#he loves shooting his big fuck you gun. which he KNOWS tears through bodies like tissue paper

[gophergal]

Insane Engie? WHAT ABOUT INSANE HEAVY WITH F9 FACE & B8 COLOUR? Justice for our 'most sane' mercs, Misha is just as blood thirsty as his beau

anyone who says this man is The Sane One needs to rewatch meet the heavy and listen to his voice lines. also poker night.

[EXPRESSION MEME]

[imyourbratzdoll]

Can you do one we’re Lloyd is getting married to y/n but her ex crashes the venue?

hello, sorry this took so long! I hope you liked what I came up with.

prequel

summary - an unwanted ex crashes your wedding and exposes your kinky ways to your soon-to-be husband, do you think the wedding was called off?

warning - angst, fluff, talk of being fucked by something, sexual talk, gun talk, special guest.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

His eyes were so warm and intense on you that you were sure he could read all your thoughts, everything you felt about him, written in your pupils. Lloyd smiled, opening his mouth as he began his vows.

“I’m so happy I met you, Pumpkin. I remember when I first saw you. You were walking through a field of flowers, wearing a pretty white dress and a daisy in your hair. At that moment, I knew I had to get to know you, and I couldn’t let someone so beautiful slip through my fingers.” He smiles, eyes staring intensely into yours, which happened to be filled with happy tears. Lloyd clears his throat, making sure his voice doesn’t crack as he continues. “I want to cook you dinner, even though I can’t. I want to tuck you into bed and make sure you sleep okay every night, all the time. I want to play with your hair until you fall asleep. I want to cuddle you for hours or get lost travelling with you. I want to be at dinner with you, somewhere different and move my hand up your legs.” As he says this, Lloyd wiggles his brows. “I want to fuck you till you can’t move. I want to punish you just because I fucking can, and I promise, Pumpkin, that I will love you for eternity, and if I somehow upset you and break my vows, you can shoot me wherever you want.” 

A soft smile appears on your face, but as you open your mouth, about to respond, you are interrupted by someone slowly clapping. You and Lloyd turn your head, and your eyes widen as your ex-boyfriend Ransom freaking Drysdale stands there. 

Ransom grins, “I gotta say, those were some awesome fucking vows.” He strolls forward, winking as he takes a swig from the whiskey bottle in his hand. Your hand quickly reaches out to stop Lloyd from grabbing the gun in his waistband. “Aww, is the big guy getting mad? Scared she’s going to come running back to me? I mean, I wouldn’t blame her. All those nights together, mmm.” He exaggerates a moan, eyes rolling back as he tries to get under Lloyd’s skin.

“What do you want, Ransom?” You huff, arms folding in front of your chest as the happiness you were feeling slowly gets sucked out of you. “How the hell did you even know I was here?” The feeling of Lloyd’s arm wrapping around you spreads secureness throughout your body.

Ransom smiles, “Your little bridesmaid there, get her going enough, and she’ll happily spill your whereabouts.” His eyes stare you down, looking for a flare of jealousy to spark in your eyes, but all he’s met with is disgust. His eyes move over to the red-faced bridesmaid, giving her a smirk. “C’mon, why don’t you tell the bride all of the things you let me do to you that made you spill.”

“Ransom. That’s enough. What do you want?” The rage building inside of you was becoming too much. Your fingers twitch as you itch to reach behind and grab Lloyd’s gun. Not even his hold is comforting you, and that’s the scary part. You swear you can feel him press a soft kiss against your head, whispering sweet words, but you can’t be sure as redness tries to take over.

“Well, Kitten. I want you back.” He rolls his eyes, drinking from the bottle. A giant grin appears on his face when Lloyd grunts and his sharp blue eyes make their way over to Lloyd’s. “Hey, buddy! I got a question for ya!” Ransom strides closer, tapping Lloyd’s cheek as he speaks but huffs when his hand is swiped away. “Jeez, calm down.” Ransom pouts, not expecting you people to be so rude. 

“Are you guys as kinky in bed as we once were?” The smirk on his face says it all, and your eyes widen knowing where he’s going with this. “You all wanna hear what I fucked her with?” He spins, speaking to everyone in the room. Some eyes and mouths were wide open, and some gasped. They’d probably gasp more if he said what he fucked you with. Ransom turns, staring you deep into your eyes. “Should I tell them, Kitten? You think he’d still want you after knowing how much of a whore you really are?”

You shake your head, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes as you think back to the night he was talking about. You and Lloyd aren’t vanilla at all but for him to hear this on your wedding day from your ex wasn’t something you wanted to happen. Ransom nods, taking your silence and turns to look Lloyd in the eyes with a dark smirk.

“You ever fuck her with a lollipop?” Lloyd’s brows shoot up, his head moving to look at you, wondering why he hasn’t even thought of that yet. “Ah! You haven’t?” Ransom chuckles, forcing his whiskey into a random person’s arms before he excitedly claps. “Fuck! I did that. I fucked her with a lollipop. She liked it, though. She liked it a lot!” His eyes never leave Lloyd’s as he says this. Ransom licks his lips as he thinks of how hot you looked, sprawled out, little whines escaping you as he thrusts the small lolly into your dripping hole. 

Ransom looks at you, his eyes piercing through you. “I can’t stop thinking of you and that lollipop.” He groans, head thrown back as he continues. “Jesus, do you know how fucking sexy you looked, letting me fuck you with it. Remember when you had a taste?” Ransom licks his lips, raising a brow as your eyes dart down. “Of course you do, Kitten. You were begging for that taste, the best fucking taste out there. A bit of cherry mixed with you. Fuck! I’m getting so fucking hard thinking about it.” His hand reaches down and grabs his junk, “Why stay with a boring man like Lloyd Hansen when you can have me back, Kitten? Don’t you miss me?” 

“No, Ransom. I don’t miss you, and there’s a reason I’m marrying Lloyd instead of you.” Your glare is set on the man. His brow raises as he waits for you to come up with an excuse. “No woman wants a man who has his eyes on every woman.” 

Lloyd looks down at you. Leaning forward, he places a soft kiss against your head before turning and grabbing Ransom by his throat. The sound of choking can be heard as Lloyd walks Ransom out of the area and throws him to the side. He leans down. “You ever come near us again, and I’ll put a bullet in your head.” As he stands, he kicks Ransom in the side before walking back to where you stand, and Lloyd can see how worried you are that he wouldn’t come back.

“You ready to become Mrs Hansen, Pumpkin?” Lloyd smiles when a bright smile appears on your face. He walks over to you and brings you into his arms. “You’re lucky. I love you.” He warns. “Because I wouldn’t stand for it otherwise.”

You grin, resting your chin on his chest as you look up at him. “You’re lucky. I love you. Because you’re a total asshole, and there aren’t a lot of girls who’d put up with it.” Lloyd looks down at you, shocked, but it’s soon replaced with a loving smile.

The priest clears his voice. “After that… Lovely interruption. Would you two like to continue?” The two of you look at one another. Hands interlocked as you nod. 

The wedding may not have been one of a fairytale, but Lloyd did get to test out that lollipop.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[4dtk]

hallu!! i saw the fic that u wrote bout haechan organisation & was wondering if u could do something similar for jaehyun where y/n and maybe jaehyun is in a midst of a mission and y/n protects jaehyun from being injured and ended up being injured instead, thank youu and i really love your works 🥺

thank u for liking my writing <33 big, large angst, jhaahshhher.

general warnings for violence, mentions of guns and weapons, criminal activity

“don’t you fucking dare!” jaehyun always hated how observant you were. how you’d notice that he was more closed off than ever, you would offer to make a cup of hot chocolate to coax him into saying what was on his mind. it turned out that weapon shipments were being delayed due to a raid, and you brushed it off with a joke. “what, your shotgun can’t work any more?”

he hated how fearless you were. despite being such an obedient child, you went with him — the criminal, the outcast of society — and devoted your life to him. you weren’t on the run as much as him because no one died by your hands, no one reported you of your misdeeds, but you were there on missions, on business dealing. not physically, but in the locket that jaehyun carries around his neck which he worries that his subordinates will see.

shame that you got caught in the crossfire this time.

jaehyun feels his heart drop right down to his feet once he hears you shout those four words, because it only boasts of your vigilance and boldness in an instance where he was supposed to be possess those traits. he was the fucking leader of a criminal organisation, for crying out loud, a gang if one wants to go by a child’s words. it shows in the way this group attacks them: lazy, disorganised, like picking fighting in an abandoned construction site.

but they don’t care as they get the job done, shooting down the officers in charge of protecting jaehyun. left, right, centre in the room furnished with the most expensive of furnishing, all shot up due to the brutal nature of jaehyun’s life.

you spot the shooter before jaehyun does, who’s loading up his gun to do his own fair share of damage. you hear the words of their leader before jaehyun does, “he’s open, c’mon, take him down you idiot!” you understand their reason before jaehyun does, and while your lover racks his brain for any sort of debt he’s owed, you’re already in front of him.

“don’t you fucking dare!” he turns pale when he hears the shot, he feels like vomiting when your body loses its strength, he can hardly see through the tears when he feels your pulse lose its strength.

“no- fuck, (y/n)— baby, no no no!” jaehyun stumbles over his words like the first date. the date you remember like yesterday because of how nervous he was. with the stupidly huge trench coat he likes to use, he’s never looked so small in that instant when he asked you what flavour of ice cream you liked. even now, he looked so pretty while you float between consciousness and unconsciousness and through the space between reality and reverie, you could hardly tell.

the pain growing in your abdomen felt like reality and the person crouching, holding your weight was reverie. the loud, ringing in your ears was reality, and the voice, however frantic it was, was reverie.

“(y/n). (y/n)! why- why did you do that?” jaehyun asks in disbelief, barely looking like the leader of a criminal organisation now that you laugh softly, along with the many memories that swim in your mind. “w-why?” his voice breaks before your heart, but it soon follows anyway, because it sinks in that jaehyun might have to live without you.

“we’ll- just, y’know, we’ll bring you to one of our private hospitals and we’ll fix you right up, okay?” the both of you know it’s not true, but there’s a speckle of hope in jaehyun’s voice, sounding like a kid on christmas day, a holiday that you were supposed to celebrate with him just a few days later.

“christmas… i-it’s in three days…” you weakly speak out, head spinning at the blinding lights above. “your- your present. i haven’t gotten it.”

jaehyun chokes on his sobs at your confession. “it’s okay, princess. it’s okay. c’mon, stop talking now, take deep breaths.”

you’re close to going limp, feeling every muscle in your body fail as you try to cup his cheek with your hand. “jae?”

he whimpers, placing his hand over yours.

“merry christmas, baby. i love you, so much.” the scream that was ripped from jaehyun’s throat was awfully deafening, cradling your now cold body in his arms and the remnants of his empty heart, which shattered pieces would be impossible to find.

[indianamoonshine]

Girl Talk | Din Djarin x Reader | Oneshot

Summary: What does a gal do when she’s just been railed by the most notorious bounty hunter in The Galaxy? Call her best friend of course.

A/N: Just something to tide you over until the next installment of Strawberry! I have anxiety and I need to busy my hands without thinking too much! This takes place after season 2!

There’s a crackling on the other end of the receiver. The telegraph service majorly bites out here on Besiana, which has been dubbed “the trench of The Galaxy”. Getting connected to Gabriele at all is a miracle in itself, though not without exploiting a few (somewhat) illegal hacks by yours truly.

Hells, not even this shitty phoning service can put you in a sour mood.

When Gabriele’s voice sounds at the other end, it gives the air that he’s just awoken from a heavy sleep or he’s suffering a hangover. Probably both. “Now what the hell are you doing all the way out in butt-fucking-nowh…” he starts.

You’re quick to cut him off. “Take a guess.”

Gabriele groans and there’s a rummaging in the background. Something sounds as though it falls off a surface - his alarm clock, probably. He must be in the inner rim somewhere.

“Miss girl, I don’t have time to play these games with you. My head is pounding. Now tell me why you’re in the catacombs of The Galaxy’s ass and…”

Behind you, a body shuffles from outside the refresher door. Your heart thuds rambunctiously in your chest as you carefully peer through a crack of the opening. Din Djarin - The Galaxy’s most notorious Mandalorian- is taking a seat with his rifle in hand. You watch as he begins to disassemble it with great technical precision. Something about watching him take apart his weapon causes your stomach to flutter.

And your knees to weaken.

“I just had sex,” you tell him in a whisper.

Gabriele is silent on the other end for a moment and then lets out a sigh of great disappointment. “Congratulations. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

“The best sex of my life.”

There’s another pause. “Oh?” His interest has piqued, voice more alert at the prospect of juicy gossip. After all, what were best friends for?

You let this linger in the air for a minute, just to marinate his curiosity, and then peek at Din again. He’s taking a rag and wiping the barrel of the rifle; if it weren’t for the helmet upon his head, you’d swear he was concentrating with furrowed and ascetic brow.

“Do you remember that Mandalorian who made a giant fuss a couple of years ago?” you inquire lowly, eyes unable to leave the steadiness of Din’s deft hands.

Those hands. You have to stop yourself from moaning at the recent memories. You swear you can still feel the ghostly sear they left in their wake. The naked skin upon your hips tingles at the sheer recollection, the slick still upon your thighs all-too prevalent.

“You’re lying,” is what Gabriele gasps, absolutely scandalized. You imagine him shooting up in bed and covering his mouth in awe. He was always so dramatic but you couldn’t blame him if he did. This was the exact reaction you were hoping for.

Din grabs another piece of his rifle and starts up again. You have to tear yourself away from looking at him and instead surmise yourself in the mirror. It isn’t very big in any sense of the word but it’ll do. You take a look at your face (blushed and bright) and then your eyes (dazed and dick-drunk). Hells, this man has ruined you.

“I know you have questions,” you reply, tapping at your cheeks. They feel softer somehow.

Gabriele squeaks a bit under his breath. “Did he take off his helmet?”

You shake your head, though he can’t see it. “No. And I think it awoken something in me.”

He tsks. “Damn. I wanna know what he looks like. Okay…”

“I know he’s a brunette,” you say slyly.

Gabriele shrieks at the other end and you have to angle the receiver away with a laugh. “Is it big?”

You recall the tactical consideration- albeit brief - it took to get his dick in your mouth. You did it though, ‘ole girl. You tap yourself on the shoulder with a proud grin.

“Oh, it is. It’s…it’s very nice.”

You find yourself looking out the door again. Din’s moved onto another gun - he’s already put together the last. You grow weary at the sight of his gloved hands alone, but when your eyes trail downwards you find yourself swallowing something thick in your throat. Which in turn, of course, reminds you of the tanginess still lingering upon your tongue.

“Gabriele,” you say seriously, voice so low you can barely hear yourself. “I came eight times.”

“Shut up. You did not.” Gabriele sounds more than just excited - now he sounds jealous. You can’t help but giggle.

You raise a hand to your chest in a show of honesty. “I mean it. Eight times. He went down on me for an hour.”

“I thought you said he didn’t take off his helmet?” Gabriele asks suspiciously.

You chuckle lowly. “Oh, that’s where it gets really good.”

Gabriele - one of the biggest sluts in The goddamned Galaxy - was no stranger to sex. So when you tell him that you were blindfolded during this portion of an absolute wild ride, you’re shocked to find him screeching once more.

You’re about to continue - to confide in him about the brutal rhythm of the ordeal - until a knock startles you. You press the receiver against your chest, still flushed and naked from the previous romp.

Din calls your name from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

You freeze, contemplating on everything you could say to this most bland of questions. “I’ll be out in a moment!” you decide, scolding yourself for being so timid. You were at the end of his dick a half-hour ago.

Din mumbles something and then departs. After he’s within a safe distance, you quickly raise the receiver and say, “I have to go. But I’ll tell you everything later.”

Gabriele gawks, “Was that him?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes. Now I really have to go.”

“Oh my gods, okay. Fine.”

You smile, clutching at the durasteel of the phone. “Promise. Love you.”

Your best friend sighs theatrically. “Love you too. Be safe, okay? I don’t even know who I’d call to go after him if something happened to you. No one would be stupid enough.”

The idea of Din doing anything to put you in harm’s way is inconceivable. You’ve only known him for a short amount of time - a couple of weeks at most - but you already trust him with your life.

“I’d die a happy woman,” you joke.

A short while later, you exit the refresher with sopping, clean hair and any traces of sex scrubbed away from between your legs. Din’s allowed you to wear one of his night shirts (an honor in itself) because your clothes had been soiled.

Din is placing his rifle upon its rack when you sneak by for the kitchen. You pour yourself a cup of Java - black, unfortunately, because of Din’s lack of sweet tooth. The liquid is steaming hot so you blow on it before bringing it to your lips.

“Do you want one?” you ask him, taking a sip. It burns. “Oof.”

Din turns, armor somehow so dexterous in its bulk. “No, thank you. But…”

In a surprising move, Din reaches for your hips and pulls you flush against him, ignoring the mug altogether. You shriek, worried it might spill, and set it upon the countertop, but he pays little to no mind.

“You took awhile,” he mumbles, hands grasping at the flesh of your hips. They’ve already been treated so roughly today, and now you were sure there’d be bruising. Good.

You chew at your bottom lip, desperate to know what his eyes might look like. You imagine he has dark eyes - like the color of the sky at nightfall. Maybe they became brighter in the light of the suns. Maybe they crinkled when he laughed - if he were capable of that, anyway. You’ve yet to hear such music.

“I didn’t realize you were waiting for me,” you confess, avoiding the steel gaze of his faceplate.

Din hums under his breath and taps your chin, lifting it just barely so that you can meet his stare. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, fluttering your lashes in a vain attempt to remain mysterious.

Din reaches for something behind you and reveals a scrap of fabric. “How about we try for nine?” The modulator of his helmet crackles a bit, causing his voice to sound more severe than what he may have liked.

But it does something to you.

You nod sweetly, a tiny grin threatening to sneak its way upon your face, before he takes you within his arms and lifts you upon the counter.

A shrieking, but playful, giggle bursts from your lips. “Din!” you chide, but tie the fabric around your eyes all the same.

The hiss of his helmet sounds, notifying you that he’s revealing himself to the elements now. You can hear his natural breath and feel the way it fans against your collarbones before he kisses you fiercely.

“Let me give you something to really talk about.”

[bakugosbratx]

Baby Eyes | Mafia Katsuki Bakugo x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Some non-con, blood, murder, Mafia Bakugo, Fem! Reader, bdsm, sexual intercourse, size kink, degrading, orgasm denial, Stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, etc.

Words: 2,896

A/N: thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate. It is really fun doing this collaboration with you. Daisy’s Event

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @milkthistletea @idfkwtfgof click here to see my other works

Vegas.

Many dream of this city. The gambling, the drinks, the money, the night life. It has it all. Your dreams and worse nightmares can be made here all within a single night. The world may be cruel, but Vegas is even crueler. At least, it is for Y/N.

Your pistol was held tight in your trembling little hand. You have not been properly trained for this moment since in your late teens. The weapon felt foreign to the touch. You are now in your twenties and you are usually not doing this line of work, but since you wanted to disturb your significant other while he was working, he handed you the gun for you to handle.

“Since you want to be such a fucking cry baby, here.” He growled, shoving the pistol into your pounding chest. You gasped.

“S-Sir, I—“ You stammered, using the name he loved to be called by you. You would help it lessen your punishment, but the man did not budge.

“Don’t keep me waiting, brat. Finish this piece of shit off swiftly and quit your damn crying.”

You watched as he left into the city lights of Vegas before turning your attention back to the male before you. The man begged for mercy beneath you and your mouth feels dry.

“P-Please, ma’am. I-I have a w-wife and t-three beautiful c-children. I’ll g-give you your m-money next week. I-I promise.” The fearful man stammered amongst the abandoned dark alleyway. You have heard this speech by many like him when Katsuki brought you on his missions. It should just fall on deaf ears, but tears still brimmed your eyes as memories flooded back to the forefront of your damaged mind.

These memories are the reason you are in this predicament. You begged and squealed, running towards Katsuki and hanging onto his arm when he directed you to stay in the car. You two could have been gone by now, but you decided to intervene. Now you are here, about to commit another murder.

Your father was in this same position a few years ago. Begging for mercy before Katsuki slaughtered him right in front of you. Your cries still echo this alleyway during late, breezy nights. People think you have been disposed of as well. That is what eventually happened to the remainder of your family, but you are just under a new identity.

The barrel of the gun digs deeper into the victim’s temple. You attempt to find your strength to pull the trigger. You need to before Katsuki returns. He does not like waiting and you really are pushing what is left of his buttons today.

“I’m sorry.” You whimper out, closing your sorrow filled eyes and pressing down on the trigger. The feeling of blood splattering amongst your cold skin brought back even more unwanted memories. Falling to your knees, you began to cry hysterically in front of the fallen corpse.

Heavy footsteps came up behind you after a few moments. Katsuki has been watching the whole time and you know it. This is what made the experience even worse. You know his judgment is coming. He gave you a task and although you succeeded, it isn’t good enough. He hates your emotional ways. ‘Baby eyes’ as he would say. Always crying over something or someone.

A big calloused hand entangling into your hair with a deep sigh following. You could not look up at him. You hate him right now. You need to, at least, but the feeling of his large fingers stroking your scalp delivered comfort. A comfort he gives and takes away on a whim.

“Took you long enough.” Katsuki grumbled. You gaze up at him with a pitiful look he knows all too well. There was a certain aura to you that changed when your mind drifted to that night. The night he murdered your family right in front of you and all you could do is watch in terror.

“I-I’m sorry.” You muttered out, already accepting that Katsuki is annoyed with you. This is not your first murder and sure will not be your last. He has groomed you long enough for you to know your role.

Katsuki kicked the man’s head with his large foot so he could see the man’s pleading face. Katsuki is cruel in that way. He loved seeing his victim’s expressions in their final moments. Especially when his beautiful woman killed them.

Digging into the man’s pockets, he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and black leather wallet to review what was contained inside it. The little cash the man held is now in Katsuki’s possession.

“Marlboro Reds,” Katsuki commented as he slipped the cigarette in between his moist lips and lit it up, “nice.”

Turning around to face you after letting the nicotine enter his system, he looks down at you. Grabbing your chin, you are forced to meet his gaze. You tremble under his touch.

“What did I say about that crying shit?” Katsuki recalls one of your many lectures.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, a little too loud for your own good. Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed together, not pleased with your tone. His hand found a way to your neck, giving you a nice squeeze as he guides you up to your feet.

“Let’s go.” Katsuki growls, his red orbs shooting venom into you. Your arm is now tight into his grip as he leads you to the parked all black Lamborghini.

You climb into the passenger seat while Katsuki climbs into the driver’s. You used the napkins in the glove compartment to clean up your soiled face. Katsuki is already on his second cigarette as he drives to the mansion you both share. Considering how fed up he is with you and your antics, you are surprised that half of the box is not gone by now. You know you are in for it once you arrive home.

Katsuki pulled up to the house after some time. Your tears did not pause once the whole way there which only agitated Katsuki even more. He did not say a word as you know to follow the tall man inside. Straight up the spiral marble staircase to the master bedroom, you begin undressing as Katsuki does not appreciate the mess in his living space. Along with the fact you are always to be naked within the bedroom. That rule was set once you turned eighteen years of age.

You sat on the edge of the bed, not enjoying the look in Katsuki’s angry eyes. His muscular arms folded against his chest as he leaned against the wall, glaring into you. You feel small — as usual — within his presence. He is making sure you remember your place.

“What the hell were you thinking out there, Y/N?” Katsuki begins after moments have passed.

“I-I don’t know.” You mumbled, twiddling your thumbs in your bare lap. Your insides are curling with each passing second. You are not sure why you did what you did, honestly. You have seen numerous people plead for forgiveness at Katsuki’s feet, but Katsuki is always going to be a merciless man. Your body acted before your brain could compute. You just wanted to save him. Salvage your loved ones death in some way, shape, or form, but it can never be done.

“You have to give me a better excuse than that. This little rebellion you're on lately isn’t doing nothing but getting you into heaps of trouble.”

“It’s not a rebellion!” You snap back, tears still spilling from your orbs. “You killed my family, Katsuki!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, used to this statement coming from you. “Here we go again.” He scoffs with a tsk following shortly after. “We’ve been over this, Y/N. Your father sold you and your family out for cash. If anything, you should be fucking grateful I even let you live.”

“Grateful?” You repeat in disbelief, a half hearted chuckle escaping your lips. Maybe it was because Katsuki let you take another life, maybe your parents' spirits are coming through, or maybe you’re just so fed up with him, but a sudden burst of confidence runs through you.

You stand up, strolling over to the man before you. His jaw is clenching as he examines each cowardly step you take towards him. You glare up to the man before you, quivering before his mighty presence.

“You killed my family, Katsuki,” you repeat through gritted teeth and clenched fists, “I’ll never forgive you for that.”

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki challenged, his profound amused smirk appearing. The look in your glossy irises said all the words you didn’t have the courage to speak. “Good thing I really don’t give a fuck about your forgiveness, princess.”

Katsuki’s words soaked into your veins like venom. His smug looks always made you want to beat it off of him. Ever since you have met him. You both know you have no match against him. He will always win. Always.

You have been stuck with him since you were fifteen years old. You two never had any relationship or any sexual conduct until you were the legal age of eighteen. You would be lying if you said you didn’t fall for him over the years. He is all you know and Katsuki grew to like you over the years. Though he trained you to be the woman he wants you to be for him, you do throw a tantrum or two when needed.

“I hate you.” You sniveled.

“Sure you do. Let’s clean up that pretty face of yours so I can stuff it, eh?” Katsuki chuckled, cupping your chin with one hand so he can wipe your nose with a handkerchief with the other. You attempted to break loose of his firm grasp, but the male was not even phased.

“I don’t want your dick anywhere near me.” You admit allowed, still keeping the same angry tone within your words.

Katsuki arched his eyebrow, releasing your face from his grip and discarding the used cloth into the waste bin. “Considering the show you put on out there tonight, you’re lucky I’m not doing worse to you. I can always make that pretty ass of yours bruised too if you’d like?”

You immediately shake your head no. Your bottom is still a bit sore from two weeks ago when Katsuki put you over his knee. You are just now able to sit normal again. You do not need to go back to that.

“No, sir.” You stutter out, backing away from him and putting your hands behind your back. Katsuki is already pouring himself some whiskey into a whiskey glass that you make sure is always waiting on his dresser. He always enjoys a good drink after a long mission.

You take his black suit jacket off of him like expected and lay it on the dirty laundry hamper. Katsuki is already sitting on the bed, sipping on his alcoholic beverage, waiting for you to get to work. Kneeling before him, you begin unzipping his slacks and tugging down his underwear to reveal his erected cock. You take a moment to contemplate your future actions. You really did not want his dick in your mouth, but like Katsuki said before, you do not have a choice in the matter.

Your train of thought is derailed when Katsuki tugs on your hair. “Isn’t going to suck itself, brat. Get to work.”

Mentally groaning, your tongue swipes his length before placing kisses on the tip. Slowly, you begin taking in inch—by—inch. Saliva slid down his cock by the time you had it in your throat. Choking noises fed Katsuki’s already inflated ego.

“Can’t talk much with my cock down your throat, huh?” He teased, taking another sip of his whiskey. “For someone who claimed they didn’t want my cock to begin with, you sure are deep throating it rather quickly.”

You ignored his usual insults as you came up for air. You let out small coughs then go in for more, every vein being pleased with your tongue as you take it all in. Katsuki groans in pleasure as you pick up the speed. His cock is coated in your saliva as you did not slow down once to catch air. It wasn’t worth the ego boost he would feel from knowing he is too big for you.

Katsuki’s whiskey went unfinished as he could not focus on drinking it. Cum soon fills your hollow cheeks and down your throat as he releases into you. Not a drop was missed as you milked his cock. You were rewarded with a head pat.

“On the bed,” Katsuki instructs, “all fours.”

“Do I have to?” You whine. Katsuki vigorously grabs your chin, staring down into you. The room is dark, but his crimson eyes seemed to glow.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get on this fucking bed and shut your Goddamn mouth.” Katsuki hisses, sending chills down your spine. You do as you are told like he taught you. Arching your back, your ass is now in his perfect viewing. Katsuki’s clothes discarded to the hardwood floor below, his dick already erected at the sight of you.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Katsuki asked, rhetorically. He spreads you open more for his personal view. “Yeah, that’s it.” He comments, overviewing all of you. One of his hands stroked his cock while the other pressed on your begging clit. You let out a soft moan, hoping he didn’t hear.

Placing his hands on your hips, he drags you closer to him. Leveling you with his cock, the tip slowly slips into your entrance then proceeding to pick up full speed. Your cunt swallows all of him, hugging his cock with each rhythmic thrust. You can feel your tight walls get stretched by his girth with each entry he makes, not even giving you time to get used to his size as he exits to repeat the same process. No matter how many times you two have sex, you will never get used to Katsuki’s length and size.

“Katsuki—“ You sob in pleasure and in pain.

“Shut it, slut. You’re going to take all of my fucking cock and like it. I’m going to fuck the brat out of you tonight.” Katsuki demands, pressing down on your spine so your ass is more perked up for him to smack periodically. Your cries and moans are muffled into the European satin sheets below. You grip onto them for support as Katsuki does not slow down once.

Your pussy pulsates with each thrust. It was about to give out on you and cum all over his cock. Though you did not want to give him the satisfaction, your cunt had other plans as it became tighter around Katsuki’s length.

“Aw, is someone going to cum?” Katsuki coo’s condescendingly, beginning to go agonizingly slow.

You lift your head to beg for sweet release. “Please let me cum, sir. Pretty please. I need to oh so badly.” You sobbed. His silence made your insides do flips. His slow strokes did not once stop and his nails dug into your thighs.

“No.” Katsuki finally denies as he knows you cannot take anymore. You gasp, your heart stopping for a split second.

“Katsuki, please.” You hiccuped. “I really need to.”

“Should’ve thought about that before throwing a tantrum today. Good girls get to cum.” Katsuki shrugged, using his long muscular arm to push your head back into the mattress. “Now shut the hell up while I fuck you senseless.”

Just like Katsuki stated, he fucked you until his high was met. Of course, he did not make it easy as he was about to bust, he would go slower to edge himself. He wanted this to be a punishment to remember. The whole time, you behaved and did not cum. No matter how many times Katsuki tried to get you to slip, you refused.

“C’mon and cum, brat. Y’know you wanna.” Katsuki would tease with immaturity. All you could say was incoherent “no thank you’s.” A soft rub on your ass was telling you that you passed his test.

Countless minutes, maybe even hours, have passed until Katsuki decided he was ready to release himself. “You can cum now.” He finally grants. You did not get to even process his words as your pussy released onto his cock. Babbles of pleasure and gratitude escaped from your lips.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” Katsuki praises, his cock now removed from you. You whine at the hollowness you felt.

“Lay on your back.” He instructs, doing his best to keep it together. You follow his request and switch over to your back. “Play with your tits.”

Your fingers grab onto your sensitive nipples, swirling on them before giving them a nice little pinch. Katsuki stood over you, stroking his cock that is covered in his pre-cum.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” Katsuki praised once more, analyzing your lewd faces as your fingers played with your breast.

“Mm, cover me with your cum.” You encouraged, rubbing your thighs together and pushing your breast closer to one another. Katsuki became feral as cum squirted onto your chest and stomach. Just the sight of you is making Katsuki forget today ever happened.

Just like always, baby eyes.

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[subwaysurf45]

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.1)

Summary: you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title. 

Episode: One 

Words: 3948

Warning: depiction/description of violence, kidnapping, killing, PTSD, depression. 

A/N: I will be making a masterlist for this specific series!

Masterlist!

Winter Makes Ice (series masterlist)

Time: 1:36pm

Date: September 23rd, 2024

“Bucky, I swear to fucking god-” You threw the person you just knocked out onto the ground of the common room, “you have to get out of here, It’s you or this entire building!” Bucky gave you a sympathetic look as you fought off Hydra agents, your gun fired three shots behind you to another agent you sensed running up. 

“But I can’t leave you!” Bucky screamed back over the fire and bullets, Hydra agents were running in from every which way. The smoke rising made it harder for him to see you and Sam, who was also there a couple seconds ago. Everyone else was trying to stop the agents from the outside or other levels. It was a complete break-in. 

“Fuck all that Bucky, I love you but I can’t love you if you’re dead- Fuck!” You screamed in pure anger as you began hand to hand combat with an agent, he wasn’t good at all so it was a quick take down. “James!” you looked over to just see him standing there, his eyes were watery from the pain and smoke, “you need to fucking leave! Run!” you shouted, waving him off. 

“I love you!” He yelled over, hands cupping his mouth to make sure you heard him.

“I’ll tell you I love you after this, we’ll be okay,” you looked over your shoulder to find three new agents running in, their eyes weren’t even looking at you. You looked back to find Bucky still standing there, “fucking run!” Your throat felt raw, all the screaming and fighting was taking a massive toll on you. 

Bucky took off in the other direction, the fire was subsiding as he got further from you. The serum gave him lungs like no other, so running through fire and smoke was easy. With a frantic mind and tunnel vision his left and right mixed up, all Bucky was trying to find was an exit and it should’ve been easy but he’d turn back after remembering this wasn’t the right hallway. His hand was gripped tightly on his gun while the metal hand held a knife firmly, after getting his mind back he found he could throw better with his left and shoot with his right- his dominant hand is right anyway. 

“Anyone on their com?” Everyone had quickly shoved theirs in during the start of the ambush; half the SHIELD agents weren’t wearing their tactical gear. 

“Rogers is here,” Steve ended his sentence with a grunt. 

“So is Romanoff,” Nat sounded a bit more composed but still out of breath. 

“y/n is down on the main floor, she told me to run because all they’re after is me, someone needs to go down and help her,” he received a few confirmations before focusing back to the task at hand. The bright light of the afternoon sun blinded him for a second, with all the lights shutting off and the smoke it made it seem like it was night. Bucky reached up to rub his eyes to help adjust to the sun but ended up just rubbing smoke and fumes into them, “fuck!” He stumbled back against the closed door as he used his shirt to rub his eyes but that was also covered in his smoke. 

Bucky reached back and grabbed a completely full water jug that was the size of his palm, Bucky could feel his heart shatter as his eyes cleared because it was you who- only a matter of hours ago -was leading a very relaxed meeting about these water bottles, ‘you need to hydrate to stay on your feet’ you had said a couple times. His mind was as clear as his eyes, the way you were screaming at him to leave, the way you stood directly between him and the Hydra agents so they had to shoot through you to get him, the way you kept looking back to him with tears in your eyes because all you wanted was for him to stay but you knew better and sent him away. The tears mixed with the water as he sprayed his face, the smoke clung to his sweat like he did to you after a nightmare. The entire Avengers building was slowly caving in on itself, he could feel his heart lurch with every new piece of the building fall on the inside, he just hoped it didn’t hit you. 

He kept walking further from what he once called home, trying to get a better view of it all. He wanted to look away because he felt like all at once the building could crumble to pieces and consume you with it, there was no saving the building; and quite possibly you. 

“Wh-gent-hu?” Bucky had walked too far away from the building and the coms, all of them were close to low battery because of the last mission. Bucky ran towards the building and couldn’t see anyone on the roof, but as he ran closer the clearer the coms got. “Where-agent-I can’t-what is happ-sto-!” It was three different voices screaming together at once, Bucky whipped the doors open and saw just how much the inside changed. 

The walls weren’t a sophisticated grey anymore but rather charred and black, there was no roof, at all. Bucky ran into the common room to find everyone looking under fallen planks and bars of steel, he started lifting them too. Everyone was running around and screaming at eachother, everyone had a different level of injury. Steve was throwing support beams like nothing, Bucky ran over. “Who are we looking for, Steve?” 

Steve just looked at Bucky with tears falling down his face, his skin was brown with dirt but his tears left trails down his skin. “Bucky, man, I’m sorry…” Steve sniffled and covered his mouth. Natasha had walked over, her hands were shaking and clutching something close to her heart. 

“I think we have our answer,” Nat cried and handed Bucky the water bottles you introduced. 

“Who’s-” he was cut off when Bucky flipped the bottle to check the bottom, and there in your hand writing was your name, and a little heart next to it. 

Bucky felt as though his soul had just left his body, everyone was getting close to giving up the search for you. If your body would be found it would be a miracle for you to still be alive, your lungs would have been fried due to the smoke and a pillar could crush you like it was nothing. Sparks flew off of snapped electrical that could be electrocuting you at this moment, small fires still burned which could be living off our ashes, any of the pure destruction could be killing you. And yet people were giving up, by the look on Steve’s face Bucky knew he should as well. 

Time: 11:45am 

Date: September 23rd, 2024

“So you’re saying we have little squirt bottles, this is fucking great!” Sam laughed, he looked at the clear bottle that was shaped into a big teardrop, the kind marathon runners keep on their belt. He pulled a sharpie out of his pocket and wrote his name. 

You sat next to Bucky who was still feeling the effects of the last mission, it was at a Hydra base to just get intel but even then, it was still hard. Everyone got back a day ago and decided to push the debrief for the next day because of the shared exhaustion. Bucky slept for twelve hours because of it. 

“Do you like them?” you asked, referencing the bottles, you both held yours as you waited for the marker to be passed to you. 

“Anything you do, I like, sweetheart.” Bucky pulled you into his side and cuddled with you for a bit, he had always found your touch was a good way to stay grounded. Your heart beat could be felt anywhere, and Bucky would always try and match it. The marker was passed to you both and you wrote your names, a little heart found its home next to the last letter of your name, Bucky could only smile wide and shake his head and he took the marker and wrote his. 

You and Bucky made your way back to your shared room before cuddling up in bed, a movie was thrown on and you both watched it as your eyes started to close. Bucky was awake, he kept looking down at your head on his shoulder to leave a little kiss, he’d always let his lips linger on the top of your head so he could smell your shampoo. Normally you were clinging to him for warmth but he could feel you were radiating heat, your sweater was actually his and the covers were tucked to you and Bucky got the edge, this wasn’t new for him. You were almost asleep but still every minute or so you’d subconsciously snuggle your cheek deeper into Bucky’s shoulder, small little circles in Bucky’s shoulder as you got more comfy. 

Bucky ended up falling asleep too, it was weird when he would wake and realize how vulnerable he was to be asleep with you beside him and the door unlocked, he would smile at himself and make a mental note to bring it up to his therapist that he slept soundly again. Bucky probably could’ve gone the entire night but was woken up by a hard time breathing, something was caught in his throat so his cough woke him up. Then his dry cough woke you up, right away your nose turned up at the smell. 

“Smells like burnt,” you said and stood up, a couple joints popping back into place. 

“Ya, that’s what it was,” Bucky nodded, he pulled his shirt over his nose. 

“Wanda needs to leave Nat alone with the cooking thing, Nat doesn’t like to cook so I don’t know why Wanda keeps bugging her, right?” you turned back to Bucky, he was nodding along. “Everyone has their thing, cooking isn’t Nat’s thing but that's fine,” you sighed, “I’m gonna actually talk to Wanda about-” 

Three bangs landed right on your door, you jumped back from it and Bucky stood up. Two guns were pulled out of the bedside tables, Bucky tossed one of them to you. The banging went again and it wasn’t a friendly bang, you both knew this wasn’t one of your friends. The safety of the guns were both pulled back with a ticking sound, Bucky put his clip in his gun, you like to use a revolver and it was already ready. The top hinge blew off and the door slightly fell forward, the lights were off and the emergency ones gave little light, there was smoke crawling through the cracks in the door. Bucky had made his way to the other side of the bed to you, now you were both in front of the door. 

“Who do you think it is?” You whispered to him, your shoulders rubbed against his with quick breathes. 

“No idea,” Bucky muttered back, his lips barely moved. 

The door busted down and because you both were ready the guy didn’t stand a chance, the intruder fell back in an instant at the rapid fire from the guns, the sound would be as loud as the banging on the door. The intruder wasn’t even ready to fire, his gun flipped out of his holster and slid a tiny bit on the tile floors before stopping. The emergency lights hit the silver gun perfectly, you noticed red on it but it didn’t look like blood, there was some type of symbol or branding on it. You slowly walked closer, your bare feet not giving away you were moving in case someone was waiting before the threshold of the door. 

“Bucky…” you whispered and turned to him, “you gotta get out of here,” you slowly bent down and picked up the gun, the Hydra symbol was hard to see now that it was not getting any light. Bucky’s nostrils flared as a way to hide what he was feeling, his mouth opened to try and talk this through but the sounds of coughing, guns, and screams took its place. 

You both ran to the common room, everyone was there, fighting an agent. Coming from a third angle you took out some of the agents with your gun, they didn’t see it coming; neither did Nat as she pointed her gun in your direction. 

“They want their intel back, go to the computers!” Steve screamed, you turned and ran. 

Bucky joined the fight in the common room, he kept looking back to see you getting smaller and smaller down the hall. All he had was his gun and a knife he picked up from his dresser, both were used as more and more Hydra agents ran in and came from the ceiling that was falling apart. 

You turned quickly into the room, computers and wires everywhere. Your time was spent in the training room rather than here, but you logged in mission reports on the computers. Hard drives of every mission, every person, and every thing were connected everywhere. Tons of information that could give Hydra the upperhand, there were still hard drives you had just stolen from Hydra that no one had looked into yet. This was all they wanted, but it was weird to see how many agents were coming in and not making their way to the intel room. You stood on guard with your gun out and ready, you weren’t wearing anything protective so you stood behind an old computer that was yet to be thrown out. 

A man walked in, he was tall and slim. Brown hair curled down to his shoulders and his eyes were a dark green, they pierced right through you. You were about to shoot but he just put out his hand, his index finger coming up and wagging you off. “I wouldn’t do that,” he warned, his voice was like gravel. 

“Why not?” You grunted, finger ready on the trigger. 

He didn’t even reach for his gun, his hands out in front of him. “Because, you’d never shoot the messenger, would you?” His hands lowered but he kept them out. You slowly lowered your gun but kept your hands ready, fingers still holding the trigger. “I came on my own terms, no leader sent me,” He added and pulled a chair out. 

“Out with it, I don’t need your cryptic bullshit!” your gun was raised again, “hands up!” 

He raised them, “we don’t want intel.” 

“What?” 

“You stole our intel, that’s fine.” his nose stuffed up, “but you steal our weapon, rid him of his purpose...then we have an issue.”  

“He’s not a weapon!” you knew exactly who they were talking about, “and we didn’t steal him, we saved him, we saved Bucky!” you yelled again, tears gathering in your eyes. 

The man sat back on his chair, “I don’t care at this point, none of us do, you either give us our Winter Soldier or we will burn this place to the ground.” He stood to size you up, “the message has been given, shoot me if you want, I heard humans are flammable so I’d help burn this place-” 

The man's brain flew out and hit the walls, blood sprayed over you and the computers. His knees folded in and the hole in his head slammed against the floor, you should have let him suffer but he probably was working for Hydra, and that’s suffering everyday. The man’s skin whitened in a matter of seconds, all the blood rushing out of that one spot was getting near the electrical, so you ran back to the common room. 

Bucky was there, “most of them went to the roof, we got it down here!” He screamed. 

“They’re after you!” you yelled and shot a few agents down, “this isn’t intel, they want you Bucky!” The smoke was flying up and with all the fast movements, it was getting harder to see him, but you saw the metal arm in the reflection. 

“It doesn’t matter, I’m staying here!” He stopped to reload, but you knocked someone down and turned to face him. 

“Bucky, I swear to fucking god-” You threw the person you just knocked out onto the ground of the common room, “you have to get out of here, It’s you or this entire building!” Bucky gave you a sympathetic look as you fought off Hydra agents, your gun fired three shots behind you to another agent you sensed running up. 

“But I can’t leave you!” Bucky screamed back over the fire and bullets, Hydra agents were running in from every which way. The smoke rising made it harder for him to see you and Sam, who was also there a couple seconds ago. Everyone else was trying to stop the agents from the outside or other levels. It was a complete break-in. 

“Fuck all that Bucky, I love you but I can’t love you if you’re dead- Fuck!” You screamed in pure anger as you began hand to hand combat with an agent, he wasn’t good at all so it was a quick take down. “James!” you looked over to just see him standing there, his eyes were watery from the pain and smoke, “you need to fucking leave! Run!” you shouted, waving him off. 

 Bucky took off but as he ran away, right before you lost sight of him, an arm wrapped tightly around your neck. You couldn’t see a face but you heard a voice, “he’ll turn himself in if he knows we have you, now this will hurt.” the butt of a gun slammed your temple, all you saw was black. 

Time: unknown 

Date: unknown

Your head hurt so bad, right as you were waking up it was a pulsing ache everywhere from between your eyes to your neck. It felt like waves, for a moment the pressure would drop but then slowly crawl back in, nothing was rigid. In the room you found yourself in there wasn’t much to register, just a cell that was a little longer than arm's length and some black box on the ceiling, it wasn’t a light but it seemed to hold something. There was no bed as well, you were sat up against the wall in a corner. As you moved to look around your neck all the way down to your knees ached; not to mention the pressure building in your head. It felt like you had been struck in the back of the head even though you thought it was in your temple when you were knocked out, your hand cupped high on your neck, right where your hair started. There was a sting and you pulled away with a hiss, a few pieces of scab came with it. 

There were no windows, no source of light to see what time it was. But the fact that whatever cut was made to the back of your head was a fully scabbed and not bleeding gave away you had been asleep for a bit, that almost made it worse. 

“Welcome, Soldat,” a voice with an accent came through, it was one you couldn’t figure out. “It seems our other weapon got away, we were gifted you instead; we are happy about it no less.'' the voice was coming from a speaker in the top left corner, not the black box directly above you. 

“Where am I?” your voice sounded like sandpaper. 

“In your cell,” you could hear the smirk, “but you’re not in Avenger’s territory anymore, would you like to know where you are?” he didn’t wait for you to answer, “I’ll give it to you if you follow this simple task, would you mind getting on your knees?” the voice asked, you stayed still, “right, I forgot. Soldat, get on your knees.” right away your knees smashed into the concrete floor. “Would you look at that, how pretty?” 

“What that fuck?” you gasped out, your hands folded neatly on your lap as you sat back on your calves. 

“Now that we know your abilities, you’re in Iceland, Hydra gifted us you.” 

“You’re not Hydra?” you asked, this time louder and looking at the speaker. 

“Oh, we are Hydra.” the voice laughed, “just not how you think we are...” 

Time: 9:59pm

Date: September 27th, 2024

Bucky didn’t know how long he’d been curled in his bed with the curtains drawn, there was no perception of time at all. All he did was cry, all day. His body ached and crumbled into itself more and more as time went on. Everyone was mourning the loss of a friend, but to Bucky it was a lover. He held the picture you framed after your first date as a couple, that was one of the first times Bucky had truly smiled. 

You both went to a really nice restaurant and when you were finished you waiter offered to take a picture because they saw you getting self conscious when your arm was up to take a selfie. The both of you leaned over the table and close to one another, right before the picture was taken Bucky reached over and placed his metal hand over yours, allowing it to be seen in the picture. It was something he regretted but after you framed it and kept it on your side of the bed, Bucky looked at it everyday with a smile. 

The picture was still in the frame but it wasn’t on the bedside anymore, rather pushed up against Bucky’s chest. He’d pull it away to look at you from time to time, after picturing all the good times with you, your face seemed to change and warp until it wasn’t you. Bucky would run his finger down the glass and try to imagine the feeling of your skin again, he’d lost almost everyone in his life, all he wanted was to feel you one last time if it really was your time to go. Your smile was so bright it lit up the pitch black room he was crying in, your smile and your personality could keep an entire country running for years. 

He ran out of salty tears and all that was left was wheezing and rocking back and forth in his bed, the emotions were working him out, sweat lines the neck rim of his t-shirt, but he’d also use the neck line to wipe the tears that slipped past his nose and lips. They would roll down and hit his pillow, he had already flipped it to get a dry surface. 

Steve walked in, he didn’t need to knock because he knew what’s coming. Steve had watched you and Bucky grow from barely speaking to napping on the couch for everyone to see, it took a while but Steve knew from the beginning that you were perfect for him. Steve brought Bucky a sandwich everyday at noon because he refused to eat dinner and breakfast. Some days he wouldn’t eat at all but noon seemed to be the best time for him to eat everything. 

“Wanda made it today actually, she added some chips on the side and made it real nice, Buck,” Steve went to the windows and opened the blinds, he did that everyday but  when he would come back 24 hours later they’d be closed. “I also have news, about y/n…” 

Steve saw for the first time in four days Bucky sit up, he saw the grief fade and a small shred of hope appear.

A/n: if you want to be tagged in this series let me know through an ask or anything!

[lady-byleth]

Sooooo, Shepard had a clone right? Knowing how much Cerberus likes to go above and beyond, there's a high chance that there's more than one. And the one we meet was comatose until needed, which she never was...so what if there's a whole bunch of clones in various stages of growth that just got frozen after Shepard went rogue

And after the war Miranda decides to see if she can find the rest and uncovers a whole storage of clones. Most of them are dead, either due to complications during development or because of cryo getting interrupted during the war

But one is still alive and asleep, so Miranda tells Shepard, who has only recently been released from the hospital, and takes her there so she can decide what to do with the clone herself.

Of course Garrus is there too cuz he's not letting Shepard out of sight until he's 100% sure she's not gonna get herself blown up again

Tali, Liara, Joker and EDI obviously can't be dissuade from joining either - EDI makes a compelling argument about having to test her new body that is actually complete bullshit, she's just curious - and James and Cortez just tag along because everyone else is going and it's about clones and the have Experience.

Javik comes too, cuz he's bored and Liara made vague comments about there maybe being Cerberus agents to fight, and Kaidan has a Bad Feeling about all these knuckleheads being in one room together so he comes along to keep the peace. That's a lie actually, he's just happy to be here.

Samara somehow shows up too, though no one actually contacted her cuz no one knew how. She just heard "Shepard" and "Cerberus" and decided "that could be trouble" and here she is

Grunt would have loved to go but Wrex tells him if he can't go then Grunt can't either cuz that would be unfair.

Jack has the kids to take care of and Jacob has his kid to take care of, so they're not able to come but promise help should there be some Cerberus agents that need blowing up.

Zaeed just sends a photo of himself at the pool titled "I'm fucking retired".

So Miranda ends up having to fly a huge group of people to that lab she found, which she grumbles about but she's not fooling anyone anymore.

As it turns out the facility is completely abandoned and powered down, except for the emergency power in the lab that's supposed to keep the clones alive. They check the whole place before they descend into the basement, looking for the one pod still active that Miranda found

They move past a bunch of pods with clones ranging from young girls to women the same age as Shepard and it's both fascinating and horrifying at the same time.

Shepard for her part seems to take it pretty well though she does stick close to Garrus who slings an arm around her shoulders to steady her. Tali links arms with her and Shepard gives her a small smile.

The active pod is in the far back and, at first glance, looks empty. Liara immediately grabs the data pad sitting beside it and flips through the many charts and notes on it, frowning in thought.

She mumbles something about "no growth hormones administered", gasps a small "oh" and holds the pad out a little so Miranda can read along with her as EDI starts typing on the console attached to the pod itself

"Oh!" she says after a moment, as if to echo Liara. Joker steps up next to her, trying to make sense of what she's looking at.

"What? How evil is it gonna be?"

EDI doesn't answer but turns to Shepard, a strange sparkle in her eyes that wasn't there when she first got a body. She looks both delighted and amazed. "Shall I open it?"

Shepard looks at the pod, worries her lower lip for a moment. Garrus squeezes her gently, Tali hugs her arm closer. The rest of their group closes rank around her, steadying her with their presence.

They're all here for her, no matter what. So she nods.

"Do it."

There's a low hissing sound and a blast of cold air, fog rolls out of the pod as the lid slides open slowly. For some reason Miranda and Liara look almost giddy, though Liara has to keep pushing Javik's hand down because he keeps trying to aim his gun.

James is standing on his tip toes to see into the pod before its even fully open and almost falls over when a very unexpected sound suddenly echoes through the room.

It's a crying voice. A baby's crying voice.

Samara immediately bolts forward, the instincts of a mother taking over, and she bends down into the pod and emerges with what's indeed a baby.

"Holy shit!" James looks flabbergasted.

"Holy shit..." Cortez doesn't look any better.

"Holy shit, indeed!" Somehow Kasumi is here too.

Samara rocks the little girl in her arms, scrutinizes her closely and smiles.

"Yes, I feel a strong resemblance to you," she says, gracefully moving to a completely stunned Shepard.

If you've never seen a galactic hero speechless, suddenly confront them with a baby clone of themself and that should do the trick.

The baby of course doesn't know that, she's just screaming, probably cold and scared and disoriented. She's squirming in Samara's arms, oblivious to Liara, Miranda, Tali, Kaidan and - surprisingly - EDI who are crowding around Samara to catch a glimpse, cooing already

Samara doesn't even try calming the little girl down, she has other ideas. Before Shepard can refuse Samara deposits the baby into her arms, adjusts her grip and then steps back, an almost mischievous tilt to her serene smile.

The baby calms immediately, big eyes the same color as Shepard's blinking up at a face that will he hers one day.

Shepard is motionless, looking like someone just slapped her with a frying pan...until the baby suddenly starts squealing in delight.

The unease melts from Shepard's face, a slightly confused but warm smile replacing it, and she gently shifts the baby closer to her chest, speaking to her quietly.

Little feet kick with delight, small hands reach out to grab at her face, and careful, scarred fingers brush plump baby cheeks and Samara watches with obvious satisfaction as her friends crowd around Shepard to continue cooing at the little girl now laughing happily

Shepard doesn't see it, focused on the baby as she is, but James just bursts into tears at the adorable picture while Cortez tries to console him without looking away. .

Joker is sniffing a little bit too but instead of staying in the background he loudly says "brittle bones coming through" and pushes to the front of the group. The baby immediately steals his cap. He is delighted. EDI is delighted that he is delighted.

Javik pretends very hard not to be mesmerized by the first human baby he's ever seen. He's failing miserably, much to Kaidan's amusement.

Garrus sticks to the sidelines, arms crossed over his chest, a thoughtful expression on his face. He remembers London, the half joking half serious conversation about adopting kids after the war is finished.

He'd shelved the thought in favor of focusing on recuperating, fixing what the war had destroyed, and building up Shepard who had to wrestle with severe injuries, PTSD and survivor's guilt without the distraction of a galactic war to keep her from realizing how much she was suffering.

But...it had been months, life was slowly returning to some semblance of normalcy - as much as was possible after the heavy losses - and Shepard was getting better. Therapy was going well. She would never be fully free of what she'd been through, but she was determined to get better and Hackett had arranged for the best help in the galaxy.

She was getting better. And restless. She had started spending more time with the orphans, playing with them, teaching them.

She'd always loved children. And Garrus had been very serious about starting a family with her, not so much about the cross species babies that biologically wouldn't happen.

But here was a baby that Shepard already had a connection with, a baby that she obviously already adored. He hadn't seen her smile like that in a long time. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Yes. This could be good.

He feels Samara sidle up beside him, smiling knowingly. "You should suggest it," she says.

Garrus nods, shoots her a smile. "Yeah, I think I will."

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for blood/violence and language Genre: Action with a lil bit of fluff Warnings: Lil bit of blood Notes: There's an unnamed character in here who may or may not end up as recurring in my stories. I don't really have anything in particular planned for her, she's kinda just here to fill a role/allow for some easter egg type shit in the next chapter. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1, Pt. 2

{Wounded Love 3: Bloody Valentine (No, not that Valentine)}

“Mother Miranda, I must insist, if these lycans stray any further they might start feasting on the village as well! Pray tell, who will you use for research then? We can’t just-... Forgive me… Mhmm. Yes, I understand. Of course… Have a good night, Mother Miranda,” Lady Dimitrescu said, before setting her phone down with a loud thunk. Her hands shake a little, and for a moment you worry that her vanity won’t survive the coming moments. Then you make eye contact with her reflection, giving her an encouraging smile, watching as her gaze softens. “I’m afraid there’s nothing she can do, my dear. I cannot allow Heisenberg’s negligence to go unpunished, but we will have to take care of it on our own, without Mother Miranda’s support.”

“Is that wise, love? To go behind her back like this? I can’t imagine she’ll be terribly pleased if we cause chaos for one of her favored few,” you replied, clicking your tongue as you thought things over. Again you see anger cloud Alcina’s face, though she makes sure not to direct it at you.

“We are not the ones who started this mess,” she reminded you, through clenched teeth. “But we will be the ones to end it, one way or another. I don’t care if I have to gut that wretched man-thing and bring Miranda his corpse as proof of his incompetence! He has shown his lack of loyalty hundreds of times… and now he will pay.” Gulping, you rise to your feet, wanting to comfort your girlfriend. While you had understood that your injury angered her, you hadn’t (until this moment) realized the sheer intensity of that rage. How much blood would be shed before this was over?...

-----------------------------

Crimson drips down the beast’s side, across matted fur, before hitting the wooden floor. A stench as awful as you had ever found filled the air, only made tolerable by the nearby presence of scented candles. What a mess, you think, glad that you wouldn’t be the one to clean it up. Why had the girls insisted on bringing the damn thing inside? Couldn’t they have simply snatched a few teeth from its jaw as a prize? Somehow you doubted that the thought had even crossed their minds. Violence was a passion of theirs, and they preferred their trophies to be as large as the effort they put into getting it.

“How close to the path did you find it?” You asked after finishing your examination of the lycan. Next to you, the eldest daughter is rapidly taking notes in a leather-bound journal. Both of her siblings stand near the fireplace, hands held out next to the flames, needing to warm up after being outside for so long. It wasn’t even that cold of a day, with temperatures averaging around eighteen degrees celsius. All the snowfall from the prior week had now melted. While you knew of the family’s weakness, you also knew that they had bundled up before leaving, and had even taken a torch with them in the hopes of using it on a lycan. Their powers had taken somewhat of a hit, temporarily, but not nearly enough to prevent them from killing a single lycan.

“Heard it howling almost as soon as we left the castle. We couldn’t smell it until halfway to the village, though. Once we could we tried to track it, only for the stupid thing to come charging at us. Must have been eight, maybe ten, meters away by the time we collided,” Cassandra answered. There’s a bit of a shiver to her voice, and you can’t help the rush of sympathy you feel in response. Being out on the path, wearing little more than a dress and scarf, had been absolute hell for you. Even if it was warmer outside now, you imagined that being weak to the cold just about made up for the difference. “There was a little more howling once we started walking back here. Louder, if not closer. Heisenbitch isn’t even trying to keep these fucking things in check.”

“Cassandra, language!” Came a voice in the distance, making everyone present look up at once. Strutting down the stairs was a clearly miffed Alcina, eyes narrowed, body tense. “Did you three really have to bring the mutt inside? Surely you advocated against this, Bela? Or did you think I wanted new bloodstains right by the entrance, where everyone can see them?” Next to you Bela winces, but doesn’t respond, too worried about angering her mother further. “And you, my dear, what on Earth are you doing on the floor? You should be resting, in an actual chair, if not lying in bed awaiting my return. There’s enough for me to worry about without you limping around on a useless leg!”

Now it was your turn to wince.

“Please, love, I know you’re stressed, but I can still help. Given enough time I could help ascertain these things’ weaknesses. At the very least I could pass on what I learned during my fight with one,” you pleaded. Then you tried to stand up, wanting to prove yourself, only to stumble, barely avoiding a faceplant- and only doing so because of Bela’s quick reaction time. She helped you to your feet, letting you lean on her, then lead you towards a bench. Begrudgingly you sit back down. “You’re only doing this because I got hurt. Helping you in your endeavor to avenge me is the least I can do.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Alcina snapped, now just a couple meters away from you. Even with that space between you, her presence was intimidating, and you almost felt like a child being scolded. “Were you to get hurt again, how would we avenge you? If you fall by your own hand, there will be naught I can do other than lock you away somewhere without any dangerous elements. What sort of existence would that be for you? I simply can’t allow it, no exceptions.” At this you pout, feeling rather disappointed. It’s not as if you were asking to carry a gun and shoot Heisenberg yourself! Not that you would be opposed to doing so, of course. “Try to put yourself in my place, my dear. Could you live with yourself if you failed to protect me?”

“I suppose I could not, love. Very well, I shall simply root you on from here, and kiss away any injuries you return with,” you replied, at last giving in. Then you found yourself smiling… and on the receiving end of a very soft forehead kiss. “Nothing will separate us, my love. None can tear apart that which the universe has stitched together.”

-----------------------------

“Like I said, my Lady, I already want him dead. Did you really think that your family was the only one to suffer because of his machinations? I know half a dozen people who would love to put a bullet in that fucker’s skull, bare mims,” the huntress said, white teeth showing in her half-smirk. There was an odd coolness to her voice, like this whole ordeal was just another job, and you couldn’t help but feel uncertain about her. Could she really be the solution to Alcina’s problem? You couldn’t even judge her arsenal, considering she had been instructed to come unarmed. After all, she was a hunter of monsters, with a sizable history to her name. If not for her hatred of Heisenberg, you would never have felt comfortable letting her come within two hundred meters of your girlfriend.

“How can I be sure that you’ll succeed? The last thing I want is to have that wretched man-thing come crawling out of the filth he lives in, angry and coming for vengeance,” Alcina responded, scrutinizing gaze locked on the huntress.

“Didn’t Duke give you my file? Or at least read the good bits out loud? I’ve been in my fair share of scraps, with all sorts of bioweapon mutant freaks. Besides, I don’t plan on leaving any receipts behind. If he manages to survive, which is already one hell of an if, there’s no way he can prove that you asked me to do it. Considering he’s already seen my face, and knows I want him dead… yeah, he won’t bother accusing you, not when I’m in the picture, and certainly not when you’ve got such a big reputation for following Mother Miranda’s word down to the very last letter. So, you gonna make this official, or what?” The huntress asked, gesturing her arms wide. Although you’re still not convinced, Alcina nods quietly, seeming ready to make her decision. Regardless of how you feel about the stranger in front of you, you’re more than willing to support your girlfriend in whatever she planned.

“Very well, huntress. Show us just what you’re capable of.”

-----------------------------

Flames licked at her heels, even as she charged forward, tickling like hot breaths against her skin. Behind her half a dozen lycans roared and screeched in unison. Smoke and ashes flew upwards, into the air, but could not poison her lungs, not when she had come prepared. Still, the mask was not as easy to breathe in as she had hoped, making her chest heave with effort at each intake of air. Good thing I’ll be gone soon, she thought, sparing a glance behind her as she ran. Dozens of trees were aflame, and countless glowing eyes watched from between the branches. They wouldn’t be there for much longer, not with what she had done.

Soon enough an explosion would shake the Earth. Then, finally, both the lycans who had killed her father and the man who desecrated the remains would be dead. And if a certain countess happened to pay her for her services? All the better, really. Funerals could be expensive, especially in such a remote village. More than that… there was no guarantee that she’d be able to outrun Mother Miranda on her own. A little money would make the flight out a hell of a lot nicer.

Assuming she made it that far. There was another scream behind her, this one more human, though somewhat warped by mechanics. It wasn’t a pained cry. No, it was filled with rage. Clearly Heisenberg had come out of his lair, hearing the fireworks, finding his scrap metal and werewolf army in chaos. From the sound of things- metal against metal, electricity crackling- he was coming her way.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” She muttered, desperately trying to get to higher ground. Even if the lycans succumbed to the overwhelming fire, it wouldn’t be hard for their leader to overcome. But the huntress was still too close to her explosives to risk activating the detonator. Just a bit farther, she thought, ignoring the way her lungs ached. Rocks kicked up with every step, loud enough to be heard from a distance, and made traction harder to keep. In the end she had to scramble to get up the side of a short cliff. A few scrapes appeared on her hands, making her curse under her breath.

But with one last movement, pulling herself up with both arms, she was finally far enough to be relatively safe. In one clean second she turned around, pulled the detonator out of its pouch and clicked the trigger. Just like that, a forest blazing turns into a mushroom cloud of pure hellfire. The setting sun makes for a beautiful backdrop, and the sight almost brings a tear to the huntress’ eyes. For a few moments she just enjoys the view. Then, without hesitation or remorse, she starts to walk away, mentally congratulating herself for a job well done.

Until something shoots past her head with terrifying speed. Before she can react another sharp piece of metal flies past her, grazing her arm, and there’s a blood-curdling roar from behind her. Then she’s running, fast as she can, pulse pounding harder than it ever has. One hand goes to the rifle on her back, pulling it out as quickly as she can. The area is rocky, with plenty of outcrops, perfect to hide behind (assuming there weren’t any hidden metal deposits). Quickly she ducks behind one, crouching to keep her head out of sight. Mere milliseconds later another metal spike slams into the ground just beyond her cover.

In the distance, more screams pierce the air, and something heavy drags itself across the ground. It almost sounds like a tank rolling through the woods. The thought alone worries the huntress, but she had never been one to let her fear control her. So she double checks her rifle, adjusts the scope, and pops out of cover. Less than a second later she has her target in her sights. It’s Heisenberg, for sure, more metal than man, but dripping with red. One press of the trigger sends a bullet straight for his ugly head. Unsurprisingly, it’s not enough to pierce his cranium, instead making him mad as hell.

Which is why automatic guns were invented, probably. The huntress holds the trigger down this time, though briefly, before dashing to the next piece of cover. She repeats the process a few times, hoping to kill the man before he could climb the cliff she stood on. If he managed to get up there with her… no, she couldn’t think about that, not now. She had to focus.

-----------------------------

Hidden among the trees, the Dimitrescu sisters watched as plumes of smoke rose in the distance. Even though they had been aware of the huntress’ plan, they hadn’t expected this much carnage. It was certainly exciting! But they really couldn’t see much from where they were. Getting closer was probably a horrible idea, and yet Cassandra shared a meaningful look with Daniela. A split second later they were forming a swarm, rushing into the trees, leaving their elder sister to yell after them.

“Mother’s going to kill me,” Bela said, before rolling her eyes and following. Maybe she could at least keep them out of trouble?... Probably not.

-----------------------------

Metal hands wrap around the huntress’ throat, squeezing hard, but do not twist or otherwise break their prey. No, Heisenberg does not intend to end this that quickly. This rodent had taken so much from him, set his plans back by decades. He was going to kill her slowly. When she still fights back, pulling a knife from her boot and trying to stab whatever she can reach, he does little else but laugh. It’s a crazed cackling that echoes through the surrounding rocky hills.

Just barely loud enough to drown out the sound of insects buzzing.

“Fuck that guy!” Someone shouted, right as a sickle descended upon the monstrous Heisenberg’s neck. The first slice isn’t enough to sever the connection, which is why it’s immediately followed by a second, from another sister, then a third, from the eldest, that finally does the job. Just like that the hands release from the huntress’ throat, and she gasps for air. Coughs leave her distracted as the sisters move to surround her. “Good thing we wanted to see the show up close and personal, eh?” Daniela asked, twirling her sickle with a little giggle.

“You idiots are just lucky I followed you,” Bela added, glaring at her sister. Internally, she was relieved that the end result was a success. Still, she worried about what her mother would think, and certainly didn’t intend to voice her satisfaction at delivering the killing blow. “Now let’s get back, before mother assumes the worst and comes to get us herself.” Sighing, she extends a hand to help the huntress up. Though their mutual enemy had been defeated, there was still much to be done. Who knew how Mother Miranda would react? Who, if anyone, would take Heisenberg’s place? There was plenty to be unsure about, and Bela let her mind wander the whole way back, hoping that things would only get better from here...

[ssahoodrathotchner]

Lover, Please Stay

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: you get shot and Hotch worries about you while trying to keep it together. 

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: swearing, shooting, blood, injuries, hospitals, some angst and then fluff, mostly just wanted to write some worried!Hotch 

A/N: here we go! this is my first fic, so enjoy

Masterlist

---

As far as dates go, getting shot in the stomach twice was definitely not the way you wanted the night to end. Especially because you actually cared about the man sitting across from you in the dim lighting of the restaurant and you definitely had something else planned involving him, your clothes hitting the floor, and then the wall, kitchen counter, possibly the sofa, and of course, your bed and maybe the shower—but all that would have to wait as you slump back in your chair, stunned and bleeding. To his credit, however, Aaron Hotchner is not about to let the man who shot you get away with it, and swiftly tackles, disarms, and subdues the shooter, in record time, you think hazily to yourself with a small smile. After making sure the unsub won’t do anything else –not that he could even if he wanted to– Aaron turns to you. Eyes wild, he finds you –rather dramatically if you say so yourself—bleeding out and losing consciousness. So much for after-dinner plans.

“How romantic,” you gasp out and suddenly at your side, Aaron tips you out of your chair and lays you on the ground, immediately shedding his jacket to apply pressure to your abdomen and the growing red spots staining the dark green dress you had worn tonight. Fuck you loved this dress. And his jacket.

“….Sweetheart? You still with me?” Aaron’s voice wavers, and you realize he’s leaning over you and trying to gauge how you’re doing, aside from the obvious, of course.

You huff a laugh out—big mistake—and a small cry tears out of your throat as the pain in your midsection makes you regret your actions. Turning your head with a surprising amount of effort, your eyes float over him, taking in the way his hair sticks up, the frantic gleam to his eyes (tears?) and then down the black button-down he wore to his bloody hands on your body. You try for a reassuring smile—it doesn’t land—and then there’s some sort of commotion on the other side of the restaurant which you belatedly realize is the stampede of patrons out, as the ambulance slams to a halt outside, sirens blaring.

“Love, y’need t’figure this out,” you grit out, knowing that he won’t—can’t—argue with you as you look up at him.

“Y/N...”

“No, Aaron. Get th’ team,” your eyes are closing and breathing is getting harder so you stop, and hope that he figures this out. He has to. You know Aaron will want to protect you and go to the hospital this instant, but you can’t let him do that just yet. Not this time. It’s not everyday a BAU agent gets shot in a crowded restaurant in front of her boyfriend, who is also a BAU agent. It’s too weird to be random and the rest of the team needs to get here now.

The next few moments pass in a blur of shouting and pain, as you are lifted on to a stretcher and poked and prodded. Tiredly, you try to keep your eyes on Aaron, but in the noise you find your head rushing and with a sharp pain in your stomach, you fall into darkness.

Barred from climbing into the ambulance with you, Aaron has never been so scared and enraged. The ambulance screeches towards the hospital as he quickly fires off a text to the team –you’ve been shot, it doesn’t look good, meet him at the restaurant. And then he sits on the sidewalk. And thinks. And seethes.

How could he not have noticed the man advancing toward your table sooner? How could he not have noticed how out of place the man looked and the way that he kept a hand in his jacket pocket? And finally, why didn’t the man shoot him before getting taken down? Head in his hands, Hotch lets out a sigh before clenching his fists and closing his eyes, waiting. There are police officers milling around, taping off the restaurant and the unsub is in a car around here somewhere, or maybe already on his way to the police station, but Aaron can’t shake the fear in his mind. He should be speeding off after the ambulance, keeping you company, and pacing the hospital lobby until he knows you’re okay. You need to be okay. But your words ring in his head, figure this out, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try. You need him to try. He needs to focus.

A hand claps down on his shoulder and Aaron jerks his head up to find Morgan and Prentiss looking at him with sad eyes. Accepting Morgan’s hand, Hotch stands, and after a beat, straightens up and becomes SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, and not Aaron Hotchner, concerned and, quite frankly, terrified boyfriend.

“Garcia is pulling security footage from the restaurant and surrounding area. She’s also keeping tabs on the unsub at the police station and will let us know as soon as the cops figure out who this guy is.” Morgan says as Hotch looks around at the crime scene that’s sprung up around him.

“Unless she figures it out first,” Prentiss adds “which she probably will, it’s Garcia.”

A black SUV pulls up, and Reid, Rossi, and JJ emerge. Rossi immediately takes stock of the blood on Aaron’s hands and the usual chaos of a crime scene. Reid looks shaken to his core, and JJ isn’t much better, although she is valiantly trying to put on a brave face if only for her own sake.

“Aaron, you should be at the hospital. We can handle this,”

“Dave, she told me to figure it out. It was one of the last things she said and if I don’t and she…” Aaron trails off as the rest of the team looks at him, worried.

“I need to do this for her,” he says softly, thinking of how you looked as you were whisked away by the ambulance. How you passed out, face contorted in pain and then still.

“Hotch…” JJ lays a hand on his arm and squeezes.

“We got this. You can run point from the hospital with Garcia,”

That shakes him a bit.

“Garcia is running point from the hospital?” he wants to smile, but he can’t. Not while you’re possibly fatally injured.

“Of course she is,” says Morgan with a small smile.

“She went directly there after you texted us. She said she doesn’t want Y/N to be alone, ” Spencer supplies, and Hotch can’t help but be startled by how much he appreciates the thoughtfulness of his team in this moment.

Looking around the circle, he realizes that he doesn’t have to take on the investigation and your injury alone. No shit, he can hear you say. That’s what they’re here for, dumbass. Teamwork.

Halfheartedly, he tries “but the police need to take my statement and—“

“—and they can do that from the hospital after we’re done here, I’m sure they’ll make an exception for the Unit Chief of the BAU since his girlfriend got shot,” Rossi finishes for him. “Aaron. Go.”

“Come on, Hotch, I’ll drive,” and as JJ pulls him into the SUV, he watches the rest of the team disperse amongst the police and crime scene techs with a determination and focus he wishes he could emulate right now. Instead, he tries to focus on getting to you and how good it’ll feel to hold your hand again.

---

The ambulance ride is blurry and the lights are too bright and the noises too loud as you slide in and out of consciousness after initially passing out. Vaguely, you hear something about a perforated something or other and blood loss, but that’s really all you can understand before going back to being unconscious. Again. If only falling asleep was this easy.

---

Aaron never particularly liked hospitals, but now, with your life in danger, he hates them. Striding into the lobby, JJ at his side, his eyes find Garcia, furiously typing and wiping away tears as fast as she can. As his feet carry him to the desk, JJ breaks off to comfort Garcia.

“I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, and I’m here for Agent Y/L/N she should have arrived half an hour ago with two GSWs to the abdomen,” his voice is surprisingly collected, as the nurse looks up at him from her computer.

“She was rushed into emergency surgery almost as soon as she got here. I don’t have an update for you now, Agent Hotchner, and it could be awhile until I know something for sure,” the nurse replies with a sad smile.

With a curt nod, Aaron walks over to Garcia, who now has JJ’s hand firmly in her own. Upon seeing him, Garcia springs up and sets her laptop and JJ’s hand aside to instead throw her arms around her stoic Unit Chief. Stunned but not unwelcome, Hotch reaches around to hold the crying tech analyst. Pulling back from the embrace and sniffling, Garcia looks at Hotch and her eyes widen almost comically.

“Blood. Oh my God, blood,” she states in a hurried breath and it’s only then that Hotch realizes that his arms and torso are covered in your blood still; he hasn’t had a chance to wash it off. Looking down at himself, his vision blurs for a second and the weight of his appearance takes a toll. Stumbling to the bathroom as JJ and Garcia reach for him, he staggers through the door and to the closest sink before throwing up. Leaning heavily on his hands, he hangs his head and catches his breath before turning the tap on. Slowly, methodically, he cleans his hands, then up his arms. Splashing water on his face he looks in the mirror, noting the bags under his eyes, the way his hair sticks up on one side, and the dried blood on his black shirt as it catches the shitty fluorescent lighting.

You’re laughing at him and he can’t help but smile back at you. In the light of the restaurant he loves the way your eyes shine when you look at him. Something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye, but you’re still laughing and he loves the way you look when you laugh. Bang. There’s screaming. Bang. You slump in your chair across from him. His stomach drops and there’s a roaring sound in his ears and years of training take over. The unsub stands still, gun in hand, and Aaron moves. Takedown. Push the gun out of reach. Hold the guy down. Swift punch to the face and the guy is out. You make a sound—a whine? a scream? his name?—and Aaron turns. You. Hands on your stomach, but Aaron can see the blood seeping through your fingers. Gently, as gently as he can, he gets you to lie on the ground and uses his jacket to try and staunch some of the bleeding. Your eyes flutter and he calls your name, asks how you’re doing, something to keep you awake and talking and with him and—

A knock on the door draws him out of his mind and JJ pokes her head in.

“I found a sweatshirt in the back of the SUV and thought you might want to put it on instead of having to stay in your shirt since…” she trails off and gestures to his bloody clothes.

Wordlessly, Hotch takes the sweatshirt from her. It’s one of his, he knows that, but he can’t remember why it’s in the SUV, especially because he hasn’t seen it since—You. You had it last. Inhaling your scent off the piece of clothing almost shatters him again and he holds the sweatshirt to his face as he tries not to cry. Slipping into a stall he slowly undoes his shirt before crumpling it up and dropping it on the ground. Pulling the sweatshirt over his head, he takes a moment to collect himself before stooping down for his shirt and walking out the bathroom door back into the waiting area.

Sitting next to Garcia he can see that there’s a picture of the unsub on her screen, as well as general demographic information and stuff streaming past that’s too fast for him to read.

“Garcia, what have you found.” Business as usual. Except for the part where he doesn’t know how you are or if you’re alive.

“Well, Sir, the bastard who shot Y/N is Parker Harrison and from what I can tell, he’s a creep. Like look-through-your-windows-and-take-photos-while-you-change kind of creep so—“

“—so it’s weird that he came up to you two in a crowded room and shot Y/N when there is nothing that Garcia’s found to suggest that that’s even something Harrison would even consider,” JJ finishes while continuing to glare at the photo on the screen.

Hotch sighs and puts his head in his hands. Again. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he looks at JJ.

“Call the rest of the team and let them know that we know who the unsub is, but he doesn’t fit the profile for the crime and see if they’ve found anything out of the ordinary.”

With a nod, JJ moves to her feet and goes out the front door to make the call. Garcia makes a noise somewhere between frustration and surprise before renewing her furious typing. Aaron looks towards the nurse at the desk, the same one he had spoken to earlier, and catches her eye. She shakes her head and he tips his head back against the wall behind him, eyes closing.

---

You don’t think you’ve died. At least, not yet. Maybe this is some fucked up afterlife precursor, but you really, sincerely, hope you aren’t dead because that would suck for you and for Aaron. And Jack. And the team. Fuck you really hope you aren’t dead, but the fact that you can’t feel your body really isn’t helping you figure out what the hell is going on. There’s pressure building in your chest and as it expands, it feels like you are going to explode. You fight against whatever is happening—it hurts, dammit—and then back to nothingness.

---

He waits for hours. Pacing, sitting, standing, silent. Garcia mumbles to herself as she works, and calls the team with possible updates, but Aaron can’t bring himself to focus on anything but you. JJ comes and goes, standing, sitting, pacing, leaning over Garcia’s shoulder. She calls Will and the team a few times to give or get updates and for that, Aaron is grateful. He knows he should be doing more, as Unit Chief and as the person you told to get the unsub, but you you are his focus. He nods when Garcia shows him something and shakes his head when JJ appears with food and coffee. And he waits. At some point a police officer shows up and Hotch mechanically rattles off what happened. There isn’t much he can say since they have the shooter in custody already. Shortly thereafter, the rest of the team show up and all of a sudden Hotch is suffocated by the amount of people in the waiting room. Prentiss moves to JJ’s side and Morgan to Garcia’s, talking quietly. Reid and Rossi trade glances before descending on Hotch.

“Any news?” Rossi asks, but Hotch shakes his head.

“You guys find anything at the scene?” And Hotch is hoping for something anything to make this make sense.

“Well, according to the security cam footage, the unsub was dropped off at the restaurant and then walked inside, bypassing the hostess and making his way to your table. It seems like Harrison knew exactly where you were going to be and when, which is concerning. But after you take him down and he got to the station, he didn’t talk—and still hasn’t which indicates that he may be trying to protect someone which furthers the idea that he really didn’t come up with this on his own given that his previous criminal record didn’t indicate that he would shoot someone that he deemed a target, although Garcia is currently going through the contents of his electronics to see what she can find and—“ Reid is effectively cut off by Rossi, who states “and so we still don’t know enough about this guy to draw any concrete conclusions, but this isn’t an ordinary unsub and if he does have a partner, we need to figure out who that is before someone else gets hurt; possibly someone on this team.”

Aaron frowns to himself at this information. He thought that the team would be able to find something find more about Harrison, but it seems the universe is making him wait not only on you, but the fucker who shot you as well. Collapsing down on to the nearest chair, Aaron tries to come up with a plan, a preliminary profile, something that will help him figure out what exactly you’ve been drawn into. Staring down at his shoes, he fails to notice the way the team looks at each other, and then at him. With a sigh, Prentiss moves from JJ’s side to Hotch’s and sits. He doesn’t look at her, or even acknowledge her presence, but doesn’t shake off the hand that she lays gently on his shoulder as he continues to study his shoes.

It’s well into the early hours of the morning when the team is alerted to a development in your wellbeing by the loud squeak of the swinging door that leads to surgery. Half asleep, Rossi wakes the others from their various levels of slumber as Aaron stumbles to the doctor after he announces your name, eyes wide and hopeful.

“First, Agent Y/L/N is alive. She coded in surgery about two hours ago,” Aaron swears he stops breathing “—but we were able to revive her and finish stitching her up and repairing the internal damage. The bullets entered her abdomen and tore through her large intestine, and she did suffer more blood loss that I had hoped, but in time, she will recover.”

Aaron’s breath rushes out all at once and he almost collapses with the weight of his relief. He hears the gasps and murmurs of the team behind him which confirm their own happiness that you are alive.

“Can I see her?” the words leave him quickly, and he knows you won’t be awake, but he needs to see you. Needs to make sure you’re still here, with him.

“As you can imagine, she won’t be awake for quite some time. Her body has sustained major trauma, and we will be keeping her under watch for at least a week, depending on how long it takes her to wake up and then the rate at which her body’s healing process takes place. However, you may see her, one at a time, and are welcome to be here during official visiting hours tomorrow.”

Without turning to the team, Aaron nods and gestures for the doctor to lead the way, mind spinning with relief and worry, a dizzying rush of feelings at knowing that you’re alive. Stopping outside of a room, the doctor looks at Aaron before opening the door and stepping aside. Making his way to the side of your bed, Aaron can’t help but take stock of your appearance. Eyes tracing your face, fingers lightly following the same path before coming to hold your hand as he sits in the chair next to your bed. Exhaling slowly, he raises your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, eyes finding your sleeping face and finally, Aaron allows some tension to leave his body. You’re here you’re here and you’re alive and breathing.

---

Your return to actual conscious reality is slow, to say the least. The steady beeping of your heart monitor catches your attention first because it’s just so damn annoying. But hey, it means you’re alive—what a relief—so you really can’t find it in your hazy mind to care too much about the incessant beeping noise as you drift into consciousness. The next thing to draw your focus is the scratchiness of the sheets surrounding your body—are hospital sheets purposely so uncomfortable?—and the way that you can feel someone holding your hand. Aaron. Fighting to open your eyes damn those fluorescents you manage to squint your way awake. Well, as awake as one can be after what you just went through, but it’s an improvement to whatever semi-alive state you had been in even if you are still in a moderate amount of discomfort.

“…Sweetheart?” there he is. You squeeze his hand and turn to see him more fully, eyes raking over his face. Teary-eyed and smiling, you’ve never seen him look more handsome (okay besides when he was wearing his black button-down and black jacket at dinner before you got shot, but that’s obvious).

“Aaron,” his name leaves your lips on a breath and you smile back at him as he kisses your hand before leaning over and kissing your forehead.

“I was so worried, Y/N. So worried about you,” he continues down to your nose, your cheeks, and finally, finally, he presses his lips to yours. Hands intertwined with his other one coming to cup your face, you pull apart just enough to look each other in the eye. And to think you might not have survived to do this ever again. The thought is enough to bring tears to your eyes and as they fall down your cheeks, Aaron kisses your forehead again before leaning his head against yours.

“You’re okay, Sweetheart. You’re here, I’m here, the team is in the waiting room. We’re all okay,” he says gently, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You continue to cry, soft whimpers escaping you as the pain in your midsection sets in and you realize how much you could have lost if you died.

“Th’ team. Need t’see ‘em,” you mumble through your tears, and Aaron nods before reaching for his phone and texting someone, staying by your side the whole time. Your tears continue to fall, but Aaron’s presence and steady reassurance calms you and soon you’re just staring at each other, hands clasped, reveling in your closeness.

A nurse enters the room and checks your vitals on all the machines you’re connected to before remarking on how good it is to see you awake and then she’s gone; Aaron doesn’t leave your side.

A swift knock on the door turns your head, and a smile breaks across your face as the team shuffles into your room and gathers around your bed. You watch them as they come in, looking for injuries or something out of the ordinary. However, they’re all okay, looking at you with sad hopeful eyes, but they’re okay just like Aaron said.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, wide-eyed.

“We’re okay? Mama, we should be checking on you. You’re the one whose been unconscious for a day and a half,” Morgan chuckles.

“’M okay. Good. Great. Sp’tacular,” you assure them with a smirk and a wave at your general hospital-chic appearance. You don’t have to turn to Aaron to know he’s rolling his eyes as the others let out small laughs at your answer.

“Glad you’re awake, Y/N,” Rossi states with a smile as Reid nods behind him.

“We were worried,” JJ adds.

“Don’t you ever do that again! I mean it,” Garcia says, pointedly. You huff out a laugh and grimace as your abdomen twinges in pain. Note to self: don’t do that again. You catch the rest of the room in a collective wince out of the corner of your eye, but your focus is now on Aaron, as he leans impossibly closer to you, gauging your level of pain through his furrowed brow.

“We’ll be back later,” Emily suggests, laying one hand on JJ’s arm and another on Reid’s shoulder. “Get some rest, Y/N.”

“Will do,” you grit out, pain subsiding only slightly in your stomach. Your eyes shut and over the sound of your heavy breathing, you hear footsteps retreating and the closing of the door. Aaron’s hand brushes your hair back off your forehead and comes to rest on your cheek. With your eyes closed, you realize just how fucking tired you are now that you’ve confirmed everyone is fine with your own eyes. You squeeze Aaron’s hand, and as you give in to your exhaustion, you feel him kiss your knuckles with a sigh.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, and then you’re out.

---

You wake up to a hushed argument taking place between Morgan and Rossi at the foot of your bed and surprise surprise Aaron’s scowling at both of them.

Fighting through a yawn, you mumble, “G’morning, everyone,” pointedly glaring at Morgan and Rossi who at least have the decency to look sorry for disturbing you.

“Afternoon, princess,” Morgan says with a nod. “Nice to see you awake again.”

You roll your eyes and can’t help but notice the careful way Aaron’s watching your face for any signs of discomfort. Squeezing his hand—has he let go of it since he got here? A thought to pursue at a later time—you turn your attention back to the agents at the end of your bed.

“What have I missed?” Rossi looks at Aaron before taking a breath and facing you.

“We think the guy who shot you has a partner and we’re trying to figure out who it is.”

Well shit. Schooling your face into a somewhat neutral expression, you repeat “…a partner…?” and something akin to fear washes over you. There’s someone out there who wants you dead. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Steeling yourself, you look over at Aaron for confirmation and the hard look in his eyes is all you need. Fuck. Sinking further back into the pillows behind you, you stare at the ceiling and try to fully comprehend what you’ve just learned. Breathing deeply, you try and quell the panic that’s rising in your chest. Shit. Now what happens. Eyes clenched shut, you address the room.

“So, what now? There’s another guy so what do we have on him what do we know has the unsub said anything that might help us? Something? Phone calls at weird times, unusual credit card activity, change in schedule, unexplained absences from work, something has to stick out,” Your words rush out before you can stop them.

“Well—“ Morgan starts but you cut him off, rambling.

“—and what’s the name of the unsub anyway? What’s the name of the fucker who shot me two times?” you ask, eyes flying open at the realization that you only know him as “the unsub” and not his actual name.

“Parker Harrison,” Hotch states with enough contempt for you to stop and squint at him, worried.

“Sounds like an asshole,” you remark, but Hotch doesn’t smile like you thought he would.

It’s at this point that Morgan wisely makes some excuse about seeing if Garcia has found anything new and he herds Rossi out the door before the other man can protest. The click of the door behind them is deafening as you continue to watch Aaron’s face while he stares down at your joined hands on the bed. Tracing your knuckles, he doesn’t elaborate on the unsub and so you wait. You focus on your own breathing, Aaron’s hand in yours, and his presence next to you.

However, there’s only so much silence you can take when you have so many questions that you would like answered. Tugging on his hand, you wait for him to look up at you before speaking.

“Aaron, who is this guy?”

Silence.

You try again.

“Aaron, I can’t help you profile the partner if I don’t know who Harrison is. Let me help you catch this fucker,” and that catches his attention. With a small quirk of his lips, he exhales and leans closer to brush some hair out of your face.

“You shouldn’t be profiling or working at all, Y/N. You got shot. You need to rest,” he says as his hand settles on your cheek.

You snort and roll your eyes. As if.

“I can multi-task, love. Also, I need to work this case. Do you really think I’ll be able to rest and recover knowing there’s someone out there who wants me dead? Harrison is the first step to figuring this out and I can help, Hotch. I’m a profiler and he’s an unsub. This isn’t anything we haven’t faced before and we will catch him. So, once again, I’m asking you to let me help,” you implore. “I’m on bedrest, not dead. I can be semi-useful, even while lying in a hospital bed.”

With that, Hotch sucks in a quick breath and his eyebrows pull together.

“But you did die,” he says lowly. “You died you were dead. The doctor said you coded on the table. I could have lost you,” and with that last admission, his voice breaks. Bowing his head, the slight shake of his shoulders is the only sign you have to know that he’s crying. Crying over you. Oh, Aaron. Carefully sliding over in your bed—ouch—you pull on Aaron’s hand insistently.

“C’mere, love,” you whisper, and Aaron maneuvers his way on to the bed. Has he always been this tall or are hospital beds just smaller than normal ones?

Slowly, mindful of your injuries even in the midst of his own emotional turmoil, he curves himself around you as tears continue to fall. You lift your hand to card through his hair at a steady pace and eventually, just rest your hand on his face, catching tears and brushing them away. You raise your other hand, which is still holding his, to your lips and softly kiss his fingertips.

“I’m here. We’re here and we’re okay, and I love you,” you repeat gently until the shaking in his shoulders subsides and his breathing evens out to match yours. Holding your hand to his face, Hotch gives it the gentlest kiss imaginable before clearing his throat.

“I love you too, Sweetheart. So much. I was scared you weren’t going to make it, and then to find out you almost didn’t?” he trails off with a heavy sigh.

“It’ll take more than a few bullets to take me away from you, Aaron Hotchner,” you say. “I mean it.”

Instead of responding, Aaron nuzzles the top of your head and moves impossibly closer to you on the bed.

“I just—“ he stops. “I waited for hours to hear how you were doing. I was basically useless to the team because all I could think about was you and how you told me to get the guy and figure it out, but I couldn’t. Not without you.”

“Oh, Aaron,” you shift so you can smile at him warmly and then he’s leaning down to you, cradling your face, and kissing you with a desperation that makes your heart ache. You return his kiss with all the reassurance you can offer. I love you. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m sorry. Tilting your head, you move a hand to his chest, over his heart trying to do what you can to get closer to him. I love you I love you I love you. 

Breaking for air, Aaron presses one last lingering kiss to your forehead before settling back into your side. Heart racing, you smile contentedly at the man in front of you before trying to get comfortable. Leaning just a little too far forward, your breath leaves you in a whoosh before the pain sets in, letting you know you’ve overdone it just a bit—and just when things were getting good, too. Ever the protector, Hotch readjusts your pillows and presses the call button for the nurse as you let out a whimper. Soon enough, a nurse makes her way into the room and asks you how you are—brilliant—and what level your pain is at—an eight—before giving you a very welcome round of pain meds.

As your body relaxes and your mind starts to drift, you turn your gaze to Aaron, still by your side. He kisses your cheek and then your forehead softly as you close your eyes. Safe for now.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Bullets and Bubble Baths | Tony Stark

Hey lovelies here's the first drabble for my Dinner at Dizzy's event!! Thank you all so much for your requests!! Enjoy!

Appetizers (Tags): Fluff / Angst

Entres (Pairing): Tony x F!Reader (Third Person)

Sides (Prompts): 11: “Oh my god, that was really violent.”, 23: “I have to protect the one thing that I can’t live without. That’s you.”

Notes: Y/n is Tony’s assistant, Tony's hella protective because she’s not an Avenger

Word Count: 1.4k

Dinner at Dizzy's Master List

She’s in the bathroom.

No, scratch that, she’s in the bathroom, vanilla bubbles up to her chest, soaking in the warmest, lavender scented water— with her boss. He’s not in the tub with her or anything, god forbid, but he’s there, yelling, and waving his arms around like a madman. Oh, and there’s gunshots— don’t forget about the gunshots that’s the most important part here. Why did she take his offer of moving into the Avenger’s Tower again?

Oh right— convenience.

“Tony what the fuck is going on?” She shrieks, trying to pull more bubbles over her chest but only ends up splashing water all over the floor.

He spins from the door which he has just locked, eyes blown wide, and she almost screams again. “Hydra— I think. Some big guys with guns. Steve’s down there now with Banner—”

A loud crash echoes from several floors below as if on cue, followed by another round of shots, and her heart skyrockets. She sits up, arms crossing over her chest frantically, listening for any noises that may be closer— like in her apartment closer. So far there are none but with her luck that’ll probably change. She turns back to the man in front of her, shivering from the cold air and the fear coursing through her veins.

She doesn’t want to scream again but she can feel it bubbling in her throat so she does the only thing she can think to do— she rambles. “How’d they get in? What do they want? Do you think Steve and Banner are okay? What are you doing in—”

She only stops when he drops in front of her, hands shooting out and wrapping around the back of her head, fingers twisting harshly in the wet strands of her hair as he yanks her mouth to his. It isn’t a heated kiss— more of a shut up or we’re going to die kiss— but for a moment it makes the world still, her heartbeat spiking for a whole different reason now. Maybe it wasn’t just convenience, maybe there was another reason she moved.

Before she can move her lips against his, he's pulling away from her, brown eyes searching over her face, probably making sure she’s not about to combust into words again. Don’t worry Tony, she’s too busy combusting into literal flames.

“I don’t know, okay? Not yet. Wasn’t exactly the right time to ask.”

“Tony—” he raises a brow and she shuts her mouth— right, they’re supposed to be laying low.

She lowers her voice a few octaves, whispering, all too aware of the fact that his lips are still only inches away from hers and that she still can hear bullets dinging off something metallic. Steve’s shield. Bucky’s arm. She swallows, fingers digging into her cold, wet flesh.

“Shouldn’t you be helping them?” Please don’t leave though, she adds in her head.

She has no idea why she asks. Courtesy maybe. Nerves or anxiety or the fact that she’s naked in a gunfight and he kissed her and she doesn’t know what else she can possibly say in this situation to make it okay. Nothing. She can say nothing. She regrets it immediately.

“I—” the door explodes, splintering into a hundred tiny pieces before he can finish— or even start, to be honest— his thought.

Before the scream can even rip up her throat he’s on his feet, gold and scarlet armour curling around his body. She must have missed him hitting the button on his watch thingy. Who can blame her, what with the large man that barrels into the bathroom, gun in hand. Gun pointed at her. So it’s just a party in the bathroom now, that’s cool. He scowls at her and she freezes, too numb to feel either cold or hot at this point. What the fuck did she do? She’s just trying to take a bath!

Cue the scream.

“Oh my god Tony look out!”

The man charges at him just as his helmet clamps shut, a sharp clang sounding through the bathroom, presumably a bullet bouncing off his armor, and he wastes no time holding an arm out and hitting the man square in the chest with a blast of god only knows what. She’s an assistant, she doesn’t get paid to know how his suits run. Then again she didn’t think she was getting paid to sit in luxurious bathtubs and get shot at either so maybe she just has no true grasp on her job and what it entails.

She watches, unable to look away, as he blasts him a few more times. She can’t see the man— the fire beam thing blasted him way out of the room the first time. She doesn’t even want to know what state he must be in right now. Rest in pieces, she supposes. She doesn’t have that much sympathy for the man who tried to put a bullet in her skull and made her waste her expensive bubble bath. Asshole. Still, after the fifth blast or so she decides that maybe it’s time to step in.

“Tony?” It’s almost silent, her voice shakier than she’s expecting after all the screaming.

From outside of the bathroom she hears the sound of metal clinking together, no doubt his armor retreating back into wherever it is that it goes when he isn’t using it. Seconds later the man— her boss— is running back into the room, chucks slipping against the tile as his eyes draw over her body frantically. It’s what makes her realize she isn’t numb anymore, the heat creeping up and over her chest. She lifts her arms higher, not looking down because she knows the bubbles are long gone.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Shit, what’s going on—”

He’s on his knees again, arms reaching out towards her, and she can’t think straight, she can only feel the hot tears beginning to drip down her face. “I— I think so? I don’t think I got hit. Are you okay? You got hit by a bullet! I just— I— Oh my god, that was really violent!”

She’s malfunctioning. Like on the fritz, fingers twitching, voice absolutely gone. Is this how Vision feels all the time? God, she hopes not. That would be awful. She feels Tony’s arms wrapping around her and her head flopping onto his shoulder but none of it really registers. She could have died. What the hell is her job?

“You’re okay. I got you.” He whispers.

“I’m an assistant.” She mumbles weakly against his shirt. “This was not part of the job description.”

He goes to pull away and she tenses, terror spiking through her veins. No, do not let go. She can’t handle it, not right now. She tightens her fists around his shirt, trying to keep him from shuffling too far away.

He doesn’t let go— not completely at least. He only backs up enough to look into her eyes, wincing slightly when he does, brown eyes filling with guilt. “I know, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t blame you if you left right now.”

She sighs, her shoulders sinking. Her face feels sticky, her chest cold, but no part of her feels like leaving. She’s terrified, yes, and pissed off that her bath got ruined. Her heart feels like it’s trying to escape her chest and she kind of wants to throw up. It’s awful and she hates feeling this way. But this is her home and him—

“Tony why did you come find me?” She whispers, the thought suddenly hitting her square in the chest, knocking the air from her lungs— he came for her instead of fighting with the rest of the team.

He doesn’t hesitate in pulling her closer to him again, this time his head sinking against her neck. “I have to protect the one thing that I can’t live without. That’s you. I had to make sure you were safe.”

Well, maybe he’s her home too.

She wraps her wet arms around him, soaking his shirt and simultaneously squeezing her to him as hard as she can. “Thank you.”

He nods against her shoulder, lips pressing into her skin. She smiles— they’re definitely going to need to talk about this tomorrow.

For now, though, she sinks deeper into him, letting her eyes flutter closed. “You owe me a new bubble bath, boss.”

[a-detraque-barista]

Zombie Killer

Yandere Zombie Namjoon x Reader

Genre: yandere, gore, zombie, character deaths (but not graphic yet)

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: i love this man and i'm so glad i finally finished something with him in it. i hope this wasn't too rushed because i did write the majority of it back in 2019 but i hope you all enjoy nonetheless <3

It's been two years since the zombie apocalypse began. You've been on your own for exactly one year, seven months, and forty-nine days now. Wandering the world as you tried to find a safe haven that wasn't infected with undead cannibals. You don't hide behind doors very often anymore, you've learned it only makes you want to stay inside and rot while trembling in fear. You hated the way fear makes you so vulnerable. Adapting to the outside world was your only option before going insane. Carrying multiple weapons with you made you able to survive much longer than hiding in buildings.

People call you crazy and barbaric because you chose to survive by any means necessary. That's what your best friend had told you before getting bitten. And so, your survival of the fittest instinct kicked in once you shot your best friend in the face. Twice. Ever since then you've been wandering the streets of different cities. If you see a group of zombies then you stay clear. You were a badass zombie killing machine, but you knew when to pick your fights.

You had just sneaked off the ship you stowed away on for the past week. Immediately, you identified the native language here as Korean. Before the outbreak happened you had tried to learn the Korean language. You had only gotten so far in the lessons but you can still make sentences.

Sticking to the shadows you kept your guard up just in case anything tried to attack you. Overall, these streets were deserted and you didn't see or hear any sign of life or even the undead. You spotted a convenience store with the glass of the sliding doors broken. You had to at least look for food, so you headed inside after checking with your shotgun was loaded. You only had two more shells left so you needed to get rid of it now that its weight was holding you back. Stepping silently and diligently, you made your way to the dry food section. The shelves were almost completely bare. There were ramyeon packs left which you quickly put in your bag. You also found chips in another one of the aisles on the floor. You didn't bother looking for water, already knowing that it was long gone. What you did look for was tea. Not everyone knows that it's the second-best thing to drink when there's no water. And as you expected, there were tons of different flavored teas. Grabbing the peach, strawberry, green, and watermelon you made your way out of the store to see a group of masked people walking by.

They spotted you almost immediately as you froze and waited to see what they would do. Your thick black mask covered your face as much as theirs but they had hoods and hats covering their foreheads. No matter if you were a zombie or not most people tried to kill you. You had no idea why maybe it was just their need to be the last and the strongest kicking in.

Then all of a sudden there were five guns pointed at your head. See? All you did was stand there and apparently that's a threat. Pointing your gun at them would only make things worse given that you're outnumbered so you ran. Turning the corner once their guns began to fire, you ended up sprinting through the alleys. Always making sure you turned a corner every chance you got so you couldn't get shot.

You stopped to take a breath as you crouched down while panting. You had to leave your motorcycle behind so it had been a while since you’ve run that far. Hearing a crash further down the alley, you held your shotgun up trying to see what had made the sound. Nothing moved for a while so you slowly backed away and turned around quickly to run but all you found was one of the masked men from earlier.

“We need to go,” you spoke to the man quietly before another crash sounded from behind you. Trying to run past the man, he stopped you and pushed you back toward the alley. Holding his gun aimed at your head.

“Drop it,” you dropped your shotgun. “Walk,” he hissed and you turned back around to see a pair of ivory eyes staring at you.

How did you not notice them before? They stood out so vividly against the dark shadows of the alley. No doubt a zombie, but it wasn’t attacking. You felt the gun in the middle of your back push you towards the flesh-eating monster in front of you. In the blink of an eye, the ivory irises were no longer in front of you and the man behind you was screaming before having his jaw detached from his skull.

This zombie was like no other, it was quick, intelligent, and strong. Hearing the other men approaching, the zombie took your hand into its own and hurried deeper into the alley. Its skin was ice and calloused and bloody from tearing the man’s jaw out. It didn’t necessarily bother you as you were no stranger to blood now. But why was this zombie saving you? It’s not like you could ask, you didn’t know if it still understood speech. It never lets go of your hand until it finally leads you to an abandoned building hidden in plain sight. Leading you to the top floor, you saw a mattress on the ground with a pillow and blanket, a tv, empty plates, a mini-fridge, and even a microwave. It really was intelligent.

It took your arm to have you sit on the mattress as you got a better look at its face. It was...handsome. Even with grayish skin and a few holes. He was stunning. He chuckled after noticing your shell-shocked gaze at his appearance. You’ve never heard a zombie fucking chuckle.

He walked away to the mini-fridge and came back with a bottle of water for you. Now you really had some questions, but you didn’t want to seem rude about asking if he understood what you were saying.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” he smiled as he opened the water for you since you took too long. Pushing the bottle closer to you making you accept the water and taking a sip. “You probably haven’t had any water in while. Drink up.”

So you did. You chugged the whole bottle in under a minute as he watched you do so fondly. “What are you?” Okay, so maybe that was a little straightforward and harsh but you couldn’t help but wonder.

“A zombie, obviously. You probably mean why haven’t I eaten you. I can’t really answer that because I don’t know myself. It’s always been this way, ever since I got bitten I mean,” he explained as he stood up and made his way over to the tv to turn it on. “And if you’re wondering why I saved you, it’s because I know those guys can be dicks. They’ve been trying to kill me for months. Ever since they started that little murder group.”

“How did you know I needed help? Were you just passing through that alley?” you questioned while watching him sit back down next to you.

“I’ve been following you this whole time. I’m surprised you didn’t notice. I saw you get off the boat and followed you since then,” he explained like it was no big deal. “But it was a good thing I was there when I was. Otherwise, you’d probably be dead, or turned into a zombie.”

He was right. If it weren’t for him, you would either be eaten or left dead on the ground. Was that really an excuse for stalking you this whole time though?

“There’s no need to overthink it, just get some rest.”

Why was he so damn convincing? He was really nice though. “What’s your name?” you couldn’t stop the question from leaving your mouth in time.

“Namjoon. What’s yours?”

“Y/n.”

“What a wonderful name,” his smile caused his dimples to show making you look at the television.

The soft lull of the show made you tired and you could feel your eyelids getting heavier. Namjoon took note of it but said nothing as he wanted you to completely fall asleep. Seeing your head bob a few times he helped lay you down and covered you with the blanket. He set your bag on the floor along with all of your weapons from off your body.

“Sweet dreams, my little zombie killer,” Namjoon whispered as his attention turned back to the show on the screen.

You had woken up to the sound of a thud from outside of the door. You recognized the growling and screeching of a goddamn zombie. Patting your body down, you couldn’t feel any weapons. You looked around to find them next to you on the floor. You quickly picked up your pistol and stood by the door. Waiting for it to come through, once the door opened you shot it. The body fell to the floor only for you to realize it was Namjoon. The actual zombie laid torn apart on the floor behind him. There was no guarantee Namjoon would survive that but usually, you have to shoot them twice.

He didn't move for a while so you crouched down and poked his shoulder. You heard him groan before he propped himself up with his arms. His tainted, dark blood was pooling on the ground under him. He sat back on his heels and took a deep breath.

"Are-are you okay, Namjoon?" you stuttered as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

The next moment you were on your back with him laying on you. You froze, not knowing what he would do. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, "My name sounds nice when you say it."

You let a shaky breath you were holding before resting your free hand on his back. Feeling the blood seeping through your clothes, you tapped him to have him lift his head. Sure enough, your whole stomach was now covered in his almost black blood.

Namjoon lifted your shirt over your head and stood up to toss it into the corner. You quickly cross your arms over your chest to hide your embarrassing worn-out bra but Namjoon tried his best to pretend like he didn’t see anything. Helping you to stand, he brought you over to a large bucket of water and took a rag from it. He was on his knees as he wiped away all of his blood from your skin. He looked up to your cheeks that were a dark red hue and grinned.

“I didn’t expect you to shoot me in the head,” he was only teasing but he wanted to see your reaction.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and you allowed him to clean your stomach off longer than necessary.

“What was that?” Namjoon was having fun giving you a hard time while he finished cleaning up the blood before he gently wiped his face so he wouldn’t tear his dead skin, then he went to get you a clean shirt from the bag he had in the corner.

“You heard what I said,” you grumbled as you snatched the shirt away from him.

You weren’t really good at interacting with people. Through the whole zombie apocalypse thing, you had kind of thrown all of your social skills out the window. You didn’t mean to come off as rude to the one person helping you, but you couldn’t help but get flustered. It’s not like you were going to stay here for long anyway. You needed to get back on the road by tomorrow.

You then began to wonder how long he's been here. But you were also too afraid to ask. That would be being nosy right? You have no idea what he's been through and it might set him off, so you kept your thoughts to yourself.

You didn't have time to think about the handsome zombie in front of you. You needed to think about where to go next. Speaking of which, Namjoon had been watching your expressions, wondering what you were thinking about.

His partly deteriorated brain began to wander with questions about you. How long have you been alone? Where were you from? He knew you spoke English but that was no indicator of where you were from. Just look at him, he knew a few languages himself so he couldn’t exactly pinpoint where you would be from. Where were you going next? What were you looking for? Who were you looking for? Could it be a lover of yours?

He stopped. Why would he care if you had a significant other? He didn't. Right? Cause it doesn’t matter.

"So, I suppose I should get going," you walked over to your pile of weapons before strapping them and tucking them in their designated places. Since you had a little time to think now, it was decided that you should leave as soon as possible. Just thinking of spending another night in the same four walls terrified you.

“What if the group of masked killers is still around? You’ll need someone to show you the back routes,” Namjoon spoke quickly. He couldn’t understand why he needed to spend more time with you, but he just knew he feared you leaving him. Namjoon did his part in making sure you got somewhere safe off of the boat yesterday. He told himself he would have nothing else to do with you after that, humans never last long anymore.

“I mean...if you want to,” you weren’t going to force someone to venture with you out in the world during the apocalypse. Then again, he was a zombie and couldn’t be killed easily. He could prove to be useful on your trip for whatever distance he’s willing to go. It doesn’t seem like there’s much happening in this abandoned room of his.

All Namjoon did was nod and walk across the room to pack a bag. He decided that there was no way in hell he was going to let you wander around on your own. He doesn’t care how well you can take care of yourself. You needed protecting and that was exactly what he was going to do. He was able to take a shotgun to the head, he will risk his undead life for you.

Namjoon realized where his thoughts were going. Maybe this whole being undead thing was truly affecting his decision-making. He just met you yesterday and he’s willing to die for you? However, all those thoughts disappeared once he turned around and his eyes were set on you once again. As they always should be.

He will keep you safe.

Walking out of the building that Namjoon had been living in for over a year was easier than he thought would be. He heard the peaceful silence of the streets while walking beside you and realized he never took the time to breathe. Figuratively of course. Namjoon wasn’t used to the quiet as he would normally be chased or even in his room he would always have the television on as background noise. Something he felt was needed so he wouldn’t lose his sanity. He began to prefer the quiet more than a constant noise.

You did prefer the quiet, most of the time. There were times where you absolutely hated it. Hated it enough to want to take your knives and dig them into your eardrums so you would go deaf. That type of quiet was the type to have your ears ringing and your breathing sound like you were panting. Even making your heartbeat pound in your ears to attempt to drown out the unbearable silence.

The quiet you loved was broken when a zombie tripped over something metal. Without hesitating, you pulled out your gun and shot it in the head. Your aim has become exceptional since this all started. You slowly approached it and shot it in the head again. You’ve learned to make sure they’re done for by shooting them twice before they could recover.

Namjoon stood there, fascinated by how quickly you reacted. He barely had enough time to notice the zombie before you shot it. You were practically a zombie killing machine. But how many times have you had to fight off these flesh-eating corpses by yourself? God, all he wanted to do was to take all the bad from your life and leave only the good. He had been lonely and at first, scared. He could only imagine how you felt at the beginning of all of this and learning to survive through it. He truly wanted to help you. And he will.

✄ ✄ ✄

It took about an hour and a half to weave through the alleys and side streets to avoid the group that was hunting for any walking being that was and wasn’t minding their own business. Finally, the two of you were out of the city and you found an SUV in acceptable condition. You hot-wired it and waited until Namjoon climbed in to start driving down the deserted country road.

The absence of zombies had made it easy for you and Namjoon to get away. Somehow, one of the stations on the radio was working so that's what you opted to listen to for now. It was a song that sounded familiar but you couldn't remember where you had heard it. Namjoon had suddenly asked a question that caught you a little off guard.

"Do you like these guys?" his voice was even for the most part but it seemed he wanted a certain answer.

"I'm not sure who this is exactly. The song sounds familiar though," hopefully you gave the right response. If there was a way to trigger something in him to make him turn completely into a cannibalistic undead monster, you didn't want to find it.

“They’re - sorry, they were called BTS. Making their way to the top of the world,” you could hear the sadness in Namjoon’s voice that was no doubt about to crack from the strong emotion he was feeling.

“You were a part of that group, weren’t you?” you asked quietly as you kept your eyes on the road, occasionally glancing behind you in the review mirror.

Namjoon let out a small, saddened chuckle as he nodded, “Yeah, I was.”

You remembered watching them answer questions before one of the award ceremonies that your mother always insisted on watching. They seemed so close and genuinely nice even as they were asked dumb, demeaning inquiries.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing you could say.

“It’s okay, I know that the three who were able to escape are out there somewhere,” he sniffled, how that worked, you didn’t really know but ignored it as his words sunk in.

“May...I ask what happened?” hopefully you wouldn’t regret your words.

He let out a humorless laugh once again, “Long story short, we walked right into the lion’s den without knowing it. It was when the outbreak first began. Couple dozen of ‘em, easily, surrounded us, and while the three were able to escape...the other four of us weren’t so lucky.” He took a deep breath that wasn’t able to allow him the same stabilizing feeling as it once did, before continuing, “I was the only one who was still able to function as a normal human. Even though my heart was no longer beating and my lungs were longer deflating and inflating. The rest were just like the other mindless cannibals looking to eat people.”

You could see that he had tears in his fog-like eyes. Suddenly, you had a thought, “What if we went looking for the other three of your friends?”

The idea was bizarre even to you, but you won’t take it back. If there were more people out there, why wouldn’t you try to find them? You had no problem with joining other people, as long as they had no means of harming you or your newfound friend. Even if y

“You would do that? For us?”

“...Yes. Just tell me what kind of places they would go, and I’ll help you get there. To be with your friends once again,” you couldn’t save your family and friends but maybe you can help save his.

[rebelwrites]

A Fathers Love

Chibs Telford x Daughter Reader

He couldn’t believe it, today was the day his little girl got married. Sitting on the sofa he was deep in thought as the make up artist did what she needed to do.

“Da you still with us” you laughed looking at him through the mirror.

“Aye” he nodded pushing himself up to his feet “just thinking”

“You’re worried you are gonna lose me aren’t you” you said arching your eyebrow.

“Well yea kinda” he chuckled softly.

“I might be becoming a Teller today but deep down I will always be a Telford” you smiled slipping your hand into his “and I will always need my Da. That won’t change”

“I just can’t believe you are getting married today” he whispered tears filling his eyes “and who would have thought it would be to Jax”

Soon enough it was time to get your dress on so Chibs left the room to go have a smoke.

It was like the past 26 years flashed before his eyes.

After about half an hour you opened the door, creeping up behind you dad, tapping his shoulder.

His grin was wide and had tears in his eyes when he saw you.

“Lass you look so beautiful” he whispered kissing your cheek. “I am so proud of you, you managed to keep up with the club life whilst becoming an amazing women”

“Da please don’t make me cry” you smiled lighting your smoke.

“Have you got the reaper on your dress?” Chibs smirked

“Of course, got them to make one out of lace so it blends in” you grinned “the club is a big part of my life so it would be wrong not to have it. Also I want to show you something”

Reaching your hand to the neckline of you dress you rolled the top down just enough to show the black thread.

“Filip ‘Chibs’ Telford”

“You got my name stitched into your dress” he whispered.

“Yeah I did. Above my heart, I wouldn’t be who I am today if it wasn’t for you dad. You some how managed to raise me as a single parent whilst dealing with the club. I’d say that’s pretty amazing” you grinned.

“God I’m so emotional today” he laughed wiping his eyes before stepping forward to place a kiss on your forehead “I love you kid”

“I love you to Da”

“Now let’s go get you married” he grinned.

———

The service was beautiful, short and sweet just what both you and Jax wanted. Mainly so you had more time to party.

Chibs had just finished his speach spilling some embarrassing memories of both you and Jax. And it was now time for the father daughter dance.

Resting your head on his chest as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, as you swayed to the music.

“I lost my breath when I saw you take your first. My whole world stopped like that and I ain’t the crying type. I just saw your eyes words just can’t describe what I see. You look just like me, yeah”

“I still remember the first time I held you in my arms, watching your Y/E/C eyes staring up at me” Chibs whispered loud enough for you to hear “I think that was the first time I had ever cried”

“Da, Don’t make me cry you old bastard” you laughed looking up at him.

“You’re gonna think I hung the moon. You’re gonna think I made the sky. That the sun rises and sets inside of my eyes And it won’t be long ‘till I hear “Daddy’s home"”

“God I used to love coming home just to hear your footsteps on the wood floor screaming ‘daddy’s home’ no made what kind of day I had you always made it so much better” he smiled with tears in his eyes.

“It was the best part of my day as well, because it meant eating dinner in front of the TV and cuddles” you giggled.

“I hope I’m still your hero ‘cause I already love you more than even I understand”

“You will always be my hero da, no matter how old I get. You taught me right from wrong, how to shoot a fucking gun, how to ride, everything I know is because of you. I mean you even taught me how to make a body disappear” you laughed.

“Yeah probally wont win dad of the year for that one” he chuckled spinning you around.

“You have in my life” you smiled.

“And one day you’ll realize I’ve lost my cape, I can’t fly. And I’m only human. And you’ll need more than me”

“I will always need my Da by my side. Yes I have Jax now but he can never replace you” you whispered resting your head back on his chest.

The song came to a end and Chibs pulled you into a tight hug. Looking up at him it was obvious he had been crying through the song. Reaching up you wiped his tears away with you thumb.

“I will always love you daddy” you whispered “no matter how old I get, my love for you will never fade”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Jax appear smiling at the two of you.

“Chibs can I dance with my wife now” Jax chuckled placing his hand on the small of your back.

“She’s all your Jackie boy” Chibs nodded before kissing your head.

He took a couple of steps before spinning back around placing his hands on Jax’s shoulders.

“Just promise me one thing Jackie Boy, promise me you will take care of my little girl. Because if you don’t I will kill you” Chibs nodded before smiling at you both and heading to the bar.

-

“Babygirl you need to slow down” Jax chuckled wrapping his arms around you, placing his hand over you stomach “we both know you get clumsy when you rush and we can’t have you hurting peanut”

“But I’m excited” you whined.

“I know you are and I am to but I don’t want you hurting yourself” he whispered kissing your head. “Now slow it down”

“Or what” you giggled.

“Girl don’t, not when we are just about to head out” Jax groaned as you wiggled out of his arms, grabbing the bag that held the secret in.

After a quick drive you pulled into the lot of the clubhouse, gaining a few weird looks to why you was in the car and not on the bikes. Ever since you told Jax you was pregnant any where you both went he refused to take his bike.

“How you are going to keep this in until after dinner I have no idea” Jax laughed as he watched you bounce on the balls of your feet waiting for him. “Come on then you dork let’s go tell Chibs the good news”

Waking into the clubhouse, you had a grin plastered on your face.

“Dadddddy” you giggled

“Oh fuck” Chibs laughed engulfing you in his arms “this sounds fuckin’ expensive”

“I got you a present” you grinned.

“Since when did you by me stuff” he questioned taking the bag off you and sitting at the table.

“Just shut up and open it” you beamed leaning into Jax’s side, watching his reaction.

As Chibs pulled the small box out of the bag, he looked up at you arching his eyebrow. “Choose wisely? Something best not jump out at me” he chuckled slowly lifting the lid off the box. As he pulled each name card out he read it out loud.

“Papa, grandad, Pa, granda, gramps” he trailed off, eyes becoming wide, tears running down his cheeks and a wide grin on his face. “Princess, what is this?” He asked already working the answer out.

“I’m pregnant Da” you grinned.

“I’m gonna be a papa” he sobbed running his hand over his face before hugging you.

“I guess we know what name he picked” Jax laughed “Papa Chibs”

“I can’t believe my baby is having a baby” he sniffles wiping his eyes, placing his hand on your stomach.

— — —

You was now 6 months pregnant, and let’s just say protective was an understatement, not only did you have an over protective husband, who if it was up to him you’d be on bed rest wrapped in bubble wrap but your dad was just as bad if not worse. You had a prospect with you every minute of the day when Jax or your dad wasn’t with you. It amazes you that you even got to piss in peace.

“You are meant to do what we tell you yes?” You snapped as you paced the floor of the club.

“Yeah” the prospect mumbled.

“They why haven’t you got me my ice cream” you huffed.

“Kiddo your gonna wear a hole in the floor” dad laughed as he kissed your head “What’s up?”

“Dickhead won’t get me ice cream” you pouted. “And peanut really wants ice cream”

“Well it’s a good job I’m the best Da in the world and stopped by the shop on the way home then” he grinned pulling a tub of bubblegum ice cream out of the plastic bag.

Tearing the lid off, you dug your finger into the cold goodness, scooping some into your mouth. “I fucking love you” you mumbled with a mouth full of ice cream.

“I love you to kiddo” dad chuckled.

— — —

You was now 5 days overdue and wasn’t allowed to even leave the house, thanks to the prospects being on strict orders from Jax and Chibs.

You knew the guys had a busy day so prayed that the baby didn’t decide today was the day they wanted to make an appearance.

But it seemed like your prayers fell on deaf ears as you started to get twinges in your stomach, and soon enough your waters broke all over the kitchen floor.

“I don’t care what they are doing, you need to get Jax and my Da here now” you snapped “and we need to go to the hospital”

The guys had just got back from a quick run when Chibs got the text to say you had gone into labour.

Standing up from the table he took two steps before screaming.

“JAAAAAAAAAAX!!!”

Within seconds he skidded into the room.

“Yeah” he breathed.

“We gotta go boy, baby Teller is making an appearance” he grinned as he pretty much ran out to his bike.

Neither of them cared about following the speed limit they just needed to get to the hospital as fast as possible. Soon enough they had arrived and Jax stumbled into the room making you laugh at his dorkiness.

“I’m here baby” he whispered instantly coming to your side.

Seconds turned into minutes which turned into hours and baby Teller was being stubborn.

“I want my Da” you cried pushing through another contraction. Jax left your side for a couple of seconds to poke his head out the door to call Chibs in.

“Daddy I’m scared” you cried as another contraction hit. All your emotions were running high and Chibs knew that even though you was excited for this baby you was scared you was going to be a bad mother.

“Princess there’s no need to be scared” Chibs whispered kissing your head. “You have Jax, you have me and the club. You aren’t going to have to do this on your own. Now come on just breath, I want to meet my grandchild”

A couple more hours had passed and you was exhausted, but all that was forgotten when the tiny human was placed in your arms. His tiny blue eyes, which were identical to his father’s, staring up at you, watching every movement.

“He looks like you” you whispered leaning your head against Jax’s shoulder.

“Unlucky bastard” Dad laughed.

“You did great baby” Jax whispered kissing your head “he’s perfect”

“So have we got a name or did you give up and the poor lad is gonna be called peanut for the rest of his life” dad smirked walking over to Jax and pulling him into a hug, tears in both of their eyes, placing his hand on the back of Jax’s head he spoke softly “welcome to fatherhood son. Beannachd Dia dhuit”

“Papa Chibs” you grinned at you dad as you passed him your son “meet your first grandson, Jackson JR Filip Teller”

“Princess” he sniffed looking down at his grandson “I’m honoured to share my name with this little one”

[adhdeancas]

12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean

trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia. 

“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?” 

He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”

The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”

Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?” 

“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”

“John Winchester.”

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about. 

“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”

She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”

“33 years.” His voice cracks. 

Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname. 

“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

------------------------------------------------------

“How did he die?”

Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles. 

“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”

“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.

“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”

Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.

“And you’re… my daughter-”

Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom. 

-----------------------------------------------------

“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome. 

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”

“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”

He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing. 

“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”

 “Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.

He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying, 

“Hands, now,”

Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”

It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”

Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly. 

“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.

“Yeah.”

“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”

“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I’m an angel.”

“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary. 

“Come again?”

“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don’t have a harp.”

Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”

------------------------------------------------------

“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice. 

“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’

“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.

“Okay, what have you said to her?”

“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.” 

“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.

“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up. 

Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.

-------------------------------------------------------

They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”

Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.” 

Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex. 

“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.

“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude. 

Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”

Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”

Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”

That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”

Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously. 

“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.

“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”

“Was John okay with this?”

Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.

Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom. 

“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.

“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”

[amintyworld]

Child of The Dome (SBI Rust Server)

Platonic Wilbur Soot x Reader and Tommyinnit x Reader. We got Dadbur and Big Broinnit... It’s all about the found family, folks!

A/N: *Gets a SBI Rust fic idea* *Looks up to see its not written and no one is interested in writing it* *Realizing YOU’RE the one who can write it into existence* As a reminder, this is all RP - THE RUST SERVER HAS LORE, GUYS GALS AND NONBINARY PALS! Also, reader is gender neutral. Enjoy! - Minty

TW: Murder, Major Character Death (Kind of, they can respawn?), Religious Themes, Cult-like behavior, Kidnapping, Cannibalism, Cursing, child abuse (?), shooting/gun violence, sickness. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

--------------------------------

Thunder and lightning roared outside of the Dome Church as Wilbur and Tommy sat inside, continuing their sermon to a few others despite the weather conditions. Just a few hours earlier, Sofa had objected when the rain began to leak through the roof, and was promptly locked outside as punishment, which seemed to quickly quiet a few complaints from the others. “Now, my people, you shall not live in fear of the storm for the Dome will protect all who preach and live its word!” Wilbur said, standing at the podium. “Persevere and the Dome will reward you!”

Murmurs of agreement seemed to sweep through the crowd as their feet shivered - bare, wet and cold. They rose to their feet slowly as Iamty began to play the piano and they hummed along with the tune, their spirits beginning to be lifted. Water seeped into their clothes and chills ran down their spine but nonetheless they stood as Seepeekay, the known Minister, began his prepared speech over the music. Tommy walked through the aisle, holding out a basket for donations as the churchgoers threw whatever they could think to offer inside. 

Suddenly a loud knock came from the door - panicked and urgent.

Wilbur grumbled at the interruption, weaving his way through the crowd and opening the door. “Sofa, you have to relearn the Dome’s ways before you can-'' Words died on his lips as Sophie looked to Wilbur worried, a small bundle in her arms. The baby’s cries blended with the thunder and lightning from above, and Wilbur’s eyes scanned the child’s in curiosity.

“Wilbur, I found them outside near the Dome, they’re freezing cold I dunno what to-!” Wilbur’s mind whirred as it began to put the pieces together, frozen in place and not knowing exactly what to do next. Tommy rushed up next to Wilbur, asking what was going on until his gaze landed on the baby as well. “...Wilbur?”

At this, Wilbur’s body quickly snapped to attention, taking the child from Sophie and turning, closing the door shut behind him and keeping Sophie outside. The baby’s eyes glimmered in the light of the torches, their hair a matted and muddy mess padded flat in a circular shape - a dome like shape, if you will. Slowly, he raised his hand to caress the child’s cheek, a fondness beginning to grow in his heart as their cries slowed to a stop, looking up to him in wonder. A loving smile stretched across his face as he booped their nose, sending them into a fit of laughter. Wilbur’s heart couldn’t help but begin to melt at the baby’s smile. He held them close, his own body warmth beginning to warm their small freezing body.

“The storm! It’s stopping!” Pebble shouted as he looked outside, noticing the sun begin to poke through the clouds as the raindrops began to slow.

“Messiah, I believe I have witnessed a miracle today.” Wilbur called as everyone turned to look at him. “This child… this child has stopped the storm, they have stopped the storm for they are a child of the Dome itself. The Dome has spared us for helping one of its own.” Wilbur held up the baby for the congregation to see. “This baby is a miracle and a blessing, a gift of the Dome to us, a gift we must not take lightly.”

“What are we going to do with it?” Scott asked. “Can we- should we just... take them back to the Dome?”

Wilbur couldn’t help the pang of selfishness that came over him at the suggestion. “Take the child back? Slop, the great Dome does not make a mistake. It has given us great gifts and now it’s given us this baby, and you want to rid yourself of them? Shameful! We shall embrace this opportunity, this gift. We’ll make them part of our great family.” Wilbur said, going back to the podium and cradling the child close in his arms. “Since I found them, I’ll look after them.” He moved to press his forehead against the baby’s as the rest of the church looked on in interest. “I dub thee… Dirt.” Wilbur smiled as the congregation erupted in applause.

----------------------------------------

Tommy at first objected to adding another person in their already cramped house, but eventually, though he wouldn’t admit it, he became attached to the kid as the months passed. On a particular cold winter day, your crib was stationed by the fireplace, Wilbur out gathering food and supplies. Tommy had one mission and one mission only - to teach you your first swear.

“Come on, it’s not hard. Just say ‘fuck’. You can do it.” Tommy encouraged as you sat in your crib and looked at him, head tilted slightly in confusion. Your small hands reached out toward him.

“Twoh-towh!” You babbled with a smile, and Tommy’s heart melted at the nickname as he sighed fondly.

“Yeah, Tom-Tom.” He agreed, as you reached toward him, wanting to be let out as he carefully picked you up and held you in his arms. Your hands found their way into his hair as they pulled and played with it, squealing happily. “You really like my hair, don’t you?” He asked, amused until you pulled a bit too hard, making the teenager wince in pain, quickly bringing you back down to sit in his lap. “Okay, you played with my hair for a little while, can you say ‘fuck’ now?” You looked confused, moving to pick up a small pebble on the ground instead. “Dirt, I know you can do it, okay?” He moved you so you sat facing him again, and you huffed slightly at the loss of your pebble. “Say ‘fuck’. Like this: ‘ffff-uck’.” He said slower, as if that could possibly do anything to help. Your head tilted again, confused at why Tommy looked so disgruntled at his wasted efforts. He sighed in defeat, moving to put you back in your crib again.

Anger bubbled inside your chest - you didn’t want to be put back in the crib, you wanted to play. “F...FWOA!” You shouted, making Tommy’s eyes glimmer with hope.

“That’s closer, come on, you can do it, Dirt-!” He said, pausing and holding you in mid-air.

Beginning to put the pieces together, you realized that saying the word will keep you from being put back in the crib. Determined, your mind whirred as it looked to Tommy in curiosity. “Fwok…?”

“Almost there, you almost got it…” Tommy encouraged. “Say ‘fuck’.”

“Fffwok, Fuok… fuck!” You managed after a few tries, and Tommy’s eyes brightened with glee.

“Yes, Dirt. Fuck.”

“Fuck!” You repeated, smiling as Tommy once again smiled, bringing you back to the floor. “Fuck.”

The excitement of the exchange slowly made you grow tired as Tommy shifted, leaning against the wall as you began to drift off against his chest, a tiny fistful of his shirt in your hand. Snow began to fall outside, quickly turning into a snowstorm. Feeling tired and not wanting to disturb the sleeping being on his stomach, Tommy slowly began to drift off, leaning against the wall. Only an hour later Wilbur burst into the scene, firmly closing the door behind himself and carrying three large bundles of wood. He looked around, pulling off the scarf around his face and internally awwing at the sight - Big Brother Tommy, who would have thought? Tommy’s hands never moved from supporting you against his chest, worried about you falling over. Not wanting to disturb the siblings, he quietly shed his snow-covered gear, grabbing a blanket and pulling it up around Tommy’s sleeping form, ruffling his hair slightly and carefully talking you from Tommy’s grasp. Your Dad quickly settled you back in your crib, giving your forehead a soft kiss.

“Goodnight, you two.”

----------------------------------------

You slowly awoke in the warm arms of someone, outside in the snow, and your three-year-old body shivered. Where was Dad? Dad always was there, if not Tommy, so where was he? You looked up to see a hooded figure with jet black hair and blue eyes. Whoever it was, that was not Dad or Tom-Tom, and you began to cry, getting scared and wanting to see them again. Tears ran down your cheeks as the hooded teenager looked panicked. “Shh, shh… please, you’ve gotta be quiet-”

“WA-BA!” You cried, failing your body as you wailed, crying more. 

“Uh, I…” He said, not exactly knowing how to handle the situation. “It’s okay, it’s okay! I know Wilbur, I know your Dad, okay? I’m… I’m taking you right to him, just please stop crying…” He begged. Your body shivered as you sniffled, and let out a sneeze. “Dammit, I told you to stop crying…” He cursed, pulling you closer to his cloak to keep you warm. “Just hold tight, we’re almost there.”

“Wa-ba... “ You sniffed, and the teen’s face shifted into one of… guilt?

“Fucking christ Wilbur what are you doing with a kid-?!” He mumbled to himself, frustrated. “All I wanted to do was check inside and leave, but no.. of fucking course you have a kid-!” You quickly approached a large house of sorts as your captor took a deep breath in front of the door, looking down at you. “Hey, it’s okay. If it goes well, you won’t feel any pain.” He nervously smiled, before looking into your eyes as the smile quickly fell. “Don’t look at me like that, okay? It’s not exactly like I have much of a choice here. If I didn’t return with you, they’d…” He trailed off, before slightly shaking his head of thoughts, pushing the door open and stepping inside. After a few tries, he firmly pulled the door shut, carrying you closer inside and next to a small fireplace that dimly lit the room. “Guys, I’m back. I got the kid.”

Your eyes filled with fear as two figures seemingly appeared from the shadows, smiling and wide-eyed. You quickly drove your face to hide in your captor’s cloak. One with blonde hair and brown eyes reached out toward you slowly, making you retreat further into your captor’s cloaked embrace. “I can’t believe the rumors are true.” The other spoke - much shorter than the other two members, with brown hair and chocolate brown eyes, sporting a green poncho. “The famous ‘Child of the Dome’.” He turned to your cloaked captor. “Much trouble with the wall, Krinios?”

“No, that special ax you gave me worked like a charm,” Krinios replied. Your eyes were fixated on the shorter man’s, noticing how similar to Tommy he looked - they were probably the same age - but something wasn’t right with his eyes. They looked cold and inviting, the light went from where it once had brought warmth and life to the teen - different from the curious scheming brightness of Tommy’s, or how your Dad’s eyes seemed to fill with laughter and love all the time. You didn’t like any of this one bit, you wanted to be back home in Wilbur’s embrace as he’d hum a lullaby, rocking you back and forth to get you to sleep. Not in this room filled with hungry stares and eyes locked onto your body like a wolf’s.

“Come on, little one… I just want to play a game.” The blond one ushered, and you shook your head ‘no’ violently, clinging onto Krinios’s arm tightly, not daring to let go.

“What’s… what’s going on here?” The shorter one asked, gesturing to the scene. “Did they imprint on you or something?”

“Look - I dunno Tubbo,” Krinios admitted, holding up his hands in a sort of surrender. “Maybe they got sick in the cold, they were crying a lot.”

“And you didn’t stuff a sock in their mouth?” The blonde one’s eyes stared down at Krinios’s intently. “I told you we needed the little shit quiet, what if someone heard you?!”

“It’s a baby, Hycei!” Krinios snapped, and Hycei’s mouth turned into a thin line.

“Good god, you feel sympathetic for it…” The blonde groaned before snatching you up forcefully as you let out a wail, grabbing for Krinios desperately. “This is the only way to send a clear message to that freak of a cult that calls itself a church, not to mention Wilbur. We show them what happens when they decide to fuck with us. If we don’t get even now they’ll just keep thinking they can get away with doing whatever they want to us because we won’t fight back.”

“It’s an eye for an eye, Krinios - for all the times they’ve killed us, taken our stuff… they’re bullies, Krinios. Bullies that won’t stop unless we fight back, and Fort Kickass isn’t cowards. Sometimes when you’re the bad guy, Krinios, the only way to fight fire is with fire. Besides,” Tubbo asked, his lips curling in a smile as he unsheathed his knife. “You wanted to try flesh right off the bone, right?” As Tubbo came toward you, you squirmed and tried to wail before Hycei clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your sound.

“Wait… wait wait wait!” Krinios snapped to action as he thickly swallowed, getting between you and the knife. “What if the kid’s so sick, it affects the flesh? What if we get sick from it?” Tubbo’s cold eyes shifted from his friend’s to the knife in his hand. “I think we should just give it a day or two, you know… maybe this one isn’t the one to try out the new style of flesh thing. Maybe we shouldn’t change perfection, you know what I’m saying?”

“We’ve eaten rotten flesh, I think we’ll be immune to whatever they might have.” Tubbo responded, rolling his eyes. “Don’t forget that those Dome People killed you in cold blood.”

“Aren’t we doing the same thing?” He asked, as the other two’s faces filled with irritation, getting annoyed.

“We’re surviving, Krinios. If you haven’t noticed because of our ‘reputation’ on this server I haven’t eaten in days. I’m hungry.” Hycei said coldly. “Now isn’t the time to be taking the moral high road - do you want to not starve to death?!”

As Krinios hesitated, Tubbo shoved him aside as he approached. “We don’t have time for this.” He huffed, pulling your arm roughly and looking to Hycei. “Hold ‘em still.” You became hysterical, tears flowing freely down your face in panic and wanting to be as far away from that sharp object as possible. As it pressed down and began to cut you let out a shriek in agony as blood and pain overwhelmed your senses, and you bit down on Hycei’s hand, making them retract it and nearly drop you in the process.

He looked pissed. “Why you little-!” Within seconds, pain once again blossomed in your head, your vision swimming with tears. You wanted Dad, you wanted Tom-Tom, you wanted the pain to go away… Whimpering in pain, you curled in on yourself. Your prayers seemed to be quickly answered as the door burst open with two very ticked-off family members you recognized instantly. Wilbur pointed his gun directly at Tubbo’s head as the room began to build with tension, the two leaders just staring at each other. 

“Wilbur.” Tubbo said cooly, putting his bloodied knife back in its sheath.

“Tubbo.” Wilbur growled through his teeth. “Where are they? Where’s Dirt?!”

“Oh, is that what you decided to call them?” Tubbo asked, crossing his arms. “Or did your Dome God decide on it?”

“You’ve crossed the fucking line, Tubbo.” Tommy growled, his ax at the ready. “Dirt didn’t do jack shit to you.”

“Oh, I disagree.” Tubbo spat. “Being a part of your sick cult is enough for me. Even so, you can’t blame a leader trying to feed his people, can you? That’s all this is - survival of the fittest. Getting revenge on both of you, well… that’s just a bonus.”

“You’re a sick freak.” 

“You’re a scamming cultist.” Tubbo retorted, moving to take you from Hycei’s arms. “Question is, who’s worse?”

“Wa-Ba…” You sniffled as Wilbur moved closer, before Tubbo quickly pressed his knife up against your throat.

“Not another step.” Seeing this, Tubbo pointed his gun at Tubbo’s head, though the cannibal leader seemed unphased. “Kill me and I’ll kill them as soon as the bullet leaves the muzzle.”

“Bulllshit.” Tommy angrily shouted, moving forward next to Wil.

“Do you really want to take that risk?”

Wilbur breathed as his mind whirred to try to think of some kind of solution, his gun trained on Tubbo. “Tommy, get ready.”

“What’s it gonna be, Wilbur Soot?”

Quickly, he shot Tubbo in the leg, making him fall and lose his grip on you as Tommy rushed forward, snatching you up and kicking Tubbo in the face as he tried to grab you back. Hycei, on the other hand, rushed toward Wilbur, as the two fought and eventually Wilbur shot him in the arm, then quickly turned to train his gun at Krinios who held up his hands in surrender. When Tommy saw your injuries it broke his heart as he ripped off a bit of cloth and wrapped it around your arm wound temporarily, wrapping your body in warm blankets. He dried your tears as he rushed back towards Wilbur. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

“You got what you wanted, just leave.” Krinios begged as Wilbur’s gun stayed trained on him. Wilbur, keeping his eyes on the man in front of him, handed the gun to Tommy as Tommy handed you off to your Dad, who carefully ran his hand through your hair, bringing you close and not planning on letting you out of his arms any time soon. 

“You scared me, oh god I thought I lost you…” Wilbur whispered. “It’s okay, it’s all okay now, I’m right here, I’m right here. Shh…” Your hands gripped his shirt and you buried your face in it, feeling comforted by his familiar scent of pine and burnt oak. Your body shook with fear as Wilbur ran his hand along your back in comfort as he turned toward the door. His gentle voice turned cold as he looked toward Tommy, his gun still trained on Krinios. Anger and sadness overwhelmed his heart as he looked upon the one who took you away from him, who tried to take you to your death. Vengeance never tasted so sweet. “Kill him.”

Krinios’s eyes widened. “Wait, wait wait let’s talk about this-!”

Tommy didn’t hesitate as Krinios’s body slumped to the floor as the two made their way back toward the entrance of Fort Kickass. Tubbo sat against the wall, breathing heavily from the pain, glaring at both of them. “This isn’t over.”

“You said you wanted to feed your people, I believe I just provided you with food.” Wilbur shot behind him as he walked toward the entrance. “As for Dirt, if you so much as lay a finger on them I won’t hesitate to take all of you out for good. I wonder who will revive you then.” His eyes glanced over the cannibal leader, making sure Tubbo knew he wasn’t bluffing. “Goodbye, Tubbo.”

[softcallofdutyimagines]

Can I get some Naga slight angst/fluff? Maybe an enemy group took the s/o and Naga has to negotiate getting them back (like $12 million) and daddy gets them back because “$12 million is a cheap price to get you back” idk I’m in love with how you write for the cod operators ❤️

Need this 😌💖💖💖💖 I turned it into a whole little fic, so I hope that's ok! This got pretty heavy, ngl, but I think it turned out sweet, so I hope you enjoy!!

Reader Pronouns: she/her

Warning: strong language and some pretty disrespectful language towards women, including implied physical violence if you squint, so be careful while reading guys!!!

Naga clears the trinkets and fine antiques off his desk with a full sweep of rage. A vase shatters and a small, crystal idol chips, but all he sees is short, typed ransom note before him.

A rival gang managed to snatch you up in the streets not two days ago. He's been worried sick ever since you didn't come home that evening, and even now it hasn't abated by much. No, instead an anger just as intense as the worry and fear rises to join the others. His entire being trembles almost imperceptibly as he reads the details of the letter.

They want 100 billion kip in gold. He has three days to bring it to the drop point in exchange for you. No guns or weapons on him or his men.

He slams a fist on the desk and collapses his head into his hands. Naga clenches a fistful of hair in one hand and swipes the note out of his sight with the other. He weighs his options only to realize...

Well, he doesn't really have any, does he?

He's very familiar with this group. They're ruthless cutthroats and, if he's being honest, he wouldn't out it past them to have killed you already and be stringing him along right now. In fact, as much we it makes him sick to say so, he almost hopes they've killed you.

It would be a much better fate then what they usually do to their victims.

Even three days is far too long to be in their captivity. God, just the thought of their hands on you... He shrieks in rage, wishing there was something else in his vacinity that he could destroy. But he knows that wouldn't help.

No, the only thing that would help him right now is having you back.

Kapano calla in his right hand man and throws the crumpled up letter to him. "Get the money", he growls.

The other man opens up the paper and reads the sum. His eyes go wide and before he can even suggest that he might protest this plan, a stiletto knife buries itself in the wood beside his head.

"I said get the fucking money!", he screams, eyes wide, teeth bared, and every muscle within him bristling. The second in command bows his head quickly and dashes off before something far worse is thrown his way.

Naga swears and applies some pressure to his forehead. It feels like his skull is about to split.

He spares a glance outside, then trudges to his room. Your, room. The sun hangs low in the sky and he has yet even more to do tomorrow. One piece at a time, he sheds his combat attire, nursing a headache all the while.

On a normal night, you offer to help him out of all the buckles and straps, and oh what he'd give to take you up on that offer now. At last he unclasps his jewelry down to one final necklace. This is a recent one, a locket you gave him with a tiny picture of the two of you inside. He loved it so much, he's since had it encrusted with a ruby heart and wears it daily.

At the memory of you, suddenly he feels unable to part with it, not even for just a night's sleep. He takes it off reverently and clasps it tightly in his hand. Poping open the little door, he fixates on your lovely face as he trudges to bed.

Naga crawls into his side, distracted for a long moment by the perfectly undisturbed second half of the bed. He knows how much you hate a cold bed. On any other night he'd lay in your spot for you until you join him, just to warm up the sheets for you.

He places the locket on your pillow, a shakiness starting to overtake him as he wonders if he'll ever have the chance to warm your sheets and share a bed with you again. At last he lays his head down, and yet he's unable to take his eyes off your half.

Even still, your pillow smells like oils and creams he bought you for your hair. He suspends his hand just over the pillow a moment, thinking of you. And when he lets it drop, he can't tell if it's the cause or the result of the tears flowing from him.

He can't fucking stand it anymore.

Kapano pulls your pillow close to him, holding it tight as he would you. At least tonight he'll have the comforting scent of you as he suffers another fitful night.

The following days up to the trade are slow and painful. Every night is worse then the last as he consumes himself with the stress and worry surrounding you.

He can't get to the drop point fast enough. In compliance with the ransom note, he and his men are unarmed. So they wait. And wait. And wait....

And just as he's ready to pull his hair out, a truck slowly rolls up the abandoned dirt road.

A small squad of men hop out and approach Naga and his gang. Then, bringing up the rear, the boss shoves you along, a gun pressed snug against your head.

"What the fuck is this? You said no guns!"

The rival boss spits, as though Naga's mere presence leaves a foul taste in his mouth. "What? You think I don't know about them?", he nods his head up.

Far, far in the branches, hidden from view at this angle, more of Naga's men wait in the tree canopy, armed and ready for any sign of foul play.

Damn it.

Naga glances over at you. You're looking pale and rather bruised and beaten. A far cry from the carefree, sun kissed goddess he usually knows.

"Alright, there's the fucking money, now give her to me!"

The other man clicks his tongue and presses his pistol against your temple, "Wait until we're loaded up first, then you can have your precious whore back"

Naga seethes at that, but is afraid to make a sudden movement last he lose you for good. And the rival boss notices. He smirks, a gratingly patronizing tone to his voice "Oh, I'm sorry? Did I insult your little harlot? We both know that's all she is...", He leans in far to close and licks your neck slowly, teasingly, before nipping your earlobe, "Isn't that right, bitch?"

This has gone on long enough. Naga's body quivers with boiling rage as his temper shoots through the ceiling. He shouts a command in his native tongue and a hail of bullets rain down on the opposing gang, the first several of which bury themselves in the man holding you hostage.

Behind him, Naga's men on the ground unsheathe small throwing knives and daggers, taking advantage of the surprise gunfire to press the attack.

But, at the death of their leader, the remaining crew scatters like flies and before long, all is quiet.

Kapano rushes forward to pick you up off the ground. He kneels down and cradles you in his arms as he removes your blindfold and cuts your hands free. Your tears carve small rivers through the dried blood running down your cheeks. You try to speak, but all that you can manage is a choked gasp.

He's never seen you like this before. And he never wants to again.

Naga shushes you, holding you against his chest while he strokes your hair. "Shhh, he's never going to touch you again. I promise", he kisses your forehead and helps you slowly to your feet, "Now let's get you out of here baby"

You don't say a word the whole ride back, but Naga holds your hand and rubs your back all the while. When you get home, he sets up a bath for you with all the salts and fragrances he knows you love. He offers you some help, but you say you'd like some time alone.

Somewhat reluctantly, he respects your wishes and sets off to make a meal and some tea for you both. It's all set up on the mat and pillows adorning the main hall. You look lovely as ever in your silk pajamas and lacy robe when you join him after your bath.

Slowly, you find your voice to speak, but it feels as though your mere presence is enough to earn you the praise Naga is showering you in. He's so focused on you, he nearly forgets to eat.

Once you're all finished, he decides to leave the dishes for later, and instead he pulls you onto his chest as you both recline into the fortress of pillows supporting you. Naga nuzzles your hair and kisses your temple.

You smell like jasmine and fresh citrus, infinitely better then the stench of stale sweat and musk of other men that he received you in.

He kisses your face gently, rubbing some warmth into your shoulders. You enjoy the quiet, but a small sniffing sound interrupts you.

"...Kapano?"

He sniffs again, wiping his eyes with his free hand. "Sorry, I just... God, I-I thought I'd never see you again", tears stream down cheeks, he rests his forehead against the side of yours.

You sigh, wishing you could just forget it all, "I know how you feel"

At that he tenses, and a quiet growl escapes your little tiger, "It'll never happen again, I swear it. I wish I could've pulled the trigger on the bastard myself... He deserved worse then what he got. Far worse"

You press a kiss to the broad tip of his nose and smile softly, "I love you, little dragon"

For the first time since he lost you, all those days ago, he smiles. He's not a big fan of when you first gave him that nickname. He hates to be described as "little", it's not very intimidating. But... Suddenly, it sounds quite endearing.

He kisses your perfumed lips, stroking a thumb over your battered cheek. "I know", he smiles. That night, you sleep out amongst the pillows, right where you are.

Tomorrow night, he'll be looking forward to warming up your side of the bed for you.

[drcalmreid]

friends - s.r. (pt. 2/2)

pairing: spencer reid x female reader

summary: pure angst -  friends with benefits always ends up with one person scorn out of jealousy...and in this case, it’s spencer. especially when he sees you flirting with one of his BAU partners. (pt. 2/2)

content warning: consumption of alcohol, indication of sex (no smut!), mention of narcotics/psychological disorders

word count: 5.1k // part one

authors notes: yall know the drill….lyrics = indicate a flashback!! Make sure you read part 1 first! :)

YOUR POV

“JJ, will you get a look at these two…I don’t know which one I’m in love with more.” Penelope squeals, bouncing back and forth on her neon pink heels. I roll my eyes and give her a playful shove, but continue dancing near Luke. Luke smiles his model-status grin and moves to the music pulsing through the bar.

“Jesus, Pen! How much have you drank?” JJ smiles as she reaches the dancefloor yet again. I look over JJ’s shoulder to see Reid, blank stare locked on the dance floor, his fingers swirling around in the condensation on the table. Spencer blinks quickly as our eyes meet and he shakes his head, looking down again at the table.

“How much I have drank is irrelevant,” Penelope yells over the music and takes another sip from her half-filled drink, most of which has ended up on the dance floor.

“I think it's pretty relevant,” Emily chuckles, as Tara smiles in agreeance.

“I mean, c’mon! Look at them!” She raises a finger at Alvez and I, but I shake my head at her attempts to play cupid. I spin to face Luke and pull him closer to me, “Wanna give her a show?” He tilts his head, processing my words as I smile at him.

“(y/n),” Luke grins. “I’m extremely uncoordinated. I’m barely dancing as is.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” I say, wrapping my arm around him. The alcohol in my system, anger, confusion, and overall emotions combine and push my confidence to an absurd level. I feel as if I’m watching myself from the outside as I dance with Luke. He throws his head back in a smooth laugh as I spin against him. I move my hips steadily and lead Luke’s hands around my waist; I rest my head on his chest as our bodies sync to one another.

“Oh my god, they’re really going for it.” Tara gawks through laughs and Emily throws invisible dollars in our direction. Penelope fans herself as if it will cool her down as JJ raises her eyebrows and chews on the end of her straw, casually trying to look over her shoulder at our table, but I know she’s watching Spencer. I just can’t let him in, I can’t. I did that once and I ruined everything. I still don’t even know how, but I did. So if I keep dancing, keep drinking, keep moving, I won’t be able to stop and think. And rethink. And think again and again, replaying every memory of the time I spent with Spencer. My hazey eyes lift from the grimy club floor just in time to see Spencer bolt up from the booth and out the bar doors.  

All of your friends have been here for too long

They must be waiting for you to move on

“I love you,” the words slip out of my mouth like silk and I shoot my eyes open in the dark hotel room. Fuck. My sleep deprivation and mental exhaustion have made me become a love-struck puddle in his arms. “Spencer,” I whisper among the darkness, but there’s no answer. Thank God. Of course I love Spencer. I always have. The last four months have been some of the best of my life, but we both agreed that we wouldn’t place pressure on ourselves and keep everything private...but private means bottled up, and my bottle’s full. Hell, it’s overflowing. We’ve spent endless nights together, limbs tangled together, Spencer’s finger combing through my hair, or my hands running through his curls as he lays on my chest, his fingers tracing my sides. Tonight, Spencer breathes heavily beside me as sleep consumes him. More times than not Spencer falls asleep before I do, and I can’t help but think he’s able to because we’re together and finally comfortable and peaceful after the most physically and mentally draining days. Spencer releases a long breath and squeezes me tighter, as if I’m going to slip out of his grip and he’ll never hold me like this again.

-

The morning comes sooner than I’d hoped as I open my eyes to an empty bed and bright sun rays pouring through the cheap hotel curtains. I rub my face with my palm as my words come back to me. They echo in my head, bouncing off the inside of my skull...I love you, I love you, I love you. I realize now that I said it because I truly do love him, but admitting that to myself (let alone Spencer) complicates our non-relationship relationship even more than I thought possible. So, instead I shake my limbs and stand from the bed, shoving the memory of last night into a new bottle of emotions. “Spence?” I call out into the room, but there’s only silence on the other end. I walk in and out of the bathroom to no sign of the Doctor before I spot the hotel notepad on the side table. “Went in early to see if I could get some more files from the local PD, trying a new perspective. Didn’t want to wake you. -Dr. Spencer Reid”. I put down the cheap notepad and chuckle at his signature, even signing a note for his friend is formal and properly scripted...typical. I pull on my usual clothes for a long day of profiling and step out into the hotel hallway.

“Morning,” a voice chirps from behind me.

“Jesus! Luke!” I say startled and swat his chest. “Scared the shit out of me. You’re lucky I didn’t pull my gun on you.”

“Eh,” he pulls on the strap of his bag as we walk towards the elevators. “I would have been fine.”

“Oh your ego is that big that you think you’d survive a shot to the chest?”

“No no no, I didn’t say that,” he smiles as the elevator doors slide open. “I just know you’re an awful shot.”

“Oh fuck you,” I chuckle and slap his arm. He grins at me with a cocky look but doesn’t say anything else. The elevator glides downstairs and opens again in the lobby. The two of us climb into the BAU’s black SUV and head back to the local offices for the rest of our long day.

-

Once we arrive, I spot Spencer instantly as he sits cross legged on a wide wooden folding table. Files and folders are scattered across all parts of the floor as well as his lap as he stares ahead at the whiteboard in front of him. He glances down a few times, scanning over the pages he has, but turns his head in our direction as soon as Luke and I approach the room.

“After you,” Luke winks as he holds the door open for me. I roll my eyes at him but walk through the door into the glass-walled conference room. “What? No, thank you?”

“Nope,” I say as I sit down at the table, opening up my bag. “Not after you insulted me this morning.”

Spencer sits up straighter as if his body involuntarily responded to my words.

“(Y/n), I would never insult you,” Luke says as he takes the chair next to me. “I like you too much.”

Spencer clears his throat and keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead, but I know he’s listening.

“Besides,” Luke leans down to whisper in my ear. “It’s a lot more fun to mess with you.”

“I’m going to get a coffee, you guys want anything?” Spencer says abruptly and hops off the edge of the table, but he’s out the door before we can even answer.

“Morning to you too,” I comment as the door slams closed.

[Boy], I'm not with it I'm way too far gone

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

“Spence?” I choke out as I watch him lean against the brick wall. His tie is mangled in his hands as his chest rises and falls quicker than normal. “Are you okay? I saw you run out, I-”

“I’m fine, (y/n).” He spits back at me.

“Are you sure?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Alright, well if you’re fine, then I’ll leave you,”

“Do you like him?...Luke. Do you like Luke?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean- it seems like you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, you- you just were dancing and-”

“Oh my god. You’re jealous. Spencer, seriously?”

“I’m sorry that I can’t see you with other guys, it’s not fair for me to watch that. I can’t, (y/n).”

“Well...that’s not really my problem is it? You told me to, let’s see...how did you put it?” I glance up at the sky as if I’m trying to remember the exact words he used, but it’s all for show. I’ll never forget his words. They’re branded into me like a filthy scar on my heart. So I swallow my pride and turn the words right back at him, “ ‘Get over my feelings because we’re not together’? I believe that’s what you said.”

“(y/n), I-”

“Spencer, please just don’t say anything else. You’ve said enough. Just so we’re clear. None of this is fair, and I can dance with whoever I want.”

I step inside the bar yet again and practically sprint back to the group, desperately searching for the team. Luke spots me first and rushes towards me.

“Hey, hey,” he grabs both of my arms and squats down to get to my eyeline as I stare down at the floor. I try my best to push back the tears building up, but they’re becoming too much. “Are you okay?”

“I have to get out of here.”

“What did he say to you?” Luke gently asks.

“Nothing,” I mumble and wipe my eye with the back of my hand. “I just, I just need to go.”

“Okay,” he rubs my arms. “Let’s get you out of here.”

The next thing I know, I’m placed inside Luke’s car as he clips my seatbelt and I stare straight ahead, completely numb from everything. Tears continue to roll down my cheeks as Luke drives in silence. He coughs for a split second before turning to look at me, “I was going to drop you off at home, but I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“What do you mean like this?” I bite back and wipe my eyes with the edges of my fingers. “Shit, sorry Luke, I didn’t mean that.” I laugh and look at my mascara covered hands. “Obviously you meant like this,” I say gesturing towards my awful appearance. Luke chuckles lightly and glances over at me quickly before fixing his eyes back to the road.

“C’mon let’s go to my place first and then I’ll drop you off later.”

Normally I respond with some sarcastic comment and insist on going home, but honestly I’m too drained to even fight. So I nod slowly and stare out the window watching the passing cars.

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

The elevator door chimes and opens itself into the BAU offices. We all step out of the elevator calling out goodbyes for the night. Spencer heads towards his desk, as I follow closely behind. Ever since Luke and I came into the local PD offices two days ago, he’s been different. Spencer stayed in his own room our last night at the hotel, claiming he “fell asleep reading” but I know he was lying. Quickly, I pack my things into my go bag and get ready to leave, my own bed calling my name. I glance around and spot my teammates scattered across the bullpen: Penelope back in her bat-cave, Luke’s got his head down in a stack of files, Tara and JJ headed directly out the door headed home, Emily climbing the stairs to her office with Rossi shortly behind.

I inch closer to Spencer’s desk casually and lean against it to whisper to him, “hey”

“Hi.” He responds, keeping his eyes down on the book in front of him. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of the damn thing since we got on the plane. He was so enchanted by this book that he sat down opposite to me on the plane, rather than side-by-side. He just seems so….off. I can’t figure out what it is exactly, but he’s not the same. All our small gestures are gone—and I don’t want to overreact because it’s only been two days, but Spencer isn’t like this.

“Did you want to grab dinner? I’m starving,” I smile, trying my best to lighten the mood.

“Not hungry,” he coolly responds, with his head still down.

“Well, I am...so you—”

“So go get dinner, (y/n). Seems like a pretty simple answer.”

“I was waiting for you,” I say and he rolls his eyes, but doesn’t respond. I stand next to his desk awkwardly for a moment before Luke breaks my attention away. He shuffles all his things into his bag and slings it over his shoulder, “g’night guys.”

“Night, Luke,” I smile and he exits the office. Spencer releases a stifled groan and tries to cover it with a cough.

“What was that for?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. Spencer finally looks up from his book and shrugs. “Spencer, what?” I ask again and he frowns slightly, turning back down to his pages again. I shake my head at him and grab my bag from the edge of his desk and pull it over my shoulder.

“Goodnight, Spencer.” I say calmly and walk past his desk but he doesn’t respond, again. I can’t help myself and I actually chuckle at him, “seriously? You’re ignoring me now? What did I do? Did I do something?”

“Nope,” he sternly answers.

“Then why wont you talk to me?”

“We’re talking now,” he says, looking up from his desk. Our eyes meet and lock on one another. Neither of us break away from the stare as the tension rises between us.

“That’s not what I meant,” I whisper through gritted teeth. He shrugs again, his eyes unwavering from mine.

“Spencer, what the hell has gotten into you? You barely talked to me the rest of the case and on the jet. We usually talk after rough cases like this to check on each other.”

“Well I’m not your boyfriend, you made that abundantly clear, so I don't really need to keep tabs on you, do I?” Spencer snaps, standing up from his desk chair.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, shaking my head.

“Nothing- I just, we can’t do this anymore,” he rubs his face with his hands and gathers his books off the desk. He walks away from his desk, leaving me standing there stunned. He leaves the bullpen and presses the door to the elevator. The doors slide open and he steps inside. Without a second thought, I run through the office and into the elevator just in time.

“(Y/n), please.” He sighs, while pressing the down button.

“Spencer, just talk to me—”

“(Y/n), we can’t do this anymore because I don’t have feelings for you.”

“What? No—” I shake my head in complete shock and denial. I feel tears forming in my eyes, but I push them away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“We’re not on the same page….and I can’t control how you feel but, you need to get over your feelings because we’re not together. This doesn’t work between us, (y/n). Let it go,” Spencer says looking straight ahead as the doors slide open again and he exits through them.

All of your friends have been here for too long

They must be waiting for you to move on

[Boy], I'm not with it I'm way too far gone

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

“Luke, I’m not telling you what he said!” I protest, sitting cross legged on his couch. I throw a piece of popcorn into my mouth and then toss another in Luke’s direction.

“C’mon (y/n),” he sighs, stretching out his legs across my lap on the couch. “You and I both know how stubborn I am. I’m not giving up, what did Reid say? Do I need to kick his ass?”

“You, Luke Alvez, are the worst,” I laugh at him. “But, I’ll tell you because...well I’m still a little drunk so what the hell.” I sigh and tell him about everything. The details and stories pour out of me as Luke rests his head on his palm watching me talk. He doesn’t say anything, just listens.

“So,” I take a deep breath. “Now you’re caught up. God….Penelope’s gonna kill me when she finds out you know about Reid and I before her.”

He smiles and sits up on the couch, “listen (y/n), I know he’s a textbook genius, but Reid is an idiot. If he doesn’t realize how perfect the two of you are together and how much he loves you then any statistic he knows is useless. You’re too good, for him to be acting like this.”

“Wow,” I grin at him and give him a playful shove. “Look who’s getting sentimental!”

“Alright, forget I said it!” Luke stands up from the couch, throwing his hands up in defeat.

-

“Morning sleepy head,” Luke says, passing me a premade smoothie.

“Shit,” I sit up from the couch and blink my eyes harshly. “I can’t believe I slept here. Sorry, I’m the worst-”

“Hey,” Luke cuts me off. “Stop doing that. You’re fine. I was going to offer you the bed anyway, but you passed out before the movie ended.”

“Thank you, I mean seriously. All jokes aside,” I stand from the couch. “I’m glad you were there.”

“Me too,” he smiles. “Look, I’m not kicking you out either, but do you need a ride home?”

“Shit,” I shake my head. “Penelope and Emily drove me. My keys are at the BAU.”

“So we’ll stop there first.” He grabs his keys off the entrance table.

“Seriously, Luke,” I reach out and hug him around the waist. “Thank you.”

-

“So you and Reid…” Luke turns into the BAU parking garage. I shush him and he laughs lightly. “Four months?”

“Four months.” I nod while giving a weak smile.

“And you loved him?” He asks quietly, as if not to scare me.

“Yeah,” I turn to look at him. “I thought I did, but I don’t- I don’t know anymore.” Luke nods again as he pulls into his assigned spot. I open the car door and step on the pavement. The garage is empty besides a few chief cars and our footsteps echo off the walls. It’s a Saturday morning and no one dares to come into the offices unless directly called to...even the FBI needs a weekend sometimes. We walk quietly together through the empty lot and into the section of the building where our offices are located. Luke and I scan our badges and follow the normal protocol just to get inside.

“You really didn’t have to come with me.” I say to Luke as we climb the stairs. “I do work here, I think I would have been okay.”

“And missed you hungover trying to walk up these stairs? No way,” he smirks and continues up the steps. The rest of the time we climb up the stairs I focus solely on trying my best not to think about how awful I feel — both mentally and physically.  My head is spinning from the combination of last night's drinks and Spencer. Fuck, I miss him. Luke snaps me out of my own head when he opens the stairwell door, “You ever think you’re going to talk to him again?”

“I mean we work together-”

“No no,” he laughs. “I meant talk to him, yknow,” Luke raises his eyebrows suggestively with a smirk.

“Why do I tell you things?”

“Because you love me,” Luke sings as he opens the door to our bullpen and we walk through it. I turn back to him and shove his arms.

“Luke, if you don’t stop,” I say as we enter the BAU. I scan the empty desks looking for mine when my eyes rest on a slumped over figure on the desk...not just the desk, but Spencer’s desk. “Oh my god, Spence.”

Heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved

Running in circles, now look what you've done

Give you my word as you take it and run

“Oh my god Spence,” the words tumble out of my mouth before I even realize I’m talking. Spencer turns to face me as I begin talking and his eyes shift between Luke and I. Spencer takes a deep breath in and spins around again in his chair, his back facing us. I clear my throat and scan the room for my keys, and there they sit on the edge of my desk across from Spencer. I shake my head at him and Luke lends down, “you sure you’re gonna be okay?” I smile and give him a weak nod, and Luke responds, “I’ll leave you two.”

“Thanks for everything,” I whisper to him and Spencer’s shoulders tense. Luke leaves the office through the glass doors and silence settles between Spencer and I. I sigh gently and make my way across the room to my desk. Spencer keeps his head down in some files as I reach my desk and grab my keys.

“Walk of shame?” Spencer mumbles, still looking down.

“What did you just say?” I ask feeling the anger build in me.

“I mean,” he snickers. He turns a pen over between his fingers, moving the pen back and forth. “That’s what you’re doing right?”

“You’re ridiculous,” I huff and grab my keys from the table top. Don’t give in to him. I remind myself as I close my eyes and take a deep breath before headed towards the doors. “Have a nice weekend, Spencer.”

“You’re just going to ignore me?” Spencer spins in his chair.

“Easier than having this conversation,” I snap at him.

“So you’re just leaving?” He asks, standing up from the desk.

“No,” I retort. “That’s your job. I’m just going home.”

“Home? Or Luke’s home?” He tilts his head to the side and crosses his arms.

“Are you fucking kidding me…” I shake my head and step away from the doors, getting closer to him. “I didn’t sleep with Luke.” Spencer blinks slowly and swallows hard, but I continue, “and even if I did, why the hell does it matter? We’re not together, so who cares, right?” I practically laugh and cross my arms over my chest. Spencer leans back as if my words physically hit him in the chest. I turn around again, focused on the exit and getting the hell out of here.

“I do.”

“Yeah? And why do you care?” I yell, whipping around to face him.

Spencer runs his hands through his hair and screams, “Because I’m falling in love with you and I can’t stop it!”

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

SPENCERS POV

Love is never what you picture it to be. It’s messy, unpredictable, and hurts like hell. “We accept the love we think we deserve,” Stephen Chbosky once said...and I wish I did not agree with it. The exact moment I realized I was in love with (y/n) took me by surprise, I didn’t even realize what it was at first. I just always believed I wasn’t deserving of love—and no matter where I found it, ultimately it would all be a taunt before I was stripped of it. I realized I loved her on a flight home from a case in Dallas. The unsub was a young male with psychological disorders who was regularly using different narcotics to subdue his victims. Everyone on the case was hyper-sensitive of my relation to the case—Emily even offered for me to stay back home, but against my better judgement I got on the plane. Eventually, the case came to a close fairly quickly (as most do), but not without constant questions and repeated: “you okay?”’s from the rest of my team. Of course I wasn’t okay. (Y/n) and I followed our same routine as we always have for cases; I sneak into her room or she sneaks into mine, we bring each other food and coffee, steal longing glances at one another during profiles. and are just there for the other person. She didn’t ask or pry into my past about my emotions, she just listens to what I have to say and nods along calmly. She even reaches for my leg and hand under the table during a deep discussion of dilaudid, but her eyes never strayed from her papers or whoever was talking. She didn’t want to draw attention to me, but also didn’t want me forgotten. She made me feel normal. Unbroken. Deserving of love. On the flight home she sat down next to me and didn’t ask the baseless question, “are you okay?” instead she just said: “I’m so proud of you.” My heart nearly fell out of my chest when she said it. I didn’t realize the effect she had or the gravity of her words until she said them. I love her. When we finally landed back home, I wanted nothing more than to go to bed holding her and tell her I’m going to protect her from the world and it’s cruel intentions. But I couldn’t. Everything I’ve loved always leaves me, and I can’t let it be real because real means vulnerable. The following days pass by as if in slow motion, but also at the speed of light. Each one not just building up my love for (y/n), but also the walls around my heart. It feels as though I blink and we’re back on the jet for another case. Blink. The team is meeting with the local PD. Blink. We’re in the field with a new victim. Blink. (Y/n) and I are back in our hotel room as she mumbles, “I love you.” Blink. I lose my mind and lose her at the same time. Blink. We’re no longer friends. Blink. She’s moved on and onto Luke. Blink.  I’m screaming my confession of love at her as if we’re in a Shakespearon play. Blink.

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

YOUR POV

“What did you just say?” I ask as my heart rate skyrockets. Spencer stays near his desk, his face showing he’s just as shocked as I am. His gigantic brain must be a complete mess right now. “Spencer, what did—”

“You know what I said,” he takes a deep breath in. “I love you.”

“But—” I choke out.

“I know. I know,” he rubs his face. “I know I told you I didn’t have feelings for you, but I lied.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying now because you’re jealous?” I ask, filled with rage. He shakes his head vigorously and steps closer to me, closing the gap between us. This is the closest he’s been to me in forever. I want to just reach out and melt into him, but I fight back the urge.

“I’m not lying,” he clasps his hands together. I raise my eyebrows and my eyes twitch. “I really do love you.” He reaches out to touch my arm and I step back. I can’t let him in again. At least not this easily. “(Y/n).” He croaks, his voice breaking.

“Do you think I’m that stupid? That I’ve just waited for you to come crawling back?” I ask, my tears stinging my eyes as they roll down my cheeks.

“No, no. Never, I- I never thought that. Ever,” Spencer rushes out.

“Then what is this?” I shake my head, “Because I feel so fucking stupid, Spencer. You left me. You told me you never felt the way I did, and I loved you-”

“I know you did,” he says smoothly. His words stun me, he knew? I step even further back, and I want to keep going and going until I’m out the door. “I heard you, that night in the hotel. When you told me you loved me.” Tears continue to move down my face as his words sink in.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, wiping my face. Spencer steps closer to me, but I don’t move back.

“Because I was scared!” Spencer cries out. “When you said it, I- I felt it of course I did, but I was terrified. When you said you loved me and I knew I loved you...it all became real. Too real,” he sighs. “Everyone that I love, everything I love leaves me. I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“But pushed me away, Spencer.” I shake my head as he steps even closer.

“I know, I screwed up. So badly, (y/n). I’m so sorry,” he reaches out to touch my arms and instead of turning around, I lean into his touch. “If I could go back to that night, I would pull you closer and tell you then, but I can’t. So, I’m telling you now. I love you.” Instead of answering him, I just collapse into his arms completely exhausted. The back and forth, the drinking, the bottling of emotions, the confusion, everything...it’s too much and everything explodes at once. Spencer’s arms wrap around me and holds me up from melting into the floor. He wraps his arms so tightly around my torso and cradles the back of my head with his hands. My hands wrap around him and pull him closer than ever, I take a deep breath in and truly take him in. He’s here. I can’t lose him again.

“(Y/n),” Spencer coos, rubbing my head. I’ve missed him more than anything I’ve ever known.

“I do love you,” I sob and feel Spencer’s heart literally skip a beat. “I always have.”

“You do?” He pulls me away from his chest to look into my eyes. “I didn’t mess this up entirely? I didn’t lose you?” I shake my head no and lift my hands up from his chest and onto the sides of his face. He looks down at me with the kindest eyes. My heart sings and I stand up on my toes, pressing my lips to his. Spencer’s mouth molds into mine perfectly as if we never let one another. His hands squeeze my sides gently and Spencer pulls away smiling. I stroke my thumb across his cheek, whipping away one of his tears. 

“You could never lose me, Spencer.”  

—

yay! this is finally up!! took me longer than I wanted, but school work got in the way :/ anyway, hope you enjoyed!

masterlist // requests

stay safe & wear a mask!! -m

tags: @rexorangecouny