucky’s like I can’t wear one of these things, my old WW2 one-- it’d be like I was a walking corpse. Sam agrees. So, from here two things could have happened...

One is that Bucky could have made the decision to just get himself a modern secondary tag but keep in mind that Dr. Raynor actually had to clear Bucky for active duty and that wouldn’t have happened right away. More importantly, some military guys basically never take off their dog tags but we have evidence that Bucky used to actually *not* be like this so much. While he had them on during the war, much has been made (and should be made, for sure) about how Bucky’s wardrobe changes after his first encounter with Zola compared to when he first left for war. The Bucky in uniform on the double date with Steve is spiffy and spotless; the Bucky in the bar with Peggy and the Howlies is barely hanging on. The most major difference is how much he pushes his uniform away from his neck and stops wearing a hat-- some have theorized that Zola was trying an early version of the mind crown on Bucky before Steve found him, prompting Bucky to develop a trauma-induced need to have things away from his neck. 

This actually doesn’t change that much after Civil War, when he’s free from his handlers and on the run. By necessity, there’s a baseball cap at times but he wears a lot of henleys and there’s not actually any necklaces or dog tags until TFATWS. So, what changes? The addition of the modern tag and his reclaiming of the idea of being a soldier. So, the two options for how Bucky got the modern dog tag are really either a) he went and had one made for himself or b) Sam gave it to him. Let’s look at why the former would be kind of a healthy choice for Bucky but why it’s probably not likely to be what happened. 

One scene that stands out for me is the single scene in TFATWS where it’s really obvious that Bucky is *not* wearing the dog tags. They show up all over the place-- he has them on for basically the entire series. He’s even *sleeping* in them, waking up with them on during a nightmare where they’re prominent in the scene and then also in its contrasting scene, on the couch in Delacroix. So, the one scene we don’t see Bucky wearing them? His first therapy scene with Raynor. 

It’s made pretty clear that while Bucky got a thing or two out of his time with Raynor, it’s not really because of Raynor herself, who is basically a terrible trauma therapist. It’s also clear that Bucky doesn’t trust her and for good reason. We see that he really shouldn’t-- she’s forcing him into rules he can’t actually live by instead of helping him find ways through those scenarios when they invitably pop up (“don’t hurt anyone” is a recipe for failure) and she’s treating a man violated in every way under the sun in a way that’s invasive. She’s monitoring his phone. She threatens his compliance by *bringing out a book that she’s writing his secrets in* like... this isn’t the healthiest scenario here. What we also see is that Bucky subtly rebels against her. He somehow got himself cleared for active duty by her so he’s been b.s.ing her. He is later seen with a smart phone he knows how to use at Zemo’s (and had to have something on which he was online dating profile perusing) but Raynor thinks he just owns an old flip phone. So, it’s something really interesting that this is the one scene where we can’t see the chain of his dog tags. Why? Why doesn’t he want Raynor to know about them? 

Because he’s hiding what they mean to him. If he wore them in, he’d have to talk to her about them. The dog tags represent his real efforts to reconcile his identity and what he wants that to look like-- he’s vulnerable about them because they represent what little hope he has left. If Bucky had gone out and gotten that modern dog tag for himself and began wearing them, it’d be something healthy to share with Raynor. He’d want to show it off, all eager to show the doc the decision she’d see as healthy and let her analyze it with him. We know that Bucky is struggling to reconcile his identity-- it’s literally his whole story arc in TFATWS-- and yet, he’s wearing dog tags that cut to the chase of it, in a lot of ways. Which is why those dog tags were on in New York all the time except for with Raynor-- why he wore them to bed, even-- and why he leaves them on when he goes to see Sam. 

Sam got Bucky that newer tag. Probably when Raynor cleared him as a congratulations thing or maybe just when he saw Bucky left with a friend who went back in time and left him with nothing but a notebook of things to check out and a corpse necklace and felt for him. In essence, Bucky is wearing around another pair of dual identities in TFATWS-- the Bucky who died in WW2 and the Bucky who is still alive again now in the present-- as given back/given to him and represented by the once and future Captain Americas, who also happen to be the guys he’s loved (in different ways) the most in his life. That he’s wearing them is a sign that he wants to be Sgt. Barnes again-- this newer version of himself. It’s progress from the man who shuddered at stuff around his neck and TFATWS shows us that in other scenes as well, in other ways (his hoodie & jacket combo when they go to talk to Zemo; his signature jacket with a higher collar than we’ve seen him in since he left for war.) The wardrobe choices show an evolution-- a willingness to try to a new place of managing what he’s been through. 

But wearing those dog tags around Sam in TFATWS? (And wearing them when he and Sam weren’t really communicating ahead of it?) Yeah. The parallel to Bucky showing up in Delacroix with a whole new outfit for Sam’s new identity as Captain America is that it was Sam who gave Bucky the modern half of his dog tags (and the chain, which is lighter silver and from the present era) and that’s why Bucky has been wearing them. Steve gave him a reminder of the guy he used to be, even if that guy was still pretty dead but Sam gave him a duplicate-- one that represented the guy who belongs to more modern times and is alive. One tag is death; two is life. 

[aotopmha]

Regardless of what anyone says, I honestly still found Historia's pregnancy plot line pointless to the story and overhyped. It didn't actually add anything truly productive to it. All it did was sideline her for the rest of the series and explain her absence, which was ultimately really just a big waste anyways.

Moreover, Eren's rage over the idea of Historia being turned into a titan was meaningless, since he already knew that titan powers would be gone in the end. He could have made things easier on everyone and just let her become a titan like she originally accepted instead of doing things in such a roundabout way with much collateral damage on his side through Zeke.

And it's evident that she let Eren go through with his plan, whether intended or not, and at that rate, she would have inadvertently done so whether she was pregnant or a titan or not, which I feel is also uncharacteristic of her as someone who was clearly shown to be against genocide just like Armin. Then again, we all know what happened with Armin later on, so yeah...

I definitely would have preferred for her to become a titan, especially since it was lampshaded before and would have been more beneficial to the story anyways, instead of becoming pregnant. And if becoming a titan means she opposes Eren, all the better. Then she would at least stay true to herself, living her life and helping those in need like she wanted.

And if becoming a titan is too much, then she could just be like the other soldiers like Mikasa, Connie, and Jean instead. Either way, she would have been better off on the front lines clearly opposing Eren just like Armin and the others were doing, possibly even becoming Eren's other great light foil and rival along with Armin himself.

--------

I actually think the Rumbling plan with Eren and Zeke can stay (essentially Eren's turn in its entirety can stay). That's the stuff that contains some of the most interesting character material in the story to me. So letting Historia become a Titan by eating Zeke isn't an option I'd actually care much for.

On the other hand, I think everything that was done with Historia in the final arc is probably the biggest black mark on the series.

It avoided what I think is the worst option, which is having her have a kid with Eren, but that's a pretty low bar.

I get the point the story was trying to make – Historia is willing to sacrifice herself, this time in earnest, not as a mask, to save everyone and her confrontation with Eren is about doing the right thing for the greater good, essentially, with her maybe choosing the selfish route of not having to carry on the Titan curse like her family has for thousands of years (which again is still pretty unclear because the plot thread is ultimately so minor and we see so few thoughts from her).

It's the symbolic idea that children no longer have to carry the Titan curse from generation to generation, that's the point of showing her celebrate the birthday of her child in the final chapter – that Eren's horrible actions at least might've had some silver lining.

(This is why I actually like the extra pages – the silver lining was pretty short-term and to me that's important because the consequences of a genocide should be overwhelmingly negative; the only ones to benefit really were just Eren's friends and that didn't last, either. I think the detail that another tree grew out of Eren's buried head/grave is especially important. Mikasa's kindness of even just burying his head might just lead to another long cycle, so the story basically gives consequences to the characters' kindness and says they probably shouldn't have been as nice as they were and just completely burnt him. But it also makes sense for Mikasa to remember Eren for the good he did for her and for who he was rather than who he became.)

But the problem is, as you say, this is such a roundabout way of making this point when you could've done literally anything else that didn't involve a pregnancy that would've been not just more in line with her character, but also much more easily understood and clear-cut writing-wise.

Also, while the option of her becoming pregnant lines up with not wanting to pass down the Titan curse, it's strange otherwise because Historia would never have a child just for the child's existence to be to play a role. (Not to mention, her only love interest in the entire series is a female character.)

This plot thread still has a pretty big element of confusion to me and I'm largely understanding of most of the elements people seem to find confusing about the series.

Even just being killed when she's resisting to play another role or choosing to go on the run would've been so much more consistent with her character and more logical of a way to keep her out of important action – the MPs aren't exactly examples of competency and Eren's movement lead to a lot of chaos so finding her would become even more difficult.

Use a few characters from the orphanage she helped build, even or have a separate faction willing to support her, however minor.

And you can make it really sympathetic on both sides too, considering her resolve in the cave, everyone would understand why she would run away, but you would also understand why the military would push her into this role. It's about the survival of everyone on the island, after all.

Make finding her another subplot after Eren and Zeke start the Rumbling.

Have it so her fate is something Eren has no clue about because his future vision was still incomplete – have it so they never meet because Historia went on the run.

I actually disagree with the claim Eren's outrage was for nothing because recontextualisation says it's just him being protective. Above all, Eren didn't want Historia to become a baby machine. That part is okay in my eyes.

I also obviously don't agree with the implied claim that in the end Armin supported the genocide Eren started.

I think what people don't want to admit is that all Eren ultimately wanted to do is to save everyone.

He was ultimately a well-intentioned extremist and a victim just as much he was a villain, which is why Armin tries to find good in his actions in their final conversation.

And which is why the story lists the few positive consequences there are to his actions.

Eren actually isn't a proxy for your standard dictator, he's if the member of a minority broke under the oppression they face.

And the story doesn't frame his actions as just retribution towards his oppressors, but as the result of people being people.

This is also why I'm not sure I would've liked a complete vilification of Eren.

I think the ending probably still was too nice to Eren, but I feel like it wasn't wrong for showing him be more complex than just crazy murderer.

Thank you for the ask!

[jackson--t]

🎃 Spooktober 🎃

Bloody Boneless - Pt. I

Welcome to my favourite time of the year and my month of spooky stuff! I will create some short spooky stories - if you want to join me, feel free to tag me! 🎃

Summary: Heahmund talks about old sagas and legends in his classes - and tries one game out for himself at home. With a frightening result that makes his blood run cold...

Words: 2.6 k (AO3? Here.)

Spooky Friends (so far): @youbloodymadgenius @jadelynlace (if you want to be tagged, feel free to send me a DM or stuff!) 🖤

Heahmund looked around at his students and grinned a little; his bright eyes wandered over the curious eyes of the teens, who were all talking; some were already coming forward to share their ideas and stories.

It was October, and it wasn't long until Halloween; Heahmund had specifically chosen the last history lessons to get into a little spooky subject matter, about ghosts and folklore, about old tales and myths, and things you'd tell yourself if you wanted to scare someone. Outside, the rain pattered against the window, and the class had been decked out in autumnal red for several weeks, decorated with collected leaves and chestnuts. Heahmund grinned for a moment, then pointed to a student.

"Anna?"

"When I was a child, my mother told me that witches could be found in many bushes and along roadsides. We had a bush in our backyard back then, and it was so opaque that you could only ever make out black structures that looked so spooky..."

"And you must have been afraid of it?" Heahmund said, and Anna nodded.

"Who knows any more sagas? Does anyone maybe know games that involve old Halloween traditions?" Heahmund asked to the group, and several students came forward.

"Tim."

"My big sister once got a Ouija board with her friends on Halloween, and they... tried to call a dead friend through the board. They've never touched it since. She told me things moved around the room and the lights suddenly went out," Tim recounted; several girls in the room looked at each other aghast and began whispering excitedly, while Heahmund pressed his lower back against the desk.

"Stories like that scare you, of course, but it can also be fantasy. There are so many ancient legends and customs that, because of their history, already grasp the origins of fear. For example, the superstition that you should never look in the mirror at the stroke of midnight," he explained, and the teenagers fell silent; they looked at their history teacher intently.

"Why not?" Irina asked, and Heahmund grinned slightly.

"They say it makes you see your inner monster, or your inner witch. There are various games you can try in the dark, but they mostly play with your seventh sense, or simply your perception. The basic idea of fear plays a central role in this. Does anyone know of anything else?"

It took a moment, but then suddenly, quite hesitantly, a finger lifted from the back row; Heahmund's eyes met the shy Natalie, who always spoke very little, even though she had good grades. The others did not like her so much; however, to Heahmund she was a nice girl who was just a little quiet. He nodded to her with a smile; she looked around shyly, then said softly, "You told us once about the Vikings, and about their age. I know a saga about it."

Heahmund raised his eyebrows; he had always loved the subject of Vikings and didn't even know until now that there were customs here, too - or at least ghost stories that the young people told each other. "Really? Ah, very nice! Of course, when someone includes real history, it's always exciting. Tell us more, Nathalie!"

Nathalie hesitated for a moment; her fingers buried in her sweater.

"You told us about Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons back then. And I know a... legend. It says that at the stroke of midnight you are supposed to stand in front of the mirror, and if you... well, if you say Bloody Boneless three times, the Viking tyrant Ivar the Boneless will appear in the mirror."

Heahmund felt a slight chill run down his spine; he had gone over the subject very carefully with the students, and he was fascinated by how much had stuck with her; he looked at her for a moment, then asked, "Have you ever tried it?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, I wouldn't do it either. The stories about him are too scary for me."

"With Bloody Mary, after all, the legend goes much the same way, except she pokes your eyes out. What do you think Ivar the Boneless does, Nathalie?" Heahmund said; the class watched intently as Nathalie bit her lower lip softly.

"They say that he... that he kills you. With an object he finds on you." she whispered; for a moment, icy chills ran through the class, and the abrupt ringing of the bell elicited a cry from some; Heahmund laughed.

"All's well, we'll see each other again on Wednesday. Until then, please read up on the customs about the Salem Witches' Night and do assignment 10 on it."

Heahmund waited until the class was completely empty; he smiled at the students, then scratched his chin lightly. Ghost stories, what nonsense. Of course, he knew none of these things were true; even though he loved seeing the shocked faces of the teenagers.

Bloody Boneless, what a nonsense....

 

§---§---§

 

It was late in the evening when Heahmund stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom; for a moment he looked at his dark hair, and then got his toothbrush ready. The clock on his shelf showed just before midnight; so, he still had some time.

Something on the back of his neck prickled as he brushed his teeth and walked slowly up and down the hallway; the rain was still casting gloomy shadowy shapes on the windows in his house, and the wind was clearly audible. If he wasn't mistaken, he had also heard a thunderstorm coming from a safe distance - a terribly cozy autumn night that he was about to end with a good book in his bed. Yet he still carried his student's words from today in his ear; that strange story about Ivar the Boneless.

Heahmund had devoted much of his studies to the Viking field, and it was still his favorite part of history. Perhaps he could joke with the children and pretend that the story about the mirror was true. He was sure that the teenagers - at least a couple of them - would not be able to sleep for nights if Heahmund continued Nathalie's story. He grunted softly in amusement before standing back in the bathroom and washing out his mouth.

When he lifted his head, the clock read 11:59 p.m., and Heahmund fixed his bright eyes on the mirror; his own reflection was staring back at him, albeit still with a somewhat wet beard. As the digital clock read midnight, Heahmund exhaled deeply. His hands clawed tightly into the porcelain of the basin, and he said softly in his deep voice:

"Bloody Boneless."

Once, and the rain whipped harder against the window; it was nothing unusual, for the storm had been predicted. Heahmund snorted softly; he felt a little crazy and silly, but he took another breath and said:

"Bloody Boneless."

Far away in the dark of the night there was a low rumbling; but the storm was still too far away for Heahmund to hear it clearly. Nothing happened; Heahmund grinned slightly at his own image in the mirror, and then quietly muttered a third:

"Bloody Boneless."

It happened all of a sudden; the lights in the bathroom began to flicker all at once, and with a ripping thunderclap, it abruptly went dark; just once, the light of the bathroom mirror still flickered on, causing Heahmund to let out a scream.

For a millisecond, the gruesomely contorted face of an angry young man had appeared in it, that undoubtedly belonged to Ivar the Boneless. But the lights came back on, and Heahmund stared perplexedly into the mirror; his hands trembled, and he wore white marks on his knuckles, so tightly had he clutched at the basin. When his bright eyes fell on the mirror again, he could see only his own face in it. No trace of that grimace.

Heahmund exhaled deeply and ran his hand over his forehead, shivering slightly; it was just as he himself had said in his lessons: the brain knew it was seeing something, and imagined it. The thunder had been a coincidence, of course, and had contributed to that brief anxiety -but it had been a horrible experience.

"Amazing, a brain like that.", Heahmund muttered to himself, slightly breathless, before turning off the bathroom light and turning towards the hallway. Just for a brief moment, for the fragile blink of an eye, he imagined that he saw a black, crooked shadow in the mirror that clearly could not belong to him. But it could just have been the shower curtain.

Heahmund hurried to get to the bedroom; the mirrors in the hallway suddenly didn't seem so trustworthy, especially since a bright flash additionally illuminated the hallway. Heahmund had never really been the fearful type; never. He didn't believe in ghosts and stories; he believed in the measurable reality of people. But this experience had given even him a deep goose bump on the back of his neck that he couldn't shake off. When he arrived in the bedroom, he closed the door behind him; the hallway was silent, however, as he took one last look inside before turning out the light there as well.

He had another mirror in the bedroom that he had a good view of; normally he loved it, especially for certain evenings; but now a strange feeling came over him. He looked at the mirror slightly critically, and yet decided against taking it down - he wasn't that anxious now. Everything was explainable, really everything. The blackout, the flickering, even his hallucination. There was nothing to worry about or be afraid of.

He turned on the small light on his nightstand and leaned back against the end of the bed; he covered himself lightly and began reading his book. He loved this atmosphere while reading; there was a storm outside, and he was inside with a book in a warm bed, and he didn't even have to get up early tomorrow, since he didn't have class until the last period. He enjoyed such evenings very much; only sometimes he felt lonely.

The house was only blanketed by the sound of rain and thunderstorms; however, as Heahmund was turning a page, his eyes caught something out of the corner of his eye. It was a dark movement, a quick, barely visible movement, but it shot up the back of Heahmund's neck so quickly and tinglingly that he could not have imagined it.

His gaze went up to the mirror; it was still standing there motionless, and nothing but the room was reflected in it; this weather was playing tricks on his eyes, he was sure of it. And those damn children's stories. He shouldn't have done that shit with the mirror.

Heahmund averted his eyes again; he continued to read in silence when suddenly he heard an unfamiliar noise - it sounded like something hitting the ground sharp and hard, like some kind of knife or axe; but it was almost too heavy for that. Heahmund raised his head and stared around the room, but he could see nothing; yet he could have sworn that this strange sound had come directly from his room. He wrinkled his nose slightly; the sound appeared again, only this time it was ten times louder. And it was almost as if a dark shadow was creeping out from under the doorframe....

Heahmund jumped out of bed. Maybe it was a burglar! He went towards the door, saw exactly the strange shadows on the wooden floor, which looked as if someone with crutch was standing in front of the door - his neck tingled wildly, and he suppressed the fantasy in his head - when with a sudden movement he tore open the door.

"Ha!" he cried; but there was no one in the hall. Heahmund stared open-mouthed into the hallway, and then at the floor - the shadow was gone. He took a deep breath in and out, as he closed the door behind him with a soft sound. He needed to calm down, his imagination was starting to run away with him. It was nothing more than a scary fairy tale that teenagers told each other at their Halloween parties.

When he turned around, however, his body suddenly froze.

He couldn't move an inch even if he wanted to; his muscles seemed frozen, frozen like an icy body in deepest winter. His mouth was slightly open, and yet neither words nor air came out to breathe; for his bright eyes fell on the mirror.

There, in jet-black leather armor, leaning on a pointed, metal crutch, stood a young man with the brightest, bluest eyes Heahmund had ever encountered. He simply stood there in the mirror, no one in front of it, staring motionless in Heahmund's direction; his dark hair was braided in Viking splendor, and his face revealed that he had been through a lot; a small but legendary scar adorned the young man's face.

It took a while for Heahmund's body to release its rigidity; he took a deep shocked breath, and stared in disbelief at the image in the mirror. It was as if frozen; the young Viking in it did not move a bit, but only stared stubbornly in Heahmund's direction. It looked like a statue; Heahmund dared to come a little closer and walked with slow steps towards the large mirror.

A flash of lightning lit up the room, and the rumble of thunder gave the whole thing an impossibly creepy atmosphere. Although Heahmund's body was wrapped in icy cold and thick goose bumps, he walked forward until he was standing right in front of the mirror; the young man was a little shorter than him and stood slightly bent over by his crutch. But he did not move, not even when Heahmund touched the cold pane of the mirror with a slight swallow.

"You're not real. This isn't real. I'm dreaming.", Heahmund muttered darkly; the mirror felt normal, and nothing moved except for the flashes in the background.

It had to be a bad joke. Maybe someone had traded his mirror for a TV? Maybe this was a show? Those damn kids...

Heahmund hissed softly as he looked around the room; but he could see no cameras in the corners, and no feet or anything behind the curtains. There was nothing there...

He turned his gaze back to the mirror; still the young man stood there, but his eyes had changed direction. They were staring Heahmund right in the face now, and Heahmund had to swallow hard against his own horrible fear. He took his fingers away from the cool glass, and stared at the Viking as well.

"You are not real, Ivar the Boneless," Heahmund said darkly.

And suddenly, with the bright light of a flash of lightning and the cruel, violent thunder of the thunderstorm close by, he moved; the face moved jerkily, and his jaw cracked slightly before bright white teeth showed, looking almost like sharp knives in the flash of the thunderstorm; the corners of the young man's mouth lifted, and the bright eyes stared at him like the devil's face made flesh.

„dauði, Kristr.“ A high-pitched, strangely soft, yet scratchy voice shattered the silence of the bedroom, mixed with cruel cracking sounds; and Heahmund froze to ice again.

He took a shaking step back, but his eyes caught perfectly how the pointed end of the crutch pressed against the mirror from inside, and a thousand shards suddenly pattered on the floor; and with a firm and sweeping pulling motion, Ivar the Boneless pulled himself out of the mirror, incarnate.

„dauði, Kristr.“ - "Die, Christian." (correct me if it's wrong!)

[retroellie]

If I Ever Were To Lose You

Summary: Y/N helps Ellie through a nightmare

A/N: This sucks ass and I’m sorry but enjoy <3

Warnings: Death, nightmares and talk about NSFW 

Word Count: 3K 

“Y/N?” Ellie called out. 

She frantically ran around the building, opening doors and breaking glass just to find you. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, she’s not sure what happened. All she knew was the knot in her stomach grew and you were gone. 

“Shit! Y/N WHERE ARE YOU?” She basically screamed out. 

Her heart beat grew louder, she swore it could pop right out of her chest. Door after door, she couldn’t find you. The emptiness of the building was terrifying, it felt lonely and especially since she didn’t know where you were. Worry and fear clouded her mind, she couldn’t lose you. 

She was beginning to lose hope, to finally accept defeat until she heard a strange growl coming from the last door down the hall. Her last bit of hope carried her down the hall. 

“Y/N” She shouted. 

She ran down the long hall that only seemed to get longer. Broken glass and unopened broken doors pasted by her, it seemed to go on forever. She came to a screeching stop when she reached the door, busting it open. 

“Y/n?” She asked once more. 

She looked around, her eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness. It was empty, the only sound was the creaking of a broken light, swinging in the light breeze sweeping through the room. She had lost hope, the last person she loved and cared for lost. 

She pressed her back against the wall, trying to catch her breath but the lump in her throat choking her. She let out a few broken sobs, finally giving in. She had no one to be strong for, no one to love and be loved by. She had no one. 

“Ellie?” A voice called out

Ellies had shot up, she  recognized the voice from anywhere, she heard that phrase come out of your mouth many times. Either that was laughing it out or in broken sobs and gasp or even breathy moans. It was music to her ears. 

“Y/n” She gasped. She stood up, bringing you into the biggest hug she’s ever giving you. 

“Ellie..” You laughed. “You’re strangling me.” You joked, attempting to pull her off of you. 

“Sorry.” She chuckled, pulling away from you.”I-i just thought i lost you.” She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. 

She took a good look at you, you looked different. Your eyes were darker than normal and your skin looked almost like rubber, like you weren't real. 

“I’m sorry baby,” You started. “I saw a kitty, I had to go after it.” 

Ellies eyebrows knitted together in confusion, you were never that reckless no matter how much you loved animals. Something was off, you didn’t seem like yourself. 

“Y/n? Is something wrong?” She asked as she started to feel weird 

You just gave her a big smile, it was too big of a smile. Your skin started to droop, like it was falling off. Your smile got bigger and bigger until your skin started to crack, it was like a scene from a horror movie. Ellie backed up, not sure if she should run or not. 

“Everything is fine, my love.” Your voice echoing through the room, turning into almost a growl. 

Ellie slowly stepped back, terrified at the sight in front of her. Your skin began to fall off revealing cyst and bumps, your eyes had turned almost black, your skin turned a sickly grey color and a big bite mark on your neck was now seen. Ellie now realized what was happening, you had gotten bit and you're now tuning. She couldn’t save you. 

Her eyes started to burn and her heart had stopped for a minute, realizing her failure. You were Ellies most prized possession, She believed you were too good for this horrible world. You didn’t deserve to go out like this, bitten by one of those monsters and eventually a bullet between your eyes. 

She could've run but she didn’t want to leave you to die here by yourself, she wanted to die by your side. She knew you had already turned, there was no stopping it so she just watched as your skin cracked open and cyst formed on your soft skin. 

“I’m sorry.” Ellie whispered in defeat. “I couldn’t save you.” 

You didn’t even look like yourself at this point, you weren't yourself. She didn’t know if you were in there anymore or if you were trapped inside this monster's skin. You took a step closer, one foot after the other making your way to her. She just let you, she stood there completely frozen ready for her slow death. 

“You never deserved this Y/n.” She sobbed out, watching your every step. It was torture as you slowly limped to her. “You were always too good for this world, too good for me...”

You were inches away from her, arms reached out to grab her. She moved into your arms, wanting it to go faster. She looked into your cold dead eyes once more before closing hers, preparing herself for the pain. She was ready for it, ready to be consumed by the sweet release of death. 

She felt your hot breath on her neck, your short and panted breaths. You wrapped your hand around her throat before letting out a terrible screech, finally sinking your teeth into her neck. She let out a strangled scream, the pain hitting her hard and fast. 

It hurt so bad, she felt her heart pound in her ears. She grabbed onto your shoulders, the pain making her feel faint. The blood pumping out of the wound, she felt her body rush to the ground, she was moving in and out of consciousness. Her own throat strangling her, stealing her oxygen from her. Her eyes felt heavy and her brain fuzzy. Is this what death felt like, like your oxygen being stolen away from you. She let out a single breath and her heart stopped pumping. She laid there cold, dead and alone, just how she knew she would. 

-

-

Ellie's eyes shot open, her heart feeling like it was going to jump right out of her chest. She shot up, not being able to breath. She put a hand on her chest, feeling like she was having a heart attack, she gasped for air. She didn’t know where she was or if she was dead, nothing made sense to her. Until she felt a hand on her shoulder, She reached into her pocket grabbing her knife. She flung her body around holding the knife to the person. 

“ellie, hey! it’s okay.” The person whispered yelled. 

She saw who it was, it was you. Her body eased up when she saw it was you, her breath finally coming back to her. She dropped her knife and let out a big breath, a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in. 

“I’m sorry.” She choked out. 

You crawled over beside her, laying your head on her shoulder and rubbing soft circles on her back. That calmed her down a lot, her breathes were still coming out in short gasps. 

“It’s okay baby, you’re doing great.” You whispered encouraging words into her ear. “Just keep breathing for me, okay?” 

She did what you said, no longer having to fight for air. She didn’t know she was crying until she felt the wetness on her cheeks. She wiped the tears off her face, letting her body relax. 

“You’re okay baby.” You whispered once more. “You're safe, nothings gonna hurt you.” 

She turned her head to look at you, you looked sleepy. She must have woken you up. Your hair was messy, the illumination of the fire brought out your slight eye bags. She thought your were the most beautiful woman she has ever seen, she was so in love with you she couldn’t even hide it sometimes. 

“I’m sorry I woke you.” She whispered. You just smiled, giving her a small kiss on the tip of the nose. 

“It’s fine, I was already awake because of Tommy's snores.” You giggled. 

Ellie looked over to see two shapeless blobs right next to them, That’s when everything came back to her. You guys had been on your rounds with Tommy and Joel  before it got too bad outside, the snow was physically hurting when they decided to just camp out at one of the lookouts. It was a nice cabin, it had a great view and a huge fireplace. 

“He does snore pretty loud.” Ellie jokes, putting a hand on your thigh. 

“Right! I've had to kick him so many times.” You grinned. 

Ellie chuckled, looking back over at you. You were staring back at her, with a soft expression on. Not even 5 minutes ago Ellie saw your skin fall off and you turn, now she was here with you. She was able to touch and hold you without you biting her face off. She held a hand up to caress your face, eventually pulling you into a kiss. 

You kissed back, it started off innocent. Her hands softly caressing your skin, yours running  through her hair comfortably. Then it became more passionate, like it was the last time you would be in the same room with each other. Ellies hand wandered under your shirt, her cold hands making you perk up. You gasped into the kiss, giggling because her hands were so cold. 

“Your hands are so cold.” You whispered, pulling away from her. Ellie just grinned, keeping her hands up your shirt.

“Your boobs are so warm though.” She joked, placing her cold hands on your bare boobs. 

The coldness of her hands made your yelp too loudly for your liking. She quickly removed a hand and covered your mouth. You both looked over at the sleeping men, they were both still passed out. She looked back over at you and laughed. 

“You're an asshole.” you said, pulling her hand away from your mouth. 

You shifted to lay down, your hair sprawled out on the pillow perfectly. You looked like an angel, the fire highlighting your face. If Tommy and Joel weren’t in the room Ellie would’ve pinned you down, pleasuring you until you couldn’t see straight but she had to behave. 

“You love me.” She replied, moving a hand to your bare thigh. 

“Yeah, right” You rolled your eyes. “Now come here, i’m cold.” 

You held your arms up hinting at her to lay with you. She chuckled, shifting to lay in between your legs, laying her head on your chest. She watched the fire dance, causing soft shadows on the walls. She finally had time to rerun her dream, what happened and how it felt like the ground below her got yanked out below her. 

“Y/n?” Ellie spoke softly. 

“Hmm.” You replied back. 

She felt your hand run through her hair, something that always put Ellie to sleep almost instantly. This time she doesn’t even know if she wanted to go back to sleep. 

“Please don’t leave me.” She sighed out. 

She felt your arms tighten around her, your heart and the heat of your embrace lulling her to sleep. 

“Ellie, baby.” You spoke, your voice making her move her head to look at you. “I’m not going to leave you, i don’t know what you dreamed of but i’m not going anywhere.” 

Ellie saw your eyes gloss over, either that was you about to cry or the lack of sleep you had gotten but the pure emotion in your voice and in your eyes made her believe you. 

“I just..” she started, hesitant of what to say. “i just don’t want you to get hurt or turn, if you were immune it wo...” 

“Ellie stop.” Your voice was stern but not stern enough to scare or embarrass her. “ I’m not planning on getting bit any time soon and even if i do it’s not your fault.” 

You pushed her hair out of her face, her puffy eyes watering once again. You knew about her immunity and how she went to the fireflies, you don’t know what went down there but you knew if there was a cure it wouldn’t have done much, people were still dicks in the old world and you knew they weren’t going to change all of a sudden. 

“This entire situation is not your fault, I know you want things to be different but they're not.” Your voice was still silky smooth to Ellie, no matter how stern you were trying to be. “I don't care about that right now though Ellie, you're here with me. You are all I need.” 

She nodded and turned her head back to the fire, she wanted to believe you but she couldn’t. She blames herself for a lot, but this was the one that made her break down every time. You felt the hurt she felt, you would give anything just to make her realize there was nothing she could do. 

“Plus people are assholes, i don’t think they deserve part of you inside them.” You attempted to lighten the mood and it worked. 

Ellie let out a stifled laugh, shaking her head. You chuckled along with her, closing your eyes. To say you were exhausted was an understatement. 

“I love you weirdo.” Ellie whispered, her eyes falling closed as well. 

“I love you too, asshole.” you replied. 

Ellie snuggled closer to you, hearing your soft heart beat drum in your chest. Your hand is still running through her hair, allowing her to feel safe and relax while she fell asleep. 

-

-

“Come on, wake up love birds.” A voice spoke, waking Ellie up from her slumber. She groaned as her eyes fluttered open, the sun peaking through the windows. 

“Come on, we gotta get back to Jackson.” The voice said again. 

Ellie looked over to see Tommy packing up his backpack. Joel was by the kitchen table, strumming his guitar strings. Ellie groaned once more, looking down at the still sleeping girl below her. 

“What time is it?” She asked, slowly getting up. 

“I don't know, 11 maybe 12.'' Tommy spoke. 

“Damn, we slept in.” Ellie gave a good stretch and stood up, causing you to turn over on your side

“You're gonna wake up sleeping beauty over there.” Tommy nodded over to you. 

Ellie looked over at you, you were still passed out. Your hair was covering your face and your hands were placed by your head. She grinned down at you and shook her head. 

“I’ll let her sleep for a little longer, she had a long night.” She replied, walking over to the table she laid her stuff on. 

She started packing her stuff up along with yours, she knew you would be too tired to do it. You didn’t sleep in often so she thought you could use the extra sleep. 

“Was that y’all talking last night?” Joel asked, putting down his guitar and putting his backpack on. 

“Yeah, sorry we didn’t mean to disturb you or anything.” She said, zipping her backpack up and moving on to yours 

“No it’s fine, I was dead to the world anyways. Just wondering.” Joel said.

Ellie nodded and went on with packing your bag up, she even folded your stuff up nicely. The two boys got ready for the small and cold trip, putting on layers and layers of clothes. You were still passed out, Ellie was dreading having to wake you up. You were so calm and peaceful when you slept. 

“Alright, you should wake her up. I’ll bring in the horses.” Tommy stated, throwing his backpack on. “Maria’s probably got the whole town looking for us.” He joked. 

He walked out the door, Joel following him but stopping in the doorway, turning to ellie. 

“I’m glad you're talking to someone.” Joel spoke, causing Ellie to look over at him. “You know, you're not holding stuff in. I'm glad, she’s a real nice girl” He finished. Ellie nodded, leaning on the table. She looked down at your jacket and smiled. 

“Yeah, she’s good.” She smiled, there was an awkward silence between them for a minute. 

She was glad Joel approved of you. She knew you and Joel got along well, you liked Joel real well but Ellie wasn’t sure if Joel was okay with you two being together, he was from the old world. It was different back then but that statement just confirmed he was okay with it. 

 “Well, I gotta go wake up the princess.” She chuckled. 

“Yeah, i’ll go help him with the horse.” Joel said. 

Ellie nodded as she watched him leave the house, looking down at your jacket again. She sighed knowing it was going to suck having to wake you up. She grabbed your jacket, making her way to where you were. Your chest rose and fell calmingly, it almost made ellie wanna crawl back into bed with you. 

She kneeled down and moved the hair from your face, bending down to pepper your face with soft kisses. You squirmed a bit, your eyes fluttering opened and seeing her. 

“Come on, we gotta get going.” Ellie spoke, giving her a peck on the lips. You stretched your body a bit before sighing. 

“Can’t yall just leave me here, i’ll walk back.” you joked. 

“Come on weirdo, you can attempt to sleep on the horse.” Ellie replied back. 

You rolled your eyes before sitting up, Ellie handed you your jacket. You slipped it on and stood up. Ellie went to go get your backpack but you pulled her into a hug. She didn’t refuse your hug, she melted into it. You stood on your tippy toes and kissed her, Ellie kissed back. The kiss was long and innocent before you pulled away. 

“Good morning to you too.” Ellie grinned. 

You laughed, pulling her into another kiss. This one was more passionate, it was the kind of kiss that left you breathless. 

“Okay come on you two, enough face eating. we’re ready” Tommy interrupted. 

You both laughed and Ellie pecked your lips one last time, loosening her hold on you. 

“To be continued.” She whispered. 

-

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!Credits to gif owner!