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erwinsvow · 7 months

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𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐬

summary: aaron hotchner is a lot of things. in love with you is one that you never saw coming.

word count: 7.1k

author's note: bau!reader + hotch is my favorite combo ever. i haven't written and posted in, like, two years so please be nice :) i've written so many other versions of hotch but this one just wrote itself. inspired by the amazing @luveline and so many breathtaking hotch stories and isabel (alisdas on ao3, not on here anymore i think :( ) who wrote of terrible coffee and late-night rides which i think started all of this and my immense aaron brain rot when i read that fic, like, three years ago. enjoy!

This was wrong, Aaron thought to himself. He seldom committed acts that others might say were wrong, or argue they could potentially be wrong, but this was different. Aaron felt wrong, a feeling he was not used to.

“I’m worried about you, that’s all,” you had said quietly on the jet early one morning. You two were sitting across from each other on the flight back from the team’s latest solved case, an excruciating long ride home from the coast of Oregon.

Your book laid open on your lap, unread and a bookmark tucked between the earlier pages. The spine was cracked, like you’d read it a hundred times before. He knew that wasn’t true though, it was just a used novel probably from the thrift store around the corner of your apartment.

You had told him once, back when you first started—back when he was still married and you were less affected by this job—that you liked finding used (pre-loved, you call it) books and picking the most worn out ones to take home. You said it means that someone used to love this book.

It felt wrong because you were too young for him, and too innocent to be mixed up in his life. What could you know about his thoughts? About the love of his life that divorced him and his son he only sees once in a while.

The rest of the team makes jokes with you, in particular JJ and Penelope. He’s even heard Emily pitch in, about your not-so-secret fondness for your boss. For him.

Back when you had first started, it was nothing. Passing glances, working extra hard to please him and earn his praise—which was never given out generously. He hadn’t even taken the time to notice, never paid more attention than any other member of the team. What he did notice was your work ethic.

Being among the youngest of the team had instilled a drive in you to prove your worth. You always stayed an hour extra, came early, and spent nights working the case even when you were yawning every few minutes. The most attention he’d given you back then was commenting that you’d had a good insight into the unsub, commending you on well-written reports and briefs, and offering you a cup of coffee when it was just you and him left in the sheriff’s office. He’d be rereading seemingly endless pages of the case reports and you’d be diving headfirst into the victim’s lives.

Your specialty was always understanding why the victims did what they did, figuring out their routines and ascertaining important details from their personal belongings. He was used to you flicking through diaries and boxes of mementos that were once treasured by another young girl, not so much older than yourself.

He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought it was impacting you—reading through the journals of dead women who had been very similar to yourself, with similar hopes and dreams. It was depressing, he knew, and yet if you were bothered by it, you didn’t show it in the slightest. At least not to him.

And back then, he’d never notice the sweet smile that always graced your face when he was asking you if you’d like coffee. You’d shake your head no, and take sips of water between your yawns. You didn’t even tell him that you don’t drink coffee until a few months later, after he asked if you’d ever like a cup when he offered. He can remember it clearly even now.

“Actually, Hotch, I don’t drink coffee.” Your cheeks were tinged with color like you were embarrassed to even be admitting this to him.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? I would have stopped asking three months ago.” If he sounded stern, he didn't mean to. The burning on your face deepened.

“I didn’t want to be rude. I drink tea though, but I didn’t think to mention it. It’s not as easy to make.”

“Well, let me know if you need a cup of hot water then.”

You had smiled at that, and he had turned around to take another picture on the bulletin board. He smiled a little too.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said, maybe a little too gruffly. He didn’t mean it, again, but it just came out that way. He thinks some part of him is trying to warn you to stay away before you get too close.

“We’re all worried. You went through something really big and didn’t tell any of us and even if you don’t care about us like that, I care about you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Aaron’s gaze casts around the rest of the jet. Derek has his headphones in, staring out the window and trying to resist sleep. JJ and Emily are playing cards—they should be sleeping, but they had a little too much espresso a few hours before. They’re too far away to hear you and Aaron speaking, but he notices JJ’s eyes darting over every once in a while. Spence is asleep, and he realizes that’s why it’s so quiet. Dave is reading a book, too, but he’ll stop and interject into JJ and Emily’s conversation.

He looks back at you, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in a warm, boxy pullover from your alma mater. He thinks a little bit too much about you these days, and he can’t get it to stop. He shouldn’t profile anyone on the team, they have a strict moratorium on that, but especially not you.

You, who never fails to try to make anyone feel better when they’re down. You, who doesn’t make it seem like you’re analyzing their behavior, but rather observing and offering comfort in hard times. You remember everything the team tells you about their likes and dislikes, never forgetting a birthday or special occasion. He can distinctly recall fresh chocolate chip cookies on Derek’s birthday, carrot cake from the Italian bakery Rossi loves to celebrate when his latest book became a bestseller, and a new knick knack for Penelope’s office after a particularly brutal case.

You say it’s all in passing, but he knows it’s not. You’re trying your hardest to keep the team together in the little ways, strengthening bonds that extend beyond coworkers. You want to fit in and be accepted, and you worry so much that you won’t. This is your way of trying to show that you’re a part of this team too, not just the new girl and one of the young ones.

Aaron blinks twice. You’re looking at him expectantly, and he wishes you wouldn’t. All he’ll do is disappoint you.

“You don’t need to worry,” he repeats. “I’ll be fine.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say that. Why is it so bad for us to worry about you?” You look like you’re starting to get upset—it hurts Aaron more than he realized it would. It’s not bad for the others to worry, it’s bad for you. If you get attached, if he lets this get unprofessional, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself. Hurting himself is one thing; hurting you is another entirely.

“Let it go, Agent. Try to get some rest.” He looks out the window. He can see the sun coming up, and realizes he hasn’t slept since the night before last. He still needs to drive home—not really home, he remembers sadly, his empty apartment— and work on reports before he can even see Jack. He doesn’t think resting now is a good idea, and yet his body is so tired.

When he looks back, you’re reading your book again but your eyes are really paying attention to the words on the page. You’re just skimming, and blinking rapidly, and he realizes then he’s made you tear up.

His phone goes off—Haley, and he feels guilt building up in his chest, almost overwhelming him. He steps away to answer and talks quietly. He doesn’t want you to overhear and worry even more. When he comes back to his seat, you’ve fallen asleep. He takes the book from your hands gently and puts the bookmark in, closing it and resting it on the seat beside you. He watches you sleep and wonders if he’s making a mistake trying to hide from you. He thinks, and not for the first time, that you see right through him.

The plane lands an hour and a half later, and everyone is beyond exhausted. Even Spencer, who normally doesn’t need much energy or caffeine to start talking fast about something interesting he noticed about this case and this unsub, is unusually quiet. They’re all running on fumes, staying up two nights in a row profiling and then catching the unsub with the latest victim at one in the morning, and then boarding the jet soon after.

Aaron makes a decision, everyone can work on their notes from home and the report is due no later than day after next. Derek pats him on the shoulder and says no one is to call him for the next twenty-four hours. JJ and Emily exchange a laugh. Y

ou, he notices, though he wishes he wouldn’t, go up to Spencer and talk with him quietly. When you’re done, he beams at you and you at him. He wonders what you two talked about when they’re all heading out, listening to Spencer ramble about how the unsub’s use of his childhood spots as disposal sites offers insight into the abuse of his youth. Prentiss tells him to save it for the report.

He and Rossi are walking back to their cars when Dave speaks up for the first time.

“You’re wondering what she said to him, aren’t you?”

Aaron stops for a moment.

“You should know better than to profile me.”

“Oh, I’m not profiling. This is just me being observant. You should stop fiddling with your ring finger when you talk to her. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“Dave, I don’t need to tell you that this conversation—“

“I know, I know. I won’t mention it again if you don’t want me to.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron. And by the way, she offered to write his notes for him if he wanted. He said it’s hard for him to write about unsubs with schizophrenic tendencies and she said she can try to help, if he wants. That’s all. Let me know when you’re ready to talk about this.”

Aaron gets in his car and doesn’t stop thinking about you the entire ride home.

You wish you could make it stop. The way you feel about your boss. It started so long ago, it’s almost a part of you now. Aaron is stern and his disposition is frightening, to the say the least. But only at first, you’ve realized, after so many late evenings spent discussing the case with him, breaking down the tiniest details, and him paying attention to your every word when you discuss the victim’s demeanor and behavior to try to figure out what had really happened.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you thought. You had gone to the overpopulated state school with the hopes of entering the medical field. You were a true empath, and there was no one’s suffering you couldn’t relate to, no one that you wouldn’t try to make feel better. All your life, people cried on your shoulder while you offered up words of comfort. And because of this, everyone thought you were a shoo-in for nursing or medical school, where you could help people through the worst days of their life.

All it took was a few days at the hospital where you had been working, a string of murder victims being wheeled in one after another, for you to reconsider your life’s work. None had survived the incident, but the killer let them live just long enough to be seen by the doctor, who then had to declare them legally dead.

Something about the victims seemed familiar to you, how they’d all come from wealthy families and were sliced up in their expensive clothing, expensive jewelry and watches smashed to bits instead of being stolen. You mentioned it to one of the officiers, who told someone else, and somewhere in that chain of events, your insight helped them catch the killer.

It was then, you thought, that maybe you should be working on the other side of these situations. Stopping the killer before it ever got to this.

Then you’d done a one-hundred and eighty degree spin on your career, electing to pursue becoming an agent. You had been young, and motivated, and you chose to overlook when everyone told you this job might become your whole life, leaving no time for a husband and kids and a family.

You had ignored it all, working your way up from the local field office to child crimes in just a year and a half. The transition out of sex crimes to homicide was disturbingly hard, because at least before you’d had a victim to interview. You were no expert, not yet, but a unique asset altogether, combining a true mission to uncover the best in each victim, and figuring out their behavior patterns from bedrooms and diaries.

It was a unique skill-set, acquired mostly because a lot of traumatized children didn’t offer much to go off of. You had to turn to their childhood homes, toys, and scribbles to figure out what had been going on in the first place.

You reflect often on why you decided to leave child homicide when news spread that the BAU had an opening for one more agent. Truthfully, you hadn’t considered it at all, since you were more than happy with your current position and coworkers. You were solving cases, delivering justice, and bringing whatever comfort you could bring to grieving families.

In fact, you had been requested specifically. You, out of a hundred or more well-established, intelligent agents that could be a huge asset to the team. You were never special, and you didn’t like to think of yourself in that way either, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to hear that the team wanted you.

And when you transferred over, everyone was so nice. The team was inviting, they respected your opinion, and especially in cases with younger victims, they revered your knowledge. You felt included, and invaluable, and as hard as you worked, you wanted to work even harder.

Your boss was a brilliant agent and profiler, and so hardworking that you wanted to do anything you could to make his workload a little easier. You wrote the most detailed reports, so he would have to edit them as much.. You offered to pick up extra briefs, so he took home a couple less papers. And no matter what you did, acknowledged or not, you knew you were making the kind of difference you’d always dreamed you would.

Aaron—he was only ever Aaron in your head, and Hotch the rest of the time—liked you as an agent, and it made you happy. A little happier than you should be, considering he was happily married with a toddler and a perfect life outside of work. It was almost wrong, but it didn’t stop you from trying to impress him with your work ethic.

You always put aside your other feelings and focused on the team, and somehow in all of that, you felt like you were finally making your difference. You were close with the team and close enough with Aaron, that you hadn’t been worried to start that conversation on the jet now that all these circumstances were changing. Haley had asked for a divorce and he hadn’t muttered a word of it to anyone.

He’s so tired, you can see. You wonder if everyone else notices it too, or if it’s just you observing so closely. He has dark circles now, because he never sleeps, always working, and the furrows on his forehead are seemingly etched in and permanent. He misses his wife and his son, and you know it, and maybe it’s wrong to care about your boss so much that your heart hurts when you see him glancing at the framed photos of his family on his desk, or the tiny polaroids in his wallet, but you do. You think you’re in love with Aaron Hotchner, and you don’t know how to make it stop.

You’re gonna get hurt, you remind yourself every now and then.

Aaron and Spence have just come back from the prison, where they had an encounter with Chester Hardwick that they won’t really talk about. You’d been with the rest of the team in Indiana, and then two days later in Oregon.

Aaron and Haley were divorcing, and it hurt him so much, you knew, because it wasn't for a lack of love. It was a lack of time, a shortness of hours in the day. He couldn’t be the husband Haley wanted and the father he thought Jack needed while being an agent for eighteen hours a day. It hurt you too, seeing him like this. You wish he felt better.

The days and weeks seemed to blend into months. Somewhere in between Hotch’s divorce and JJ’s pregnancy, you had become complacent with your relationship with Aaron. Walking in together from the parking lot, leaving together at the end of a long day—usually alone and sometimes joined by Emily or David. Sometimes you’d have a frothy drink from a nearby coffee shop in your hand—to which you always hear, “My coffee’s not better than that stuff?”

“It’s not coffee, remember-”

“I know, you don’t drink coffee. That stuff is full of sugar. I don’t need you bouncing off the walls like Reid and Garcia too.”

You laugh, and then you wonder if it’s because he really cares or if it was just a passing comment. You share a lot of little moments like that.

When his eardrum was nearly blown out after New York, you almost offered to drive back with him from Ohio to Virginia. It was instinct, because you just didn’t want him to be alone. You had exchanged a glance when he handed you the plate of brownies from the victim’s mother, and you knew he had read your mind. But he didn’t say anything, and you left it at that. You’re not nearly stupid enough to think that your boss reciprocates your feelings for him. Hell, most days you don’t even know what feelings you have for him.

Your seats on the jet are almost permanently fixed; near the coffee machine towards the cockpit. You sit across from each other, and sometimes you don’t even speak. He’ll bring you a cup of hot water, and he doesn’t ask if you need a tea bag from the make-shift coffee station, because knows they’re in your go-bag.

When it’s his weekend with Jack after two weeks of back-to-back cases, Aaron is always working on the reports on the jet. It’s because he’s trying to reduce how much work he has to do at home, and even when everyone’s fallen asleep and your eyes are close to shutting, you get up and make him a cup of coffee. He’s never once told you how he takes it, and he doesn’t know if you’ve seen him make it either, but somehow you know, and it’s always right. When you offer him the steaming paper cup, he looks up at you with an entirely new look—something you’ve never seen before. You two don’t exchange so many words.

He says it all with his eyes, sometimes, even when you’re not looking. It’s gratitude. (When you get off the jet a few hours later, you tease Morgan about his snoring. Derek asks you where his cup of coffee is, and you shove his arm so hard he almost drops his bag.

In the end, it was you who had figured out there was something wrong with the Reaper’s last few victims.

“Why would a nineteen year old girl date her teaching assistant?” You had questioned, looking through a file that everyone’s eyes had already seen. “An honors student, a freshman, I mean, none of this points to an illicit affair with faculty. She knew it was against the rules and her roommates said she’s never so much as skipped class.”

“That could have been because she wants to see him,” Derek interjects. “If they were truly in love like Foyet said, she’d take every opportunity to be with him.”

“But in an environment where no one can know you two are together? I mean, if she was in love and close to getting engaged, wouldn’t she tell her best friends? Her parents? How many teenage girls keep something like that just to themselves?”

The pieces of the puzzle that had once fit together so nicely were coming undone. It felt like the blink of an eye, from catching Foyet to him escaping. Everyone was on edge, no one more than Aaron, and your empathy still knew no bounds. Where you had once been able to focus on work and dedicate all your thoughts to the cases, you now were distracted and distant. Every other thought was about Aaron, as wrong as that might be.

Canada had been something else entirely. It was difficult for the entire team to fathom, but nearly impossible for you. You had lost your temper twice—something you’d never done before— and thrown up when the team discovered all the shoes. JJ had run after you but in the end, Aaron was the one who found you outside.

“I’m sorry, JJ, I’ll be fine—I-I just need a minute,” you breath out, chest heaving and tears brimming.

“It’s okay,” Aaron says, “take your time.”

You turn around so fast, your breath catching, and you hate this situation. You could never hate Aaron but you hate this, you hate that he followed you and that he’s seeing you like this. You look weak, after two and a half years of trying to prove to him that you’re strong—strong enough to handle this job, do what needs to be done, and not cry at a crime scene.

“I-I’m sorry, I-”

“Why are you apologizing?” He doesn’t sound mad, or like he’s belittling you, and you don’t know why that’s what you expected. This is Aaron, your Aaron, and even though he’s not really yours it doesn't seem to matter much right now.

“I’m making a scene. I-I shouldn’t be throwing up on the job or screaming at those unsubs or anything else-”

“It’s okay. It happens.” Aaron says it so concisely, you almost feel better for a second. Isn’t this what it’s always come down to? You need Aaron like air, and somehow he always knows what you need to hear. He doesn’t treat you any differently compared to the others but it feels different today. You can’t describe it in words. If JJ or Morgan had followed you out here, you would have said the same things, but you wouldn’t have felt this way. Like if you crumble here today, Aaron will be there to pick you up.

“Take your time, please,” he repeats. “I know you think you have something to prove to me, but you don’t. You’ve proven it already, to all of us. Admitting that all of this gets to you isn’t a bad thing. That’s what separates us from them.”

At that moment, a dam bursts. Tears flow down your face like they haven’t in so long, as long as you can remember. You think you should feel embarrassed, crying in front of your boss, but Aaron takes you into his arms and you can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. Cheesy, you think, but this is everything I thought it would be and more.

You’re not sure how long he holds you there, but eventually once the front of his shirt is covered in your tears and he offers you a tissue (Does he just carry this around waiting for one of us to cry?) and you head back together. This is the embarrassing part, you think, bracing yourself and biting your inner cheek. But if the team is judging you at this moment, they certainly don’t show it.

You join JJ and Emily inside the house, who ask you if you’re okay when you sniffle for the last time. Spencer asks you later, on the way home. Derek tells you to call him if you need anything. Dave tells you, “You’ll be okay, kid,” and somehow, you believe him. Penelope texts you once on your phone, checking in and promising a distracting, gossip filled girl’s night out soon.

Aaron walks you to your car, and says goodnight. You’re delusional, you think, once you're back at home. You’ve taken the longest, hottest shower imaginable and your record player is emitting the scratchy sound of your favorite Beatles album. You’re in a big shirt that’s getting wet while you brush your freshly cleaned hair and all you can think about is how it felt to be wrapped in Aaron’s arms a couple hours ago.

You are delusional, you remind yourself. You’re checking your phone every couple minutes like a love-sick teenager. You think Aaron’s going to call you to check in, you almost feel it in your bones. You leave the ringer on incase he calls later—maybe he showered and sat down to work on some reports before sleeping. You fall asleep thirty minutes later, exhausted down to your bones, and wake up startled by your phone going off. In your sleepy delirium, you answer without looking who it is—assuming it’s Aaron.

“Hotch?”

“Hey, sorry it’s JJ. We have another case, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, JJ, um, okay, I-I’ll be there in ten. Text the address, okay?” Your cheeks burn at the slip.

“I sent it just now. Listen, I’m sorry, but can you try Hotch’s cell? I called and texted and he’s not answering.” You feel your stomach turn, first because Aaron isn’t answering and he always answers, and second because JJ thinks he’ll answer if you call.

“I’ll try him now. I’ll call you back.”

You try him twice while changing and another time in the car. Your only explanation is that maybe he went to see Jack and put his phone away, but even that doesn’t check out.

When you get to the scene, you inform the others about Aaron not answering.

“Alright, let’s split up for now and I’ll keep trying Hotch,” Derek says. They don’t seem that worried, and maybe that lulls you into not worrying either. After all, they’ve known him a lot longer than you have.

You end up with Spencer and Emily at the doctor’s house, combing through patient files Garcia sent over. There’s tens of dozens, and even though you want to go with Emily to Aaron’s place to get him, you know your experience with kids and in the hospital is vital. You and Spencer start working, but something feels off. You just can’t place it.

In the end, you attribute it to your nerves from the last case. Your fear of embarrassing yourself carried into today, and even though you know no one judged you for losing it in Canada, the feeling lingers. Spencer answers the phone from Emily and says that Hotch was busy with something at the bureau that now requires Emily too. In the end, you and Spence figure it out just in time. Your body is so tired, it hurts, and then on top of that, Spencer gets hurt. You can barely process what’s happening, and you don’t feel better until the doctor says it’s through-and-through.

“God, Spencer, never do that again,” you say, your hands wet with the blood from his wound. You wipe it on your clothes, thinking you’ll change soon.

“Guys, guys listen to me, something’s happened to Hotch.” The blood drains from your face and your breath stops in your throat.

“What?”

“Emily told me not to say anything until we got the unsub, but he’s in the hospital.”

The next hour is a blur. You all show up to the hospital, and Emily is talking to a bunch of agents. Their faces are blurred because you can hardly think straight.

“Em? Is he okay?” your words must be coming out frantically because everyone’s looking at you like you’re about to crumble.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t say anything because I knew we wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case, I know it’s wrong but-”

“Is he okay?” You didn’t mean to cut her off, it just happened like that. Your mind is so clouded right now with a petrifying vision of Aaron dying alone on the floor of his new apartment that he hates so much, while you were waiting for a call for him.

“He-he hasn’t woken up yet.”

You sit on a chair by Aaron’s bed. He looks like he’s sleeping, and a part of you had always wanted to see him like this. It would be comforting, if he actually was sleeping. You’d imagined it a little differently—you thought for sure he snores and sleeps on his side. You always notice sleep lines only on one arm when you guys have just woken up and continue working on the case. You stare extra hard when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt on particularly hot days. Everyone would moan and groan about another case in the heat of Texas or Arizona, but not you.

It seems like those memories were a million years ago.

When he wakes up, everyone pours in and it distracts you for a few heartbeats. When they realize what Foyet is actually after, the terror is apparent on everyone's faces. You realize how long it’s been since you last saw Haley and Jack when they finally step into the room. You and Emily leave to give them privacy.

Later that night, you’re back in that chair. Aaron wakes up for a few minutes at a time, and when he finally stays awake, he notices you.

“How long have I been out?”

“Thirty minutes. Give or take.”

“Is there water?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You scramble up to get the pitcher and pour him a glass. There’s a straw too, which you put in the cup and hold still for a second so he can drink.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He can see all your emotions on your face. It doesn’t take him long at all, not anymore. You’ve been crying and your clothes have blood on them. He’s alarmed again.

“Is that your blood?” he asks, swallowing hard.

“No, no, Hotch. We had a case, the-the unsub shot Spence. He’s okay though, it just got on me and I haven’t been back home to change yet.”

“Why don’t you? Go home?”

“I didn’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I let you go home alone yesterday and look what happened.” You smile meekly at your own joke, hoping he appreciates it. He lies still though, not smiling.

“I think you should go home. Get some rest after everything.”

“You know, Hotch, only you would tell me to go home and rest up when you’re the one who’s currently in the hospital.”

“I just think-”

“Do you want me to leave? If you do, I will. I swear.” There’s silence between you two for a moment.

“No.”

“Good, because I wasn’t going to.” The corners of his mouth turn up a little. You barely even notice it. “I can’t leave now. I don’t want you to sit alone here.” You should stop talking, you think to yourself. But you don’t. “You know yesterday, I got home and the whole time I sat there wondering if you were gonna call my cell. I even turned the ringer up all the way so I didn’t miss it. And I know that’s stupid because why would you call me? But I had this feeling. And now all I can think is why didn’t I call you?”

“Don’t think like-”

“Don’t think like that? Yeah, I knew you would say that. But if I had called you like I wanted to, and asked you to come over like I wanted to, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But I didn’t because I was scared and I don’t want to be scared anymore. And I know this is the last thing you need to hear right now, but I guess I can’t hold it in any longer.”

You want to clamp your hand over your mouth. Your favorite cheesy rom-coms have infiltrated your brain, and you can’t fathom how stupid you must sound right now to Aaron. He’s just almost died and the kid who was the last to join his team is declaring love for him on his hospital bed. But it won’t stop coming out.

“Can I tell you something Aaron? I mean, more than I already have? Emily said she didn’t tell me you were hurt because she knew I wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case anymore. About anything, anymore, if I knew you were missing or that you were hurt or dead. And I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, because I know you don’t need any more complications in your life right now, but, I think I have feelings for you, Aaron.” Hot tears stream down your face. You try to stop them but you can’t. They’ve been building up for two years.

“Please don’t cry. I don’t have a tissue for you this time.” You smile through your tears, but your entire body is still tense. It’s because you’re still expecting bad news, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Do you want me to leave? I can call Emily, she’ll sit with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t want you to leave. And you don’t have to tell me these things, I already knew them.” Another few tears drip down your face. Aaron’s chest hurts more than it has ever before. He thinks back to your conversation on the jet that day, when you told him you cared about him and he hadn’t said much of anything at all. “I hope you know that I have feelings for you, too.”

“You mean you care about me and the team?” you question half-heartedly. You think you’ve already gotten your answer. “I mean I care about the team a lot. And I care about you more than I should, more than what’s right. More than a superior should care about one of their agents. And I think if this hadn’t happened, I would have called you last night. Not because of the case, because of you. Because I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest. Aaron reaches out his hand a little, and you take it into yours. You sit like that for a long time, and you know there’s so much else going on, but a small part of you sighs in relief. Aaron is okay, and he feels about you how you do about him, and maybe everything will be okay in the end.

The months after Haley’s funeral are tough for everyone. It’s weird going to work and not seeing Aaron. Sometimes you inadvertently make a cup of coffee how he likes it and have no one to give it to. You started drinking some, even though it tastes bitter and terrible, it makes you feel close to him.

How stupid is that, you wonder one day, sipping the coffee and looking over files with JJ. If the rest of the team thinks you're stupid, they haven’t shown any signs of it yet. You’re sure they mostly feel bad for you and your pathetic behavior. You’ve gotten sloppy because you can’t stop thinking about how Aaron is doing.

You and the team will go visit him and Jack at his new place. You make cookies, snickerdoodle for Aaron and oatmeal raisin for Jack.

“What kind of a kid are you?” you questioned, helping Jack scribble in his Captain America coloring book. He’s munching on a cookie while you try to figure out what part of the shield is blue and what part is red. “I mean, who likes oatmeal raisin cookies at the tender age of 5?”

“I did,” Spencer says, taking another one out of the tin.

“You don’t count, genius,” Morgan says, and then directs his gaze at you. “And I mean come on, no chocolate chip for me? None at all? That hurts.”

“I made you some like two weeks ago! I have a job, you know,” you fire back. Aaron laughs, eating the snickerdoodle after dipping it in milk. It’s so domestic, you feel yourself staring. You only turn away when he catches you looking.

When he comes back, you wonder if it’ll ever feel normal again. That silly routine you two had, the chairs on the jet near the coffee machine that you still sit in, walks to your car.

At first, it just feels strange. So much has changed yet the team’s dynamic remains the same. You get through cases with the same ferocity you had when you first started, eager to prove your worth again. Your reports detail every detail and then some, and you stay even later than Aaron some nights. You need something to focus on, and your cases seem like the best option. The other option is to have another conversation with Aaron about your feelings and you think you might die if that happens.

When it finally does happen, it’s plenty embarrassing. You were so sure about your theory about this unsub, so sure that he would confess if he was confronted about his crimes and reminded of the humanity of his victims—three little kids, all under ten. Maybe that’s why it bothered you so much, and that’s why you stormed into the residence even though the rest of the team was screaming at you not to. In the end, you talk him down, but Aaron runs in behind you anyways and nearly spooks the unsub into suicide.

“You do not have the authorization to make calls like that,” Aaron yells at you, and though you had once thought you would die if he yelled at you, it’s all too easy to yell back.

In that moment, when you had known what would happen, dealing with your area of expertise, he stormed in and questioned you and your abilities as an agent and as a profiler.

“I don’t need authorization, I knew what would happen, and I knew how to talk him down without this ending in gunfire—”

“I don’t care what you think you knew. This is a team, and we don’t make decisions that jeopardize a case without agreeing on it!” “You mean you have to agree with every decision I make? I had it handled, Hotch, you almost blew that whole thing up because you didn’t believe in me!”

“That’s not what this is about,” he fires back, and it feels strange to be yelling at you. He can’t recall the last time he’s ever done this. The rest of the team is just packing up in the police station, trying not to overhear but not really having any choice in the matter.

“Yes it is! You don’t trust me! Not to make decisions for this team and for our cases, or for anything. You just proved that back there. You don’t trust me.” It’s happening again. Tears brew in your eyes. They spill down before you can stop it. Aaron softens before your very eyes at the sight of them. “Stop! Stop feeling bad just because now I’m crying, they’re not tears for you, they’re angry tears and I can’t control it-”

“Of course, I trust you.” His voice has dropped from a yell to just above a whisper. “How could you think that I don’t?”

“I’m not stupid, Aaron. I know what I’m doing. My plan was going to work and you shot me down in front of everyone because you didn’t believe in me,” you say between tears. “Nothing’s changed.”

“And what do you think would happen if you stormed in there and I lost you too?” His voice is gentle. You hadn’t noticed that he was so close to you now. You can see the eyelash on his cheek and feel the heat radiating from his body.

“That’s not what this is about.”

“That is exactly what this is about. You think I don’t trust you, so I won’t let you walk into a confrontation alone? That I think you don’t know how to profile, how to handle these unsubs, so I get into a screaming match outside a crime scene? Tell me, does that check with any of my behavior in the years I’ve known you?”

“I don’t know, Hotch, I don’t profile you.”

“You call me Hotch in front of everyone, and especially when you’re upset with me. When it’s just us you use Aaron. You know how I take my coffee even though I’ve never told you, because you pay attention even when no one else is looking. Cases with children affect you the most, especially when it takes us longer to work them, because you think you should be quicker and figure out the unsub faster since you worked with kids before joining the team. You remember the little things everyone says because you don’t want them to think you’re not paying attention to them. You cry about cases when you feel like there’s something more you should have done, even though there’s nothing else any of us can do. And you cry about me the most of all, that time on the jet, in the hospital, and just now because you think I don’t share your feelings. You think I know all this because I’m profiling you, but it’s not. It’s because I pay attention to those whom I love.”

Shell shocked. You are shell shocked at Aaron’s speech, eyes wide and mouth open. You’re sure the rest of the team, hidden behind a bulletin board and the conference table is much the same.

“I’m going to kiss you now. And that’s the end of the conversation about me not trusting you, okay?” You nod dumbly. Aaron’s lips are sweet and taste like his coffee—black, with two sugars. You feel another tear falling but it’s only because you hadn’t expected any of that.

“That took long enough,” David says from behind the partition.

and voila <3

#spent my sunday writing this while rewatching season 3 #putting off prep for my grad school interview b/c this is so much better <3 #hope everyone likes it #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotcher imagine #hotch #hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

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batfleshh · 7 months

Text

Secret

Captain Price x M!DogHybrid!Reader

Warnings: MORE HYBRID SHIT, I’m in a Price mood Ngl, bjs and shit, uhh workplace sex?? Idk, cigar smoking, uhh idk you’re under a desk and someone comes in, gay, bleh, no established relationship?, not proof read

★ Being hired as a hybrid to work with the Task force meant many responsibilities. A lot of those responsibilities meant being around the captain a lot. You didn’t complain, following orders was just something you were meant to do. If he called for you, you would come. Like a dog to its owner, you didn’t complain or get annoyed when you saw him. You were fine with the captain, even enjoying his company from time to time. Sometimes he would just call you in to sit in his office, strike up a conversation involving a topic or two before sending you on your way. It didn’t bother you, even if it was just to collect a few pieces of information from you.

★ Some would even make jokes about you two getting it on in his office, Price quickly shutting down the idea being spread by any dumb rookie. You would just chuckle at the comments, the way he would immediately stop the words from spreading would surprise you. It wasn’t like it was a lie, anyway. When someone would bring up that joke, your mind would immediately skip to what you did in his office last night. Your ears would twitch on your head, tail wagging out of sight while Price chewed out the recruit. He was hot when he was serious, you weren’t going to lie. You were always more than excited when he would use that tone on you, too. The way he could easily command you always made your stomach feel warm, the instinct to be obedient to him made it easier for you to comply.

★ The jokes floating among the rookies weren’t just pulled out of thin air, most of the time. A few could swear on their lives that the few times they’ve walked by his office, muffled groans could be heard on the other side. Others, they heard quiet whimpers, or the quiet rocking of his desk. Maybe the captain just liked to do certain activities in his office, and no one had the balls to ask what they were. But deep down, they all came to the conclusion that Price was in there having his way with you. The way you submit to him wasn’t unnoticed, even though it could just pass as you being a loyal hybrid.

★ And maybe that was what it was that was making you like this, the need to please an authority figure making you more vulnerable to him. And for the many times noises were heard, that’s exactly what was happening inside. The shuffling of a desk rocking and the whimpers were no mistakenly the heard sound, the captain fucking into you at a brutal pace as you were bent over his desk. Tears collected in your eyes as you moan and whine, his rough hands holding you in place. One of his hands was kept on your neck, holding you still. The other was holding onto that tail of yours, keeping it from getting in the way. In a way, he found its frantic movements adorable, your body giving non verbal signs of enjoyment.

★ Then there was the groaning, that one giving itself away sometimes. You would be in his office, snug sitting under his desk on your knees. You had come in maybe thirty minutes before, a hazy look in your eyes as he looks up at you from his papers. He calls you over, asking every appropriate question before inviting you under his desk. He makes sure you want it, grabbing your chin gently and making you look up at him. He asks one more time for good measure, finally letting you free his cock from his pants as he continues to smoke on his lit cigar. After a few minutes, your slowly easing his cock into your mouth, quiet whimpers leaving your throat.

★ Price doesn’t force it in, or pull it out of your mouth. He knows to let you take your time, this being some sort of stress reliever to you. Every once in a while he’ll reach down and stroke his hand through your hair, chuckling at the sound of your tail thumping against the wood of his desk. The smell of the cigar fills your nose as you continue to suck on his cock, your eyes still holding that hazy hue as you look up at him most of the time. At one point, he blows the smoke of the cigar playfully down at you, chuckling as you groan and try to swat the smoke away. You both sit in a comfortable silence for a while, enjoying each others company.

★ Well it was quiet, until you heard the unmistakable sound of a knock on the door. You panic, sitting up quickly only to hit your head on his desk. You whine, rubbing at your now throbbing head as you look up at Price, panicked. He gently shushes you, grabbing your chin and slowly guiding you back to his cock. You open your mouth obediently, even though your eyes hold so much confusion. He presses a finger to his lips, a small “shh” sound leaving from behind it as he moves his chair closer to his desk. You choke slightly on his cock, small noises leaving you as you wait for his instructions. What surprises you is when you hear a very audible “come in!” from the captain, your eyes holding a slight sense of fear. He just sneaks his hand down slowly to gently rub at your ears, putting his cigar out as the person walks in.

★ Its a casual conversation on details for a mission you’re all going on, Prices hand leaving from below the desk to shuffle around some files on top of it. The recruit stays longer than you would like for them to, taking Prices cock out of your mouth and licking at his tip. You smirk slightly as he glances down at you, fully aware of what you’re doing. Your tail thumps quietly against the floor, almost wanting for you both to get caught. Price clears his throat and leans back slightly and continues talking to the recruit, his foot slowly moving to press down on your tail, a quiet noise of shock leaving you as his boot holds it in place.

★ When the recruit finally leaves, Prices chair is moved back out, his foot moving off of your tail as he glares down at you. You give him a playful smile, yelping somewhat in surprise as his hand moves to the back of your head. Your head is forced down on his cock, pathetic whimpers and small gags leaving you as he guides your head on his length, drool seeping from around his cock as you let him do it. Tears prickle in your eyes as he stills his movements, hand pressing your head down and releasing down your throat. He slowly eases his dick out of your mouth, watching you cough quietly and swallow. He hands you a small water bottle he has sitting on his desk, tucking his cock back into his pants as you drink from it. He moves his chair out to let you leave, only for you to shake your head. He hums, moving back in and letting you follow through with your own idea as he moves to his papers again. You hum contently, resting your head on his lap.

★ Who wouldn’t want that kind of attention from their Captain?

~ ★

#bat bite #male reader #x male reader #gay #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x male reader #captain john price #captian price x male reader #price x male reader #price mw2 #captian price #john price #price x reader #captain price #cod price #hybrid reader #hybrid male reader #captain price smut

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housethemd · 2 months

Text

My headcanons for a 2024(ish) House MD (self indulgent sorrysorry)

- House is canonically bisexual, and instead of hookers (or maybe as well as) he’s very open about his Tinder/Grindr hookups.

- Wilson is still a closet case, somehow. All his friends are queer, he is very active as an ally, but has somehow not figured it out. He even has little pride flags in his office pencil holder.

- Cuddy is a lesbian, she and House still flirt for funsies (worth noting I think her and House still had a one night stand in college before she came out, prompting a running joke that sex with House turned her into a lesbian)

- Chase goes viral on twitter (X) when he starts live tweeting House’s antics during DDx’s (his handle is @thataussiedoc and all his DDx tweets are tagged #mycrazyboss)

- The ducklings make tiktok videos when they don’t have a case. The first time House catches them they are expecting him to call them idiots or throw them out of the DDx room, but instead he joins them. Cue House doing a hilarious tiktok dance.

- Non-binary Thirteen my beloved

- Foreman plays Pokemon Go

- House gets a Nintendo Switch for his office so he can game in there, and when forced to go do clinic duty switches to handheld mode

- House and Kutner will game together when they don’t have a case

- There is a PPTH Diagnostics Dept. Discord server

- Foreman hates Apple products

- Cameron has one of those rainbow pins that says “you’re safe with me” she wears on her white coat

- House learns Gen Z slang and spends an entire episode talking exclusively in it - and everyone else is left trying to piece together what he’s saying

- House is canonically autistic but it only comes out during “Lines in the Sand” or similarly themed episode. I feel like either Chase or Foreman get snippy during the DDx and makes a muttered, offhand comment about House, something to the effect of “yeah well maybe you have autism too” and House is like “well duh.” They spend the rest of the episode approaching the other ducklings, Wilson, etc about how they feel, now that they know that House has autism only to be met with general indifference. Maybe it ends when they go to Cuddy and she reminds them what a great doctor House is and all that and eventually they are forced to confront their own internalized ableism.

- PPTH definitely has a float in the pride parade every year

- Chase plays Among Us

- Lesbian Cameron but also CompHet. Like the first couple seasons she hasn’t figured it out yet.

- Hilson is absolutely made canon at some point

I told you they were self indulgent. Might reblog to add more as I think of them!

#house md #james wilson #hate crimes md #greg house #hilson #dr house #dr wilson #wilson x house #gregory house #house/wilson #autistic greg house #non binary thirteen #house md headcanons

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diorcities · 1 month

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⠀ ⠀ ── zｚＺ nct dream on reader calling them oppa.

nct dream sfw headcanon. *(삼촌 (samchon: uncle) library.

mark. he doesn't pay much attention to honorifics once he's friends with someone. besides, he's used to being called by you and haechan any variation of his name instead of his own, he finds makgeolli, mwork, markeuri funny, he just likes it more when you do it. but, the times you call him oppa he can't help but feel a certain way; somehow, it sounds endearing when you say it, but he wouldn't know how to tell you to do it more often without revealing too much about why. maybe he would joke about it, something like “dude, ah..., why don't you just call me oppa for once?” but hoping you would actually think about it.

jaemin. he wouldn't pay too much attention if you decide to call him by his name one day you realize you two are close, though he would feel like something is missing, he would feel weird until he realizes it's you, so he'd start referring to himself as oppa when you're around. “let oppa take care of it.” “oppa cooked you some meal.” he's the sweetest oppa ever. always taking care of you, making sure you're okay. acts super helpful. it's the way your voice sounds more tender when you refer to him than the rest, it makes him feel special; you make him feel special.

jeno. it's a simple word that for obvious reasons he's heard it before, but why does he always expect you to call him that? somehow, hearing oppa from your lips is a heartwarming feeling knowing that you only call him that among the dreamies. poor guy, he'd spend all day wondering why him? why only him? “maybe she likes you.” jaemin would suggest after listening to him vent for a solid half hour. maybe, maybe..., his crescent eyes would widen in panic, “what if she's been calling me oppa in a brotherly way?”

chenle. one time you heard him saying he likes it better when girls say his name... and last name. then you started calling him that way, and he didn't want to correct you at the time, so he went along with it because he doesn't care much if you use oppa or not..., right? when you start calling him by his first and last name, the boy thinks he's dying. he feels physically unwell. maybe he's exaggerated a bit that he doesn't care. constantly waiting for you to magically decide to call him oppa again without him having to intervene; it doesn't work and in the end he has to drop a super casual comment, “actually, i don't like how my name sounds in your mouth. call me oppa again.”

haechan. it's the only way you can get his attention. the guy acts like his name is neither lee haechan, nor lee donghyuck, nor dummy, brat, jerk... eventually you give in and he'd reply to you with the most condescending tone he has, “yes?” “you're unbelievable.” even though he wants to hide it, he actually melts when you use oppa when referring to him. it's a confidence boost for him. he would act overprotective in the future with you, and you would realize that it serves as a way for him to do what you ask.

renjun. if you are learning korean, then renjun would be the grammar rules policeman. just because what if you are talking to a stranger and you call them oppa? he'd emphasize that you should only call guys you consider close to you, like him, by that name. “what about your friends?” you may ask, “just call them by their full names, i guess,” he'd respond. ok, maybe he has offered to help you with your korean because every time you ask him something you always call him oppa as he takes this very seriously. “thank you, samchon!” uncle? uncle? there would be no way to describe his face other than grumpy. “you, brat!”

jisung. for the love of god, never call him that. nicknames, if you like. somehow, being called oppa makes him feel weird, especially if you do. it makes him nervous, it makes him sweat, it makes his stomach churn. maybe he's getting sick and doesn't know how to react to appear cool and chill. maybe he should tell you? why does he feel like he shouldn't? that it should be a secret what he feels? “hey, do you feel weird when yn calls you oppa?” he asks jeno; he somehow has the answer. “weird how?” “like you could explode if she keeps calling you that?” he looks at jeno in awe when he starts giggling, “doesn't that happen when you like someone?” oh. maybe. maybe that's it.

#nct dream fluff headcanons #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream soft hours #haechan fluff #mark fluff #jisung fluff #jaemin fluff #jeno fluff #renjun fluff #chenle fluff

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darlingofvalyria · 9 months

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❝I am going to make him bow to me, brother. Mark my words.❞

[ Jace does not yearn for you. Does not wish for you. Does not want you. But oh, lies are bitter and brittle under a tongue that yearns to taste. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,753 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt!reader (aegon's twin sister), might be small aegon ii x reader but it's one sided on aeg's behalf, sorry.

contains— manipulative reader, targarcest, mild nsfw, angsty - CANON DIVERGENCE - use of bastard, mentions of alcohol and slight phys. abuse (otto's a dick) - sort of non canon compliant, timeline is loosey goosey; in the books, rhae & dae visit kings landing frequently even after moving to dragonstone, so im going by that - nsfw: male masturbation, strong allusions to sex but no actual woohoo, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas. unedited.

a/n— for my boy jace, the prettiest dark haired prince there is. simp!jace you will always be loved by me. comments, reblogs & like at will! + dividers by @danowh0re + accompanied song: SWEAT— HAYZ.

Aegon, under the guise of weighty cups and half-mast eyes, slides beside you, following your gaze as you appraised the entrance of the Strong bastards into the courtyard.

"Are you sure about this, sister?"

"Does wine taste like heaven under grandsire's scolding, brother?"

Aegon snorts. As your twin, the difference between the two of you are more stark than people might think. Though you share the childish, almost babe like features that usually got women to bow down to Aegon— with your doe eyes, the soft cheeks, and the curled pout — where people think Aegon is a horrible mess of a git, your shared grandsire the forefront of this slander, you are quite the opposite. Beloved, dutiful, and innocent in the eyes of many.

It didn't matter that you wore green as prettily as your mother, or that your twin is a mess of wine and women— you were different. You were kind, pretty, and enticing.

A precious flower among green thorns, the smallfolk whispered.

People had even commiserated how, despite the typical Valyrian looks of silver-gold hair and lilac eyes, your Hightower lineage softened your edges. Your looks.

Your personality.

Snort.

"You know Aemond would rather see you insult the little bastard in half, than whatever it is that you are thinking of doing."

You hum as you don't remove your gaze from the dark haired prince, making jokes with his younger brother, Lucerys. From the corner of the courtyard, you and your twin could see Aemond sparring with Ser Criston with more vigour than he usually did, especially at the time of day. Occasionally, he spared the younger Strong bastard a glance that spoke of trying to unearth his insides from his body, no doubt imagining the very same as he swung his blade.

Aegon and you shared a look, stifling laughter, before you focused back on your prey. Jacaerys Velaryon. A name he uses like a shield despite having not a single drop of the sea in his blood. All you had to do was look at the dark hair, the skin and the nose of the First of Men before him.

How your half-sister Rhaenyra can say he was a Velaryon with a straight face is beyond you.

Your gaze might be searing as Jace looks up at the balcony from where you had been idly staring at him for the better half of the time, and you give him a wry sort of smile. A soft sort of smile. An acknowledgement. Just as he makes a nod of hesitant acknowledgement— unlike your brothers, you had not join in on the hostility and mean-spirited comments — you had already turned fully to Aegon as if you are enraptured by conversation.

"It's a contingency plan, my darling Aeg," you say softly as you brush the back of your hand to his face. You are aware of Jace's gaze now focused on you and your twin and you make it good for him. You make a performance. You follow the steps you've practiced so eagerly.

And eager for your soft touch, Aegon's eyes flutter in response. Ever since you were young, and seeing how harsh everyone is of Aegon and his failures, you decided you would be the kindness to him.

Though you do like him, another contingency plan for him wouldn't be so bad, would it? After all, you can bet on a lot of things, but your grandsire's award-winning thirst for power and your mother's malady to anxieties are good tidings to see them planting Aegon on the throne and usurping everything from your dearest, oldest sister.

Aeg didn't need to know that, of course.

What he can know and what he can help with, is making sure Jacaerys was looking as you smiled softly at your brother, your gold and silver spun hair bathed in morning light, and in one of your favourite dresses— a white silver dress lined with black lace and green embroidery of dragons — you were angelic personified. The Maiden come to gather and soothe your dearest brother.

You capture Aegon's face in your hands, ever soft, ever sweet, as you smile at him. He's so deprived of physical touch that doesn't harm him that he sighs against your palms. You do feel a little bad, but you need this plan to work.

"I am going to make him bow to me, brother," you whisper, giving him a soft kiss to his temple. He shudders, hands placing them on your waist, enunciating the kind curves you sport. "Mark my words, that boy king will stifle under my hand and foot. Mother's fears will not come to fruition. All will be well."

"I am older than you," he says softly, half smiling.

A gaze sears at the side of your face, as strong as the concussive heat radiating off a dragon's maw as your thumb brushes across your twin's cheek.

There is that, you think amusedly. No one can deny the little heir is his mother's child. Bastard he maybe.

"And I am better," you whisper, snickering.

"That you are." But his gaze is past you, back at the courtyard, at the reason for the heat in your skin. A spark of jealousy is quick in his mulish blue eyes but you only laugh. Light but loud, echoing.

"Come," you say with finality, taking a step back and offering your hand as you make the conscious choice of not daring even a peripheral glance, and heading back inside the keep. "We shall see them at dinner. The king's orders."

Your brother makes a sound crossbred from a huff and a groan, and you are already making plans to ensure his wine is controlled for the night, lest he makes a fool of himself in front of the King— or gods forbid, your grandsire — and mayhaps ensure the seating arrangement once again with your mother.

But everthing else is background noise; your schemes and your plots, your facades and faces, because a faux Velaryon has made it known that he cannot keep his gaze away from you.

Everything else is moot.

Jacaerys Velaryon, firstborn son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, soon to be Heir to the Iron Throne and Prince of Dragonstone, does not understand himself.

Perhaps you are just eye-catching. Your hair is more gold than silver, but it shifts like a mirage against sunlight. You yourself seem to change under shadows and light, as if you're casting a new spell again and again. Your eyes, your lips, the slivers of presented skin (have you really shown this much skin, all this time?), and your hips.

They sway, like a panther's.

Like a dragon's.

Jace has always known you to be pretty; Helaena has always been his favourite aunt with the fact that she's quiet and doesn't antagonise him like your brothers. Because Helaena simply cared little for him not because he was Rhaenyra's son, or that he didn't look like his father, or because he was a prince of the realm set to become heir once his mother was crowned.

Helaena simply just didn't care about him as a human not as hisn ame or his blood, her thoughts lingering more in her bugs and the fat babes she had with her brother, humming nonsensical under her breath. Not insults.

You were different. You looked. Jace knew you looked but he had never caught you before. It's a dance, he later realises come dawn he is awoken and there is a weight on top of him in rings of gold and silver, breathing softly— alive and so very warm, and from that moment, his — but for now he doesn't know.

Doesn't understand.

Your gaze is weighty, leaving searing imprints like a dragon marking it's favourite horde. But it's so hard to catch.

It started at the training grounds. As if his Uncle Aemond's wasn't enough, there was yours. He knew but could only see once, and even that felt like it was deliberate, a mere nod. As if you controlled how he worked around your sphere, and by gods, were you beautiful. Then you had turned to your twin brother as if he was nothing to you— really, he was, in the scheme of things, you were the secondborn daughter of the Queen, no matter how pretty your visage or blood is, you are a woman and a third child (right after the firstborn daughter and son), and in the other end, Jacaerys was the first son and heir of the Princess of Dragonstone, soon to be Queen. In fact, you should be nothing to him.

He was to become King, and you to be offered to a lord. To be someone's wife, to relinquish your surname and become someone's mother. Rear your new lord husband countless of babes and live your life having fulfilled your sole duty.

It is a fact that tasted brittle and bitter in his tongue, like soot and ash, and he doesn't understand it. You had crossed his mind, idle as it maybe, from time to time, but nothing concrete. You are pretty, you are kind, mischievous at times, playful, and you purposefully don't keep him long in your orbit.

You were just another aunt. Aegon's Twin Flame.

Misbegotten to not even marry your brother.

It was at dinner that night, amongst clinking goblets and fat foods spilling the edges of the table, his grandsire having arrived, even Aegon, rumpled hair and sunken eyes but dressed and suspiciously sober— and you, your mother's favourite, her most affectionate daughter, late.

"Where is she?" Jacaerys heard the Lord Hand asked, but the Queen had no reply, as confused.

And then you arrive, not ten more minutes later, and Jace's entire body had locked.

Though he did not know why or what, he knew you were up to something. You arrived in a new dress from this afternoon— close to it's style, nothing like the Queen's or Helaena's, conservative high necks and pious ever green— no, you came as a surprise with a flutter of a silken hand and an embarrassed laugh, tipping to your father a kiss on the side of his good face.

Even as you sat, it took a good, long while before the chatter would arose again (from your gracious laugh at your father's compliment no less), before everyone's eyes— even Criston Cole's, ever loyal rat — would lift from your visage.

You were ethereal, simply put, in a dress that is not of pious ever green or high collar trim; but in a flutter of what Jacaerys remembers as his mother's gown when she was pregnant with Aegon, and the days got too hot. When the babe inside her, made of pure dragon, had made her a furnace burning from the inside out.

It was the same lightweight material draped over your skins, a thin material bunched up several times so it is not too sheer. Not too inappropriate. Jace doesn't know what the fabric is, doesn't care to, but it looks like flowing water against your body. It moulds to your movements. Your shape is obvious, so are the expose arms, collarbones, your chest dipping low, too low sometimes when you lean over and laugh, eyes alight— Jace's eyes cannot stay away, they are glued to your necklace, to the top of your smooth breasts — and the dress is held together in links of golden dragons, your hair made up in braids, in pearls and small emeralds, with curled strays framing your cheeks and smile, your exposed neck.

It was meant to garner looks, compliments.

But it was the colour that Jacaerys knew it was meant for him.

At the centre of your chest— your bosom that dips, two mounds, so soft looking and the urge to reach over and press his fingers down, see how soft and pliant you really are, hear the kind of noises you make, in pain or pleasure, his thoughts make him hiss, tightening his hold on his wine, pinching nails to skin to ground himself — it starts off a darken green, shifting, blending to a winter green, a bluer green, a seafoam that he is more than familiar with, before escaping the edges in deep water blue.

The colour of his father's house had never looked so good, so charming, so sinful before.

He tears his eyes away from you because it is improper to be staring so, to be looking at you and feel like he is feasting when he is rooted in his chair and still so hungry, especially with the plans of betrothal with Baela, his mother had already asked him if she is ever in his thoughts.

Baela who sits beside him, ramrod straight and keen-eyed, respectable Targaryen lady, a confidant and a good friend. She would make a good queen in the future, he had thought so before. Respectable and fearsome, the best parts of his stepfather and the late Lady Laena.

He shakes his head, swallowing down his slice of veal before he kicks Luke's leg under the table.

His brother yelps, a mournful irritated sound for his eyes had ogled far longer (just like he, but would never admit) on you than was proper, reminding him, and yet when you look up at the sound, your eyes— have they ever been so violet? — lands on him. Again.

When your gazes meet, he is enraptured, but he clears his throat and nods. "You look good, aunt." And because he cannot step, because his thoughts are cloudy and you are looking at him as if you know he can't stop looking at you, as if you can read each filthy thought he tries to stifle, as if you like it, he continues, "The sea green is a nice colour on you."

He can feel eyes on him, even the Lord Hand's. Even Aegon, goblet pressed against his lips, hiding a smirk. He burns, but he doesn't burn as bright when your smile stretches, your lids lower, and he burns so bright he fears he might be on fire.

The flames are licking him and he does not mind, so long as you keep your gaze.

"Thank you, nephew," you hum. "That is so very sweet of you to say."

And Jacaerys blushes, coughing once when he notices his lady mother giving him a look. Knowing. Curious but not probing, not yet. What he doesn't notice is the Queen's perceptive frown as she gazes at her daughter, the Lord Hand's raised eyebrow, or Aegon trying so very hard to stifle his laughter, turning to Helaena as if he is saying something to her.

But what Jacaerys does see is Aemond's intense glare, sharpened and rekindled and suspicious, and Daemon... The Rogue Prince is eyeing you differently. No longer just another Targaryen bleeding Hightower green, no longer just another offspring of the Hightower cunt.

No, Jace can almost see inside his stepfather's brain and see the Valyrian looks. The body of a woman freshly sloughed off the body of a child.

You are pretty and young and Daemon Targaryen is looking at you.

It shocks Jace how much he despises it.

It is for my mother, his thought persists even as he looks at you again and his insides whirl. I am upset for my mother.

Daemon Targaryen can see plainly what you are doing.

You've always hated that about men with good insight, who do not care for what is between your legs, only for your actions. For what it might do for what he cares about.

And Daemon cares for Rhaenyra, for Viserys, for the Targaryen legacy, pure and untainted.

(As if the blood of the First Men is okay to bastardise his bloodline but gods forbid the oldest and greatest of the Great Houses).

And he is now looking at you as if he has noticed the steps and webs you have spun around for his stepson, the direct legacy, and he is amused.

The dinner comes to a conclusion to a small dancing, and your twin, dutiful to you and your orders you had told him as you cleaned and prepared him for dinner; stood up, brushed himself off, and politely asked Baela for a dance— the latter looking so surprised he was fully sober, much less asking for her hand — that she found no excuse, and reluctantly accepted as they pivoted to the centre.

As Daemon continues to look at you, to unravel you as if you are an enemy in a battle map, you stand up quickly and turn to Aemond, smile wide and fake.

Jacaerys won't ask you to dance. He had drawn looks with his compliment, suspicion. Grandsire was right, they are planning to marry him off to Baela to strengthen their cause. Jace will not entertain anything anymore publicly.

Duty bound, honour bound.

But, but, but.

you are not a fool, you know men and their pissing contests. You are a daydream hiding a nightmare.

For the past few minutes, he had noticed Daemon's inquisitive, amused appraisal of you, and his brown eyes (pretty for a bastard's; Ser Harwin's lashes must have been long) had burned a different fire and it gives you an idea, an exhale of relief.

Jealousy can salvage anything.

You just need to push him.

And Aemond is beautiful, a true Valyrian King in visage, the Warrior come alive. You look so much softer when you are beside him.

"Sister?" Aemond looks up at you, curious, confused since the beginning of the night. There is a plot he isn't privy to, and he has been spearing glances at you, at Aegon, at his grandsire just in case he knew anything.

You were unmarried while Aegon had married Helaena. Your time is coming, and he loathes the idea of a betrothal to the Strong Bastard. He had made his complaints known when the missive came from your sister, asking sweet Helaena's hand for your son thinking your mother would have surely betrothed you to your twin.

Neither side knowing you had almost sent back your name, offering your hand.

"It has been a while since you had asked me to dance, little brother," you say, hands behind your back, framing yourself soft and playful. There are so many gazes on you, you play with it well.

"I was ten and one then, mandia sister, a boy."

"Too long," you tease. "Kessa ao daor lilagon lēda aōha mandia, valonqar? Will you not dance with your sister, little brother?"

He hums, acquiescing easily, and standing up. You peel a laughter that attracts a chuckle from the king. This is how you dance around the palm of Viserys I. Men like it when you play a part. Not to cost trouble, not to step over the line.

You aren't the elder sister, the firstborn child. You are means to further a line, not to have any important position. Rhaenyra is the exception only from the womb that bore her. You, like Helaena, are likened to fall in line and act like you like it. Like being a fat, old lord's wife has always been your dream. Bear his babes and suffer the trauma of hanging your life in the balance to produce them into the world.

It makes you burn with rage most days.

"What are you doing, mandia sister?" Aemond whispers against your cheek after having brought you close, dancing through the steps swiftly, keenly. It truly is a shame that Aemond doesn't dance oft.

"Won't you just believe and put your faith in the sister that you adore?" you snipe playfully. It's easy to use Aemond's hair to hide the glance you drop Jacaerys and see the seething glare he burns through your baby brother's head. Lust, yearn, jealousy— they dance and cook in his gaze. You giggle despite yourself.

"Grandsire will not allow you to marry that bastard," Aemond hums, unable to hide his irritation. You roll your eyes. Clever little brothers.

"As much love as I can grasp from my heart for our grandsire, valonqar, I am a dragon. I will take what I want. A tower is nothing to dragonfire. Grandsire oft forgets I am a princess of the realm and he is only a lord." You step back and bow as the song ends, as your father tires and wishes to go to bed. He only stays this long, or even leaves his chambers, when Rhaenyra decides to deign Kings Landing with her presence.

Always more for the heir. More effort, more love, more care.

And what is left for the other daughters of Viserys I?

He remembers Helaena's existence less, and if you do not make it a point to visit him everyday— to entertain him, read to him, laugh at being mistaken for Rhaenyra — you are sure you will be nothing more than a faint dream to him.

Your anger licked dark and green. Inside, it rages.

You watch as Jacaerys Velaryon says something to his mother, a rushed farewell, an excuse— a press of your fingers against your lips as you catch his breeches are tight, that his jaw is clenched — you step closer to Aemond once more, Aegon now drifting away from Baela and back into your orbit.

"Don't worry, little brother, I do not actually desire the Strong bastard. I want his crown."

Aegon giggles breathlessly, eyeing as Aemond's eye widen a fraction before he composes himself. "And what do you need now, sister, to accomplish such a beguilingly easy task?" Aegon snorts softly. There is only a faint scent of alcohol on him. You take it as win. "He's like a green boy from a quick flash of your chest. What more your tits in full display?" He leans close, mean and adorable. "You do not want a husband who is too quick for your own pleasure."

You swat his arm, pinching the soft flesh of his stomach before Aemond fully throttles him.

"Watch your tongue," Aemond hisses, fists clenching.

"It is okay. I take no offense, he is just being silly to rile you up," you placate him, pulling your twin closer to you just as Helaena approaches, shuffling close to your other side, burying her head against your collarbone. You hum, letting her quietly choose which physical affection she can take from you.

The four Green children, missing one. Scales of the dragon they may have, green fire burning from their maws. The four Green children, miss one. Sons and daughters of Viserys I. Nothing more than wombs and seeds for his legacy.

You finally turn to Daemon's probing stare and you keep it. "Keep his family away from him," you whisper to your siblings. You do not care if he understands. At this point, even your grandsire may have an idea for your plots.

And for the crown, for his lineage, no ambition is too small.

If he can send your mother to an old, grieving man after he had butchered his first wife, what ease it is to send a granddaughter willing to dance a scandal?

"I need him alone tonight."

You do not come to him immediately, more than knowing what he is doing. Maegor's Holdfast is a fun little place, with its secrets and tunnels. You had already studied the path to his apartments beforehand, and you are there, against the hidden way, hearing him fuck his fist to the vision of you, your name dripping and spitting from his pretty red lips.

You catching him after the high, chest up and down breathing hard. There is a self-loath, a disgust. You can just read his thoughts. When you enter, he is alarmed, a sword in his hand, guarded replaced to shock at the sight of you.

"Aunt," he whispers, appalled. Lustful. Righteous.

You tilt your head, unsmiling. You guard your thoughts as you approach, hands behind your back, voice soft. "Do you always reach to completion with my name in your tongue, nephew, or is today an exception?"

Jacaerys Velaryon flinches, sword hand dipping. "I—"

You are close, a hair's breadth away. Amusingly, he is struggling with himself. His honour in one hand, his desire in another. He wants to leap away from you and pull you close.

His choice is still open.

You answer for him.

"Would you like to know whose name falls from my lips when I reach completion?" you whisper against his lips. So close but still so far. Your fists are clenched behind your back, nails drawing blood. You cannot fail now. The Rogue Prince might be wandering now, ready to yank you or kill you.

You are a viper in a vipper's nest, and Daemon Targaryen is too late to realise you only want one true victim.

Jacaerys is drawn, the shock of your words melting to make way for the flutter of his eyes and the full shudder of his body as you lick a strip across his bottom lip, staining him.

Break yourself for me, Strong Boy, you think as he opens his eyes and stares at your lips. Break your oaths, your promises.

"Whose?" he asks, voice hoarse.

The surrender is at the hands he has brought first to your hips before he rose it slowly up and up, until his warm palms cupped your jaw, your face, swallowed in his hold. It is a delight to know his hands are bigger than your face, that he is told to tower over you. A boy king grown.

"Yours."

He groans but does not let you go. "I am betrothed."

You still. Such a Good, Strong Boy, resisting until the very fucking end. "I have not heard of such announcements, nephew."

"Mother will announce soon."

"Is that what you want then?" You grip his hands and stride forward until your are chest to chest. Until he can feel every outline of your body against his, until you can feel the hard line of his manhood against your stomach. Until he feels his own body breaking his oath.

"Please, Jace," you whisper, you beg. Your eyes begin to water. "I want you to take me... Only you. I have longed for you for so long. Your mother— my sister betrothed you to me first." He leans back, surprise flitting. "Yes, my love. But my mother had refused. I— I thought you would see it nevertheless. The affection in my gaze, the smile I give only to you. That I am offering my heart, my soul, my body to you. Only to you, Jacaerys."

Your tears are running down now, your voice so soft and so desperate. Where lust had clouded him, it is now tinged with a flattered adoration.

Men are so simple. Boys far simpler.

"I thought you knew," you say at last in a voice as broken as your heart. You take his hands away and step back. He grasps but you turn away, a sob wracks from your chest as fake as when you were a child, trying not to get in trouble with your mother so she can fire the septa that you hated. She had sneered at Aegon's drunken folly and was disgusted by Aemond's fresh wound.

You wanted her gone.

"Aunt, I—"

"It is alright," you cut him off. You turn back slightly, your smile watery, your gaze to the floor. "Aegon did not choose me either, unlovable as I am. Men only want me for my body and nothing more. I-I'll leave you be. Good night—"

You never finish your spiel because he had yanked you, hard, against him, his lips moving against yours— clumsily, not enough practice but aggressive in its desire — pressing you against him as if he is trying to swallow you whole.

Jacaerys is not bowing, not yet. But that night with his seed warm and full inside your womb, his body encased against your own, tightening whenever you made a movement, as if in fear any step you take away from him would slip you so freely from his fingers— his mouth, his lips, bruised by your own making, pressing featherlight soft against the side of your head, your hair — it is not too soon to think the boy king will bend the knee to you and only you.

And maybe the babe you bear him, but there is no need to rush. These steps are delicate but sure.

After all, he has only just cemented the thought that he will whisk you both to Dragonstone at first light, a traditional Old Valyrian wedding.

He will bow soon enough.

For now, you will enjoy your glowing win.

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x oc #jacaerys smut #targaryen reader #jacaerys fanfiction #jacaerys fanfic #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#manipulative reader #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #jacaerys angst #₊˚ପ⊹ hightower green 🕷

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lucysarah-c · 12 days

Text

Scratches down his back

Summary: Repeat after me, nothing good happens in the common showers unless it’s Levi sandwiching you with the wet wall. Sadly, this is not the case. So, nothing good will happen. Author's Note: I'm revisiting this piece, my second-ever Levi fanfiction, after Tumblr inexplicably removed it. I've made a few alterations, so if you recall the original, you might notice some differences. I've attempted to recreate it to the best of my memory. Despite initially intending it to be full NSFW, I've reconsidered; it doesn't quite match the tone I'm aiming for. This leans more towards being a Crack fic than an NSFW one. Warning: This story contains suggestive themes but nothing explicit. Word Count: 2.8k

She lotioned up, fingers deftly twisting and knotting the towel around her body to keep it from slipping. Annoying groans echoed in the humid tiled space as she struggled to finish her routine while maintaining modesty and not taking up too much space.

"Holy Sheena," a voice called from her right, making her turn around hastily.

"What?" she responded.

Hange walked closer, seeming less concerned about covering up after coming out of the shower. "Those bruises... tell Shorty he's supposed to fuck you, not try to kill you," they joked.

She sighed intently and found the well-marked fingertips around her hips, washing away marks around her wrists and the obvious hickeys and bite marks on her inner thighs and lower collarbone to conceal them from daily life. Y/N couldn't help but chuckle.

"Forgot I had those," she commented, momentarily happy before furrowing her brow again. "I can't find anything here!"

The former HQ of the scouts lacked a pumping water system, everything (despite her boyfriend's attempts) smelled of mold and humidity. The place was freezing due to the tall ceilings and lack of proper insulation, especially in the middle of the forest where temperatures dropped the lowest. Having to shower there, under shaky candlelight, with buckets of water and a cup to pour it on her body was a nightmare.

"How could you forget?" Hange seemed less stressed about the shower situation, either because they had fewer steps in their routine or because they were less ashamed.

"I got used to it, and I usually don't share bathrooms, so no one can see me naked," she explained, searching among her personal hygiene items for the next step in her routine. "I forgot how impractical communal showers were."

"Ah, yes, because you and your hubby have all the space for yourselves," the brunette joked, making kissing sounds to annoy her further.

"You're just jealous that my love life is very active," she retorted.

"Don't point those fingers at me, save those assumptions for Erwin," Hange teased.

Their banter made her laugh and nod slightly in agreement. "Speaking of which, did he send you here to help with something?"

"Supervise a bit of the situation for him and fill out reports for the MPs and the military board," Y/N explained casually as she started to put on comfy clothes.

"So, basically... a conjugal visit so Levi doesn't get blue balls," They quipped.

Coughing loudly as the foam from the toothpaste made her choke in shock, she spat into the sink before looking up, blushing deeply. "HANGE!"

The squad leader chuckled, unfazed by the outburst. "Your marks tell me I'm right. You arrived last night, and he jumped on you like a beast in heat."

She scoffed, not saying a word as her mouth was still full of toothpaste. Frowning slightly at the squad leader and shooting them an askance look, but Hange didn't seem offended, taking the conversation lightheartedly.

As they finished their dental routines, Y/N was surprised by Hange's efficiency. They clearly had different notions of after-shower routines.

"Don't be so hard on him," Y/N defended her boyfriend tenderly as she rinsed the toothpaste residue. "He's stressed about the whole Titan boy situation. He needed to unwind."

Both walked out of the room lethargically, as if neither had anywhere urgent to be. "That's the excuse Shorty gave you? But if Eren is so meek around Levi..." Hange argued back between chuckles.

The empty corridors of the former HQ made her shiver, quickly losing the warmth of the shower as they strolled. When the name of the new cadet in Levi's squad was dropped, Y/N couldn't help but grimace and bite her bottom lip to hold back a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Hange asked.

"Nothing," she replied.

"Come on, just tell me!"

"Fine..." she relented, "but this stays between us."

"You know I can't promise that," Hange joked, indicating that juicy information wouldn't stay secret for long. "Just spit it out."

"I met Eren earlier today..." she began.

"Yeah, and?" Hange prompted.

Y/N's subtle, almost innocent blush didn't match her sassy chuckles. "He's hella cute."

Hange's loud gasp echoed in the empty hallways, prompting Y/N to hush them intensely. "You're a taken woman, Y/N!" the brunette argued, albeit without seriousness. "And... He's a kid. Have some decency, you creep."

"Hey!" Y/N quickly protested. "I never said I was going to sleep with him or something like that! Can't a girl admit when a boy is cute? I mean, did you see his eyes? He's going to be turning heads around here before you know it."

Hange chuckled, "If he survives..."

"What a depressing thought, Hange, for Sheena's sake," both continued walking. "Mark my words, he's going to be handsome and will have girls swooning over him."

"Including you?" Hange teased.

Y/N shook her head softly, regretting telling the squad leader about it. "I could teach him a thing or two," she joked back, earning a shallow laugh from her companion.

"Don't let Shorty hear you say that," Hange warned.

"I'm joking, I'm joking," she assured.

The heavy stone walls seemed to catch every little molecule of dust between the bricks as she swung the door open to the basement kitchen, probably designed to keep the cold temperature for food storage. Or perhaps it was an old castle, and the staff was secluded to the forgotten and unpleasant part of the architecture. Once inside, Petra and Eren were cutting potatoes while sitting on big, chipped wooden boxes.

"Hey," Y/N greeted, rubbing her arms over her clothes as the humidity and coldness of the place seemed to penetrate every piece of clothing. "The bathroom is free if you want to take a shower."

Y/N chuckled softly at her own words. "Well, 'shower' is a bold word for sitting down and throwing buckets of water on yourself," she clarified, jokingly.

Petra seemed to understand, smiled at Eren, and stood up to clean her hands before leaving. They were taking turns for showers, mostly because the former HQ lacked a water pumping system, so they had to fetch water early in the day. For showers, the water had to be warmed up by the stove and then carried to one of the rooms they had chosen as a bathroom. Neither room was ideal because of the wooden floors, but they made do.

She noticed the big, almost innocent eyes of the cadet looking up at her, both seemingly waiting for the other to make the next move. Eren continued with his task silently until she cleared her throat.

"So... have you taken a shower yet, Eren?"

"No, ma'am," Eren replied stiffly, making her scoff.

"You can call me Y/N," she said, taking a spot next to him on the box. "Here, let me help you, or we'll be having potatoes for dinner the day after tomorrow."

Her hands began to peel the potatoes with expertise. "You're good at this," he commented, looking down at his own pile and noticing a good part of the peel had taken the potato with it.

She chuckled, "Ugh, you know how many potatoes I peeled before I was promoted," she joked. "You're showering after dinner? Make sure to rinse the water out of your hair if you're going straight to bed; you might catch a cold otherwise."

Eren seemed surprised by the comment, or perhaps by the interaction overall. "Yes, ma'am," he replied with less self-assurance. "Captain Levi said the rest should go ahead, and then we'll go... I feel bad that he had to wait to take his turn because of me."

"You're showering with Levi?" she asked, entertained, cutting off a bit of the self-hate speech that the cadet was about to embark on. "You're not planning on stealing my man, are you?"

Oh, how quickly the blood rushed to his cheeks. It was priceless. "N-NO! I-I, no. I'll n-never," the poor boy began to stutter. She playfully patted his back while having a blast.

"Relax, Eren. I'm messing with you," she said between chuckles. "It's just a silly shower, sweetie. Levi goes to bed very late, so showering last doesn't affect him."

"But Oluo said–"

"Ohhh, please," she interrupted him again, rolling her eyes as she returned to her task of peeling potatoes. Momentarily pointing at him with the knife, as if to emphasize her point, she continued, "Do not listen to him. Oluo is like one of those very tiny little dogs. They bark and bark and may even bite more than a regular-sized dog, but they actually hold no power."

It was time for the cadet to have a short chuckle at her comparison. "Mr. Oluo isn't going to like that."

"Well, I'm higher in command than him so."

There was a brief calm silence as both of them continued to prepare dinner. "You're too nice to me, Squad Leader," Eren murmured, slightly ashamed. "The rest of Captain Levi's squad is nice too, but I can feel their fear..."

Y/N couldn't help but find it endearing, the little pout on his face. "Oh sweetie, I'm the one who brings the first paperwork of the day to Erwin, and sometimes I even have to wake him up. There's nothing you could do that could scare me after that," she said while reaching forward to pinch his right cheek while wrinkling her nose. "You're a cutie."

The side smile mixed with a not subtle blush that extended to his ears and the subtle shame in his eyes. Everything in his attitude screamed 'I'm not a girl or a kid, don't call me that.'

But that was exactly what he was in her eyes: a kid.

Clicking his tongue, cursing under his breath, he moved the shaking candle around, trying to find a good lighting spot against the old mirror while passing the razor close to his skin. The flame shook under the little insulation of the old rooms, and the humidity of the showers didn’t help as it rained little drops of condensation too close to it. Unlike Eren, who had finished showering and looked around ashamed, unsure how to even begin to dress up for bed without looking awkward (he could start by not standing still in the middle of the room), Levi seemed rather relaxed. Apparently, his only problem was shaving under that type of light.

The Captain looked over his shoulder, found the cadet looking as if he wished the earth could swallow him. “Come on, brat. We don’t have all night. Get dressed so I can take you to the basement,” Levi spoke up. “Don't be so tense. I cleaned the place myself.”

‘The cleanliness is not my problem,’ Eren thought to himself as he tried to carry on. But keeping the towel around his hips while trying to put clothes on that stuck to his humid body, nothing was going according to plan.

“I bet you shared showers in worse conditions at the training camps,” Levi kept his usual stoic face as he cleaned the residues of shaving cream from his face and carried on unaffected by the situation.

But Eren couldn’t unglue his eyes as soon as he noticed them. Yes, them. The red striking scratches down the back of his superior. Well-marked, five on each side decorating his shoulder blades. Eren swore he was trying not to pay them any mind, trying to remember to breathe or even to stop the saliva as his mouth hung open looking at them.

Levi mentioning the shared showers at the training camps didn't help. Because all he could hear repeating endlessly in his mind were the stupid conversations Reiner and Jean would have about the hypothetical chicks they were planning to lay with. How they throw their heads back as they moan your name. Their nails sinking in your back as you pounded into them.

‘Think of something else, Eren. Think of something else,’

“S-sorry,” he stuttered out a reply as the object he was picking up slipped from his clumsy hands, gathering his superior's attention, who was now staring at him as he kneeled to pick it up with his face as red as a tomato and nervous eyes.

Levi raised a silent eyebrow for a split second before slightly shaking his head, not giving it much thought. ‘Teenagers,’ he thought to himself while sighing.

Eren wished he could stop his own mind because it wasn’t just Reiner’s voice playing in his head but the created mental images of what he thought, in his inexperience, it looked like: his superior—no—his hero, fucking the sweet, caring woman who had just been peeling potatoes with him. Her hands that pinching his cheeks, sinking its nails into his squad leader’s back while moaning his name. Wrinkling his eyes closed, trying to erase the mental images as he could feel the blood pumping. ‘You’re not planning on stealing my man, are you?’ her voice echoing in the walls of his head, pumped lips and sultry eyes as she looked back at him playfully.

‘Think of something else!’

“What could you probably be thinking of?” Levi’s voice echoed as his worst nightmare. Had he said that out loud? This time Levi had turned around to face him, left hand resting on the sink as he had his trousers on but hanging loosely on his hips as he was halfway getting dressed. He didn’t seem friendly, and his dead glance demanded an explanation.

“Ehm- I,” Eren began to stutter, trying to find a logical explanation. His mind was racing miles per hour, how to explain. He was peeling potatoes, she made a joke, now he knows they are dating, Levi had his back scratched by her. She, her nails, her joke, her pretty lips—

“Y-Y/N,”

Ah- He shouldn’t have said that, but it was the first word that came to his mind.

“What?” Levi’s voice seemed to source from hell itself.

Heavy steps again on the floor, as he rushed back to his room. “Oi, where are you going so angry, shorty?” Hange rested against the wood frame while drinking a cup of tea. They had heavy under-eye circles and despite the dose of caffeine from their drinks, they seemed very lethargic.

“Tch, to talk to my girlfriend about not messing around with my subordinates,” Levi had a heavy frown on his face as his hair still leaked little drops of water. “I just had the most uncomfortable conversation with Eren,” Levi said between clenched teeth, barely modulating.

Hange chuckled while raising an eyebrow, blinking a couple of times. “Y/N told you she thinks Eren is a cutie? I’m surprised...”

Levi, who had never stopped facing down the hall to his room, not even when he began his conversation with the other squad leader, slowly turned around to face the brunette as he heard that with a clearly confused face that turned into a frown as the information sank in. “What?” he spat out.

Hange began to chuckle as they feared that they had misunderstood, “Ha ha... didn’t you say you had an uncomfortable conversation about Eren?”

“Clean up your filthy ears or go to sleep already, four eyes,” the captain said calmly before clarifying, “I said a fucking uncomfortable conversation WITH Eren.”

“Now, tell me what the hell you meant by that and make it quick because I already stood in a leaky bathroom for easily half an hour hearing Eren stutter apologize after he said my girlfriend’s name with a fucking hard on.”

Observing out of the window as she admired how calm the deep forest was at the former HQ. It was rather cold, but she had only her nightgown on, a sheer translucent piece of cloth. The door of the room swung open, revealing an extremely angry Levi. He shut his door close and walked up to her.

“What's gotten into you?” She questioned, confused. But before she could even reply, he was grabbing her face, pressing her cheeks together, and slightly raising her face to have it inches away from his.

“You’ve forgotten your manners. I’ve been too soft with you,” Levi groaned, “First of all, you don’t go around playing cheeky with my subordinates.”

She could feel the tug from his grip, pressing her closer as her hands touched his arm. Breathing heavily, humming a moan at his words. “Second, you truly think you could have a brat like him when I can already tell you’re dropping with the idea of me teaching you your place again?”

“Lev-”

“Your next words should be ‘Yes, sir’ if you know what's good for you,” he let go of her face just to slap her ass, “Go to bed and ass up, baby girl.”

She moved excitedly in the direction he indicated but turned around as she bit her bottom lip, watching as he grabbed a belt from his uniform, “and that?” she asked curiously.

“To make sure I’m the only one who leaves marks behind.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

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troublesh00terfaery · 1 year

Text

BELOW 18 PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT. THIS WORK IS NSFW! KEEP OUT!

[THIS WORK IS PURELY FICTION]

[One Shot] (or not, thinking of making a part two for this)

[Alhaitham x AFAB! Reader]

Words: 6.8k

Synopsis: ah well, experiments can quite lead to either expected results or something unexpected. don't you agree?

Tags: AFAB! Reader, teasing, breeding (we doing it raw for him), voyeurism, just kinky sex with this man what else? anal, creampie, a looooottt of sex, making a movie with him, well guess it's valentines for you this night with him :D

A/N: I'm gonna have to be honest with y'all, this smut made me realize I still have my unholiness within me and it's HOLY WEEK! anyway, starting to question if I should make a part 2 (seriously thinking this is okay as a one shot). Let me know in the comments. I'm also thinking of making a playlist while you guys read this, will probably open a yt account very soon as I have already have the list of songs! did not thoroughly proofread so my bad.

FOLLOWING, REBLOGGING, INTERACTIONS, AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED

Being a student under the Amurta Darshan wasn't a joke, and the other Darshans can say as well with their respective schools. Before graduating under their respective house, one must comply a special research in order to finish. Of course, being an Amurta student, research isn’t new to you nor to them as well considering the demands of research in the biological and medical field is rising.

Recently, a type of fungi has emerged in the rainforests of Sumeru. It was a great variable for research, yes, however with little to no information with regards to the new species of fungi, one must analyze and observe the organism intricately. Some of the Amurta students felt overwhelmed of studying something unknown and new however the new biological specie sparked interest in you that gathering and studying it wasn't of a big deal considering the Sage has given the graduating students time with their research.

You took the interest of how this mushroom might affect an individual if consumed. Very cliche however if taken into a researcher's perspective, it isn't. Considering of the possible harm this specie might cause if ingested. Nah, it didn't scare you. You just happen to be that curious considering of the hearsays you often hear among the localities. Peculiar, most of them saying.

It would appear that it does somehow look like a sea ganoderma that is abundant in Inazuma that bloomed near the beaches and shores however these fungi have bloomed in damped areas in the deep forests of Sumeru. The color of this fungi might be different from the usual ganoderma as it was the color of light purple. It did somehow secrete a transparent and mucilaginous fluid with a sweet odor.

Quite a strange description that even at times you smile whilst gathering its viscous fluid for examination.

"Are you even sure about this one? You're genuinely scaring me." Kaveh, who happens to be your closest friend and a student from Akademiya under the Darshan of Kshahrewar, was one of the test subjects for your research. He is a year ahead of you, making him your senior. "Am I your lab rat again?"

"Not just you, I'm also going to drink it myself to test it out and see if there are any notable changes or changes in an individual if one drinks this concoction."

You watched your boiling flask create boiling bubbles and watched it disperse as you used a stirring rod. "Don't use the word 'lab rat' that just sounds so unethical."

Kaveh's scared and nervous demeanor was obvious that he took a deep breath before he went off ranting.

"What am I supposed to call myself? What am I supposed to do if this weird witchy-like potion of yours kill me? Kill you? KILL US?! goodness research is inevitable among us students but this is jeopardizing us, my dear Y/N!"

"It won't!" You snickered and tried to comfort him by keeping a straight face. "Besides I did try to use it as an alternative fertilizer and spray it on my Sumeru roses."

You pinpointed a pot just below your study table. "It quite bloomed quickly and as you see. It did sprout new buds in almost 2 weeks only so I can write in my observations that it can be a great fertilizer if used."

"It's a plant, Archons sake! It looks lewd too!"

"It is, I will not lie!"

He drew his nose closer to the fungi. "Strange but it does smell good, sweet and flowery. For a fungus, it is weird."

You spent your afternoon trying to convince Kaveh to say yes to your research. In the end he eventually said yes to you as you have persuaded him that it was safe. Both of you agreed to drink it after two days and another follow up take in of the concoction to see if there are any differences.

Two days have passed and it was the time to finally test out the mixture you have prepared. Along with you was a small briefcase that was filled with your apparatuses needed. Of course, like they say: it's better to be prepared. At exactly 7:00 in the evening, as agreed by you and your friend, you must meet him at his house.

Or his friend's house rather.

Of course, you were aware that he was indeed a freeloader inside nonother than Alhaitham's house but he assured you that during that time the Akademiya's scribe isn't present during those times considering that he's been busy the past few days.

To you, there's nothing special about Alhaitham. Rather than being the scribe and an introverted Haravatat student.

Well, he's quite good looking and somewhat that annoyed you. He somehow did radiate as someone with god complex and if ever the end of world happens, he's gotta be one of those people who will AND WILL survive.

You have arrived 10 minutes early of the said time but it seems that Kaveh is late for 10 minutes. Until it became 20 and 30 minutes late. At first it was bearable however you couldn't waste time anymore. You wanted to finish your research just like any other students.

"I can't believe he's pissing me off. He told me he'll be early." You stood up and knocked three times.

"Kaveh? It's me. It's already 7:30 in the evening and you're not opening the door. Open it!" The annoyance dripping from your tone like acid.

You knocked again. No response.

Another four more knocks and calling his name. No response.

Fuck, Kaveh what's the matter with you? Come out.

Another final succession of knocks and still no response.

You gave up attempting to knock and call his name. It was either: he was just hiding from you because it did genuinely scare him or he wasn't really there. But he couldn't lie to you, you both agreed to testing out the mixture.

"Alright, whatever. Loser."

Heaving a sigh, you stepped back from the door and murmured a few words before accepted defeat and just before you walk away, you happen to stumble something strong and tall from behind and you could immediately tell that it wasn't Kaveh. Your head against a chest.

You slowly lifted your head and greeted the face of nonother than Akademiya's scribe.

"If you knock like that, you'll surely destroy my door." He lowered his gaze to match yours with a rested expression.

Oh, it is indeed Alhaitham. It is indeed him. Him. Oh.

Oh...

Neither of you moved from that position for a while, both of you matching the gazes before you realized it was awkward and slowly lowered your head and made way for him and pretended to idle yourself by fixing your skirt. To be fair, he is really THAT attractive.

He ain't just gifted with intelligence but he knows he is THAT good looking and attractive.

"And what does this Amurta student doing in front of my house at this hour?" His arms slowly sliding to his pocket to get his keys. Tone monotone before skimming to the key for his door.

"I'm here for Kaveh." You took a grip on the handle of your case.

He opened the door and only answered 'hm.' Uninterested. He shifted his gaze at you leaned his toned body against the frame of the door.

"Did he somehow invite you here?"

You nodded and met his gaze before breaking it off.

"We both agreed to meet here."

"I assume it's for your research. Well, come inside. Don't want Kaveh to nag at me for not entertaining his visitor."

You came inside shortly following him. Upon entering, you couldn't help but to scan the house. There's nothing special to mention aside the paper works piled up in a table and scraps of paper under a desk and certain apparatuses that is used for measuring you assumed. It seemed to be Kaveh's side of table that it has be him, it was chaotic.

Closing the door, you immediately sat and primed yourself up in an not so familiar place. Alhaitham sat at the sofa just in front of you and observed you from head to toe before he inhaled. His back relaxed against the back rest of the sofa.

"So... out of all the possible participants you could've chose, you really picked him?"

"I don't see a problem a problem with him being my participant."

"And why is that?"

"It's my research, I get to choose who I want to be my participants."

He wasn't so sure if you were insulted by his questions but it did amuse him by the way you answered him directly with a soft tone.

"Sadly, he's not here."

"Seems so."

Both of your eyes now met and neither of you wanted to break it off. Seems like you already knew how bad your chemistry will be with him by just this interaction. Silence surrounded the room, not a single flinch from neither of you but the eye contact creating this tension between you and the scribe was barely tolerable that you wanted to break free from the contact.

But he didn't show any hesitancy to break off the connection of your gazes, in fact he would want admit he would see this as competition. It wasn't evident in his face but the way he cocked his head slightly to one side just showed how much of cunning asshole he is but it was attractive in a way, of course you couldn't deny it. Being cunning just adds to the list of attributes that just makes him attractive.

Uh well, yeah…

In return, you gave him a soft doe-look and a small smile. The scribe only gave you a small smile in return. Come to think of it, if waiting for Kaveh to return would be a waste of time for you and precious research then why not make him your first research?

"Say, considering that my friend is not here, how about you take his place instead?"

He raised his brow and crossed his arms. "Friend? and here I was thinking that you were dating. But he did mention a close friend." he scoffed.

"Hmm, people often think we’re dating but we’re not." you scoffed and let out a single giggle. “Kaveh’s good looking himself.”

"You're saying you're not good looking then?"

You gazed at him, smile wearing off before you pressed your lips together. "I didn't say anything."

You pressed your legs together as your hands clenched the hem line of your skirt. You lowered your gaze and tried to divert the topic. Your eyes went to look at your small briefcase.

With you little movements, he finds himself smiling at just how fragile yet collected at the same time you looked like. How you pressed those lips of yours that has the tiniest shine probably from your lip balm and the little tint of color pressed unto your plump lips.

'Cherry red? No probably that Tangerine wine... impossible. Peony red? Champagne pink? Too strong. Dewy peach? What else did I see from the market that sold those kinds of...balms'

"Ah, as I proposed a while ago, you can take Kaveh's spot." You paused.

He gave you a look to continue by giving you a small nod.

"It's about these fungi that out of nowhere grew at the rainforests of Sumeru. It was estimated to have grown two to four months ago where the weather condition was harsh yet perfect for cultivating these fungi to grow..." you got up to get your briefcase and showed him a glass box where the specimen of the fungi was stored.

You showed him the glass box before you slowly and carefully dragged one of the chairs to give the box a better and closer view to him and sat properly with an excited look. The expression you made just made him smile in the back of his head.

Just the way your breasts that hugged your white turtleneck sweater coordinated with every movement you made and how your thighs look plush as you sat at such...rather unconscious provocative manner. There's so much about you that keeps him wondering about you. What would such a girl, an Amurta student like you, keep this Scribe fixated at you. You were just, innocently charming that he couldn’t resist the thought of him doing--

‘What am I thinking, this is wrong’

"As you can see, it does look like a-"

"Sea Ganoderma, local from Inazuma. But the color is different, yes." He pulled the chair you were sitting just enough to be close to him, not breaking his gaze from you. Attentive.

"I can't see if you move your hands much. Stay still."

Now again, both of your gazes have started its connection again only this time it was closer. The gazing and whatever the fuck it was with your eyes and his eyes, it gave pause and silenced the whole room. The sudden closeness has made you tense a bit that you were taken a back.

"Okay?" He looked at your surprised, lost, and doe eyed look that made you look innocent.

You responded with a small nod and a sheepish tone. “’Kay,” a tint blush forming in your cheeks.

He didn’t move to his usual position. He stayed like that exactly and gave you a signal to continue with your details by him giving you a small nod. At first, you were hesitant considering the space he ate up just to get a closer look to you and the box you had. But you didn’t have to waste time so you went on with your detailing.

You described to him its delicious scent despite having a peculiar anatomy. You showed him your paper works as to the recorded data of how it also affected the Sumeru roses you had in your room.

“You conduct laboratory observations in your room?”

“What? the biology laboratory is already packed with students with their specimens. It might affect mine as well.”

“And you think that your room couldn’t affect the variables then? Hm?”

Furrowing your brows, you scoffed. He was indeed correct. The location was indeed part of the variables to be considered that might affect the status of your fungus. That was one of matters that you missed out and it somehow annoyed as out of the person that could’ve corrected you, it would be him.

“Seems like you missed some points to be noted for your research then, Miss Y/N?”

You stood up, randomly gave him the box, and took your briefcase to get to concoction you prepared. You didn’t see any need of explaining the details to him, seems like he already knows your stuff. You showed two him two test tubes with the same length of the concoction. Alhaitham observed you.

Your back facing him as you tend your mixture into another separate glasses. His right-hand skimming through the edges of the box, fingers delicately feeling the edges and surface of the box and not taking his eyes off you. There again, his curiosity taking over with just the sight of you that it somehow intrigued and annoyed him. He slowly opened the box and there he smelled the pungent smell of something gourmand and flowery and yet something of earthy at the same time.

He couldn’t understand what smell it was but somehow it was lulling him.

The silence slowly rang your ears and the pressure between the time and how quiet the room is made you feel heavy. You felt yourself jittery that after a while of his presence and darting eyes from behind you. The night was windy and you can only hear the slow chimes of the door charm and the gentle tings and tacks of the glass. A few moments have passed, you can only hear him grunt and clearing his throat.

“Is something the matter?” You looked at him only to find him resting his left hand to the hand rest of the sofa, palms covering his face whilst his right hand toying the box and seems to play with the lid of the box.

“How’s the smell?” You took each test tubes and went over to him, sitting at the same seat you were just in front of him and took a deep breath. “Now all you have to do it drink this concoction with me if there are any notable changed it will happen to a person who ingested it. Don’t worry, like I said you’ll be drinking—”

“Are you serious? This already makes my head ache, the smell. You think I’ll drink that?”

“You’re drinking it with me. I only need the data.”

He looked at you, his brow raising. “What makes you think I’m going to drink that.”

You looked away, not knowing what are the possibilities too. If you ever come up with using the data of plants, he’ll find an argument just to cease your experiment. You held unto your test tubes and faced him. Doe eyes showing desperation and pleading.

“Please, Alhaitham. I’ll do whatever you want. I just need the data…” You didn’t care at this point, you’re never the type to agree to doing whatever the person wants but if it’s Alhaitham, well there would be no problem at all. “Please?”

Looking at your little parade of innocence and desperation, he couldn’t help but to hate himself by letting his inner thoughts run through his system. The way you held the test tubes on each hand of yours enthusiastically a while ago and how you lowered it down to rest to your thigh. How your thumb caressed the glass surface, how your lips pressed before biting your lower lips in frustration causing it to darken its color. Your eyes asking for an answer, and voice soft. You looking so irresistibly delicious to pounce at.

Just you, being this little sweet lamb that he couldn’t just resist.

“Please, Alhaitham. Please?”

Fuck. Fuck is happening to me?

“Fuck this.” He cursed under his raspy breath, clearing his throat yet his brows furrowed. Before he adjusts himself in his seat by leaning back and bucking his hips up. “Look, at least if there is any possibility that we will die, at least I die with you and your silly little experiments for your silly little research. Got it, you silly girl?"

The enthusiasm back once again in your face. You smiled at him and nodded a couple of times. You instructed him for a few reminders to take note. The two lines that were labeled in each glass signified the amount of mixture was to be ingested.

In a count of 3 you both drank together. The smell of the concoction was lessened however its scent note was still there. Both of you didn’t move, your eyes focusing on the paper and your pen. Alhaitham on the other hand is busy with minding his books.

A few moments have passed a slow tingling heat started to surge in your body. The heat surging inside your body was slow yet everywhere. At first you thought it was just your sweater so did not pay no mind however as time passed, you realized that it starting to get warm and hot. It was making your head dizzy and sweat. You tried to cool yourself by fanning with your hands.

It was a cold evening, a reason why you wore your turtleneck to warm you up yet it seems that it's getting a little hotter. You started to fan yourself with your palms. From fanning yourself to using the loose cloth of your polo neck to fan your chest loosen up. Everything happening right now wasn't anything you expected to be.

Ways... ways... ways... ways to distract myself... what is this? I need to distract myself? Is it too hot here?

You suddenly remembered the paper you were supposed to fill with the initial observation of the first dose of the concoction. Upon looking at it, you felt lightheaded and almost felt like you were slowly floating.

While you were drafting random bullshit in your paper, Alhaitham on the other end felt the same sensation in your body. He was either thinking it was the effect of the pungent scent of the fungus or the mixture you just gave him. His head started to spin and a surge of heat in his body roamed his system. A storm inside him that just felt that it would never end nor calm down. He needed to compose himself, a simple concoction cannot just simply make him feel bizarre.

Alhaitham wanting to stop the chaos suddenly stood up to find his headphones. At times, he would resort to just playing music in his headphones to block noise or just randomly wear it to make it seem that he's does not want to interact.

He just wanted to have and wear it yet his body betrayed him the moment he stood up. His eyes slowly blurring and his legs felt no life made him weak. Just right after passing by after you, he fumbled. Tripping just the moment he passed at the table, falling. A few of your apparatuses falling included some of the unloaded test-tubes and a single tube with viscous and thick liquid inside spilled at his chest, left arm, and the crotch part of his pants.

"Archons…” he whispered, feeling a pang of defeat as he sat at the floor and tried to wipe the excess mixture.

The commotion startled you as you started to fill up the details of the paper. You quickly took action and assisted the young man. Taking a handkerchief from your pocket of your skirt you started to wipe the mess on his chest.

He was wearing his usual dark off-coat that hugged his chest. You couldn't help to get distracted at the little intricate gem that was in his sternum.

Slowly... slowly... you were being lulled again. Like an effective hypnosis it seemed like you were in a haze that you couldn't understand. You couldn't even control your body. The heat was all over your body.

The way you started to simply just mess up instead of cleaning it was a sign that the aphrodisiac took over your senses. You were so distracted and helpless. Everything about this man in front of you was like a need and a want of your body and soul.

Alhaitham felt the same.

The tension, the spark, the need, the hunger to just own you was evident yet he didn't want to be consumed by it. There was this resistance of him and the more he forced to neglect the feeling, the stronger the urge wave his body.

He felt weak and he didn't like that. It was too much yet you kept fueling the fire that he was suppressing. At this very moment, he wanted to breed and own you. A mixture of aggression and lust now surging.

"Haitham..." you dragged a fingertip to his intricate gem that was at his sternum and pressed your thighs as you dragged, fingertips feeling the shape of his gem. It made him hitch his breath, an irregular breath and a painful erection as he got indulged by your little play.

“Get up.”

No response.

“Y/N…”

“I should’ve known, this was an aphrodisiac. A strong one—Fuck, Y/N.” He threw his head as he saw you press your pretty lips against his gem, pecking it before looking at him with doe-fuck-me-till-i-break eyes.

“Haitham…”

“Get up, Y/N…” his voice croaked “Or else we’re going to have to fuck the whole night.” He cupped your cheek, feeling the heat of your skin.

“Haitham, too hot…” you lowered your jacket until it reached your elbow, exposing the tight turtleneck top you wore that happily hugged your mounds and figure. Innocently provoking him. "...hot" you murmured and held his hand that cupped your cheek. Now the back of his hand slimy with the mixture and looking back at him with lust-heart eyes.

"Yeah, you and I won't be going to class tomorrow."

And just like that?

Just like that. It was enough to push him to the edge.

Sloppy kisses, hitched and panting breathes, desperate rutting, and slapping of skins reverberated his whole room. There was only one thing on both of your minds: to fuck.

"H-Haitham~!"

To fuck until you couldn't do it anymore. Breed and fill you up to the brim until his seed spilled out your tired plush pussy.

Your moans were getting louder and louder as you felt another succession of orgasm reaching to you. A hollow feeling started to build up inside you and his cockhead adding up to the climatic feeling as he abused your soft spongy cervix, desperately wanting to push it further and deeper.

Alhaitham unconsciously made people feel small without doing nothing. It was probably his reputation and how cunning he is, he had his ways just to get what he wants.And now definitely, he made you feel small. His length overwhelming you and your insides. The way it made you feel stuffed and full inside and how he's just towering above you. Hands clasped on your ass and carried your weight was he pressed you against the wall and rutted violently.

He kept his mouth busy by marking your chest and neck and desperately sucked on your peaks. He felt the need to breed you and fill you up with his cum.

The constant hitting of your cervix and the rough ministration made you squirm and groan. Your walls pressuring and pressing tightly against his cock signaled him that you were close. Your legs now wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. He can feel how wet your spongy walls.

"Gonna cum... Ah~! Haitham! Gonna cum-"

"Yeah? Gonna cum again?" He chuckled. "Fuck-- you're getting too loud- Mhn~!" He pressed against yours as he maintained his pace, not changing it. He felt that he was getting near too and that excited him.

Your walls spasmed and legs trembled as you reached your climax, Alhaitham chucked as he changed his pace before he pulled out making you squirt from the intense punishing of your cunt.

"Haitham—" you hitched your breath, heart beating fast as you squirted again. Alhaitham looked down as he watched you make a mess and that just made him hard enough and drive him to make your squirt again. He violently pushed his cock again inside and started to rut and roughly pulling it out making you buck your hips up and squirt again.

"Haitham please~ oh~!"

a slower one so you could have your moment before he continued his pursuit to seek his high. He changed his pace again, a faster one. A rough and fast one.

His tip now teasing your spot that made you tremble again. His cock made your pussy sing for a couple of times now. He had been breeding your pussy since and the both of you couldn't have enough, a never-ending high and feeling of wanting to release.

"Fuck, gonna fill you up-" he panted, rested his forehead against yours, making him watch the little show: your pussy eating him whole and forming a little bump as he entered. "Your pussy's the best!"

With one final thrust, he came inside you. Rutting and violently spasming as he filled your abused hole the 4th time tonight.

Time:10:30 PM

Recorded data (written): none

Recorded through Kamera data: none, battery level at 90 percent.

It was the fifth time tonight. Now he's fucking you from behind, your chest and the side of your face pressed against the wall as well as both of your palms. Alhaitham drilling his thick and veiny cock inside your spongy and abused walls. Your moans are getting louder again and he was fascinated the way you just came over and over because of his cock. You kept soaking and drenching his dick with your pussy juice. It started to make sloppy noises whenever he pushed in and out. You started to cream again, forming a ring on the base of his cock.

"You feel so good, Alhaitham~!" You moaned, feeling his tight grip against your beautiful hips and created crescent marks as he slammed his cock back and forth.

"Fuuuck this pussy is mine-- fuck fuck fuck--" he groaned, he took his left arm and wrapped his left palm to your neck and slowly pulled it making you arch your back and head hitting his shoulder. He slowly guided his palm that wrapped your neck to your jaw and continuously rutted. Now you can clearly hear his groans and panting.

He hammered his cockhead again and felt your spongy and plush cervix making him push his cock deeper as he came inside you again. He covered your cervix with his thick cum.

Time: 12:50 AM

Recorded data (written): none

Recorded data through kamera: Data recorded, battery level at 75 percent

"Didn't realize you had your kamera with you." He chuckled turning the camera on as he gazed at your body. Tired and a mess, cum dripping out from both of your pussy and ass hole. Saying that he liked it was an understatement, he loved it and seeing the mess you both made him harder. He realized that the slimy juice that it was a lubricant and the purpose of this fungi was an overall aphrodisiac with versatility.

"Haitham..." You called out his name, hoarse and small. You slowly opened your legs and revealed your aching and puffed cunt wanting for more. Alhaitham on the other hand set the kamera up just enough to get an angle of you and him in the frame together.

"Just for the data." He sighed, hoovering on top of you and pressing his lips against yours. Hands roaming around your waist before he positioned his cock again and decided teasing you. His cockhead teasing your puffy and abused entrance before he guided his length to your clit and gently pressed his head.

The pressure made you squirm and groan from his ministration. A few taps of his cockhead to your clit and a few pumping of his dick before he slowly reached out for your nape and raised it. Your weak body being supported by your wobbly elbows and your forehead against his.

"Put it in…" you hissed at him and brows furrowing.

"Not so polite are we?" Slowly inserted half his length making the excitement in your stomach rise up again and his hips buckle. "Say it, princess."

"Please put it in, please please please~" you plead with look of longing.

With a smirk, Alhaitham slowly pushed his cock inside you and guided his hand that held your nape and lowered it for you to watch him get inside you. He pushed until his head was greeted by your cervix but oh, he didn't stop there.

He slowly pushed further making you moan from the pressure of wanting to push further.

"Haitham--too deep~! Ahh~!"

Alhaitham couldn't resist to smirk while he looked at your eyes roll back and legs quivering. You just got this man hooked with your pussy and beauty.

"Cumming already?" he teased as he started to move his hips in a piston like pace.

Time: 3:33 AM

Recorded data(written): none

Recorded data through Kamera: Data recorded, battery level at 11%

"Too tired, Haitham…" you whined.

You took a pause for a moment as you felt your legs wobble and strain a pain from grinding him. Him buried deep in your ass wasn't on the menu but who would've thought that you both

would enjoy it. You rested your palms on both of his thighs and rested your back against his hard chest and took another deep breath as you started to bounce on his dick again. It was slow yet deep, something that made Alhaitham groan and hiss.

"I know, baby…" he chuckled as he saw you in action again. "…just can't get enough of you."

Talk about having three of your holes stretched out in a single night. You couldn't count how many times have he came inside your pussy and mouth and now he just discovered about the pleasure of having his cock buried deep inside your ass.

"So goood~ So deep~!" you whined, biting your lower lip and continued to bounce on his dick. It was sloppy and it was thanks to his cum and the lube combined together and oh, he loved to see the his cum and the lube together forming strings in your ass cheeks and asshole and making sloppy and erotic sounds each time you bounced on it.

He noticed your bouncing started to slow down until you stopped again, making him chuckle. He kissed your shoulder blade and whispered "Sofa."

Alhaitham helped you stand up and walked towards the sofa where you faced the arm of the sofa and rested your arms on it.

"Ass up," Alhaitham took his cock and slowly pushed it inside your ass again making you moan from stretching your whole with his size. "So b-big~" You rolled your eyes as he let a final push to burry it deep.

A sting left your right ass cheek when he slapped it and groping both cheeks, slowly making a move again. It started slow until it was fast and deep. Alhaitham took both of your arms and held it from behind, penetrating deeper and making you bend over forward.

Balls slapping against your clit making you moan louder. You were so lulled by his dick you didn't even realize that you have classes today. Same goes to Alhaitham and he could feel his climax reaching as well and with one final push deep, he came inside you.

Time: 6:30 AM

Recorded data(written): none

Recorded data through Kamera: none, kamera has shut down. battery at 0%.

"Thank the fucking Archons I have bought my keys-" Kaveh scanned his pocket to check if his keys were really in his pocket which of course is there. He hurriedly scanned the keys.

"Key key key- Archons where the fuck is that key!"

The little commotion just outside Alhaithams abode made the scribe awake. He was a light sleeper, it was enough to awake him since he knew this voice and tone so well it annoyed him early in the morning. Alhaitham was about to rise when he heard your small groans making him look at his chest.

The little commotion just outside Alhaitham's abode made the scribe awake. He was a light sleeper, it was enough to awake him since he knew this voice and tone so well it annoyed him early in the morning. Alhaitham was about to rise when he heard your small groans making him look at his chest.

There you were sleeping. Your once peaceful face grunted when Kaveh shouted another curse and that hit Alhaitham.'

'We fucked.' he said into himself. His brain was somewhat still foggy from last night and he could feel his worn out muscles. He heaved a sigh as to trying to figure what to do with you still sleeping while his roommate is already making his head hurt from his cursing and loud voice. Fragments of what happened last night made him groan especially when he saw the Kamera faced at them. Did it bother him? Well, he simply ignored it. He knew it was down but he knew it recorded some. Probably gonna check it out later.

"We're late for class," he whispered and gently stood up when you were awoken from his movements and the noise Kaveh made. Alhaitham didn't move another muscle and hoped you would just sleep but turns out you were trying to keep yourself awake by rubbing your eyes when you faced him.

"Alhai…" you then lowered your gaze and finally realized that you were in his bed NAKED. "…tham."

"It's okay, you should lie down and rest." he looked at your face before scanning your body. Bruises, marks, flushed face, and…

"my body hurts." you whispered, feeling a bit conscious when he started to scan your body. You covered it with his blanket and looked away.

…sore body. Alhaitham hid a somewhat victorious ghost smile and sat on the edge of the bed, the blanket barely covering his waist. His back was facing you and you noticed

The red marks on his back that somehow looked like a…

"Scratch?" you whispered again with your soft hoarse voice. Alhaitham heard, his right arm reaching his back before facing you. "I thought it was implied that Akademiya students shouldn't have long nails?" he looked at your fingers to see an opal-colored nail polish with your nails with just the right length and round shape which you quickly hid from him.

He looked at your figure again making him gaze at you intently, eyes piercing before he looked away and faced the wall. He palmed his face when he realized his morning wood is up and is in dire need of attention. Morning woods are normal to him every morning but this?

He shrugged off the want to feel your pussy walls in him again but Archons it did want him to feel that again. He stood up and got his brief and boxers and wore it. He took a new off coat from his cabinet and handed it over to you which you accepted. "Or would you like a sweatshirt instead?"

"This is already fine, thank you." you couldn't look at him, he was barely dressed and his body is too beautiful and distracting, stimulating you to think about irrational and unholy thoughts. Pray the archons none of them actually reads your mind.

You took the well folded and newly laundered cloth and looked at it. Your mind was still hazy and foggy making Alhaitham think you actually didn't know how to wear them. He took a sweatshirt from his cabinet and sat beside you.

"Seems like you forgot how to wear clothes I suppose."

"No…"

He didn't listen, he took his sweatshirt. "Get dressed, we're eating breakfast."

As much as you wanted to, you just felt that your body was that tired and just gave him a helpless look. "Haitham… need help. I feel sore."

Another sigh, Alhaitham took the blanket and revealed your body again. Plush thighs with marks, beautiful mounds with marks on your under boobs and some on your waist. Your neck and color bones decorated with his marks. Seems like he enjoyed his self quite too much last night he admitted. He gulped and helped you get clothed.

He then gazed at you.

"Don't look at me like that. Those eyes of yours" clenching his jaw, he looked at you again with piercing gaze.

"Look at you like?"

He came closer to you, gently wrapping his one arm all over your waist and pulling you close to him while he rested his back on the bed frame. He left kisses again on each mark he left on your neck and gently raised his sweatshirt you wore.

You softly whimpered from his actions, eyes closed and hands wrapped on his neck. Just as about he was about to leave another mark…

"Alhaitham open the fucking door, I have something to get!" Kaveh's frustrated voice and loud knocks made you hitch your breath. "Alhaitham! Damn it you Scribe! open!"

"Haitham…" You looked at him but he doesn't seem to mind Kaveh's wanting to break the door. He nibbled on your left nipple and gropped on your right breast while he looked at you. He started to suck on in it slowly and closed his eyes, alternating his sucking from your left nipple to your right.

Kaveh's knocks were getting loud and you were already telling Alhaitham that you should hide but oh, Alhaitham has better plans.

"Dude open the door, Archons!"

Alhaitham stood up and wore his shorts before he gently carried you like a bride as he went to the door. Truth is, you didn't know what Alhaitham's plan was. All he did was give you his stoic look before smiling devilishly while he draped you with his coat. You wrapped your arms around his neck to hold onto him.

Alhaitham finally opened the door.

"Thank Archons you actually opened-"

Kaveh's voice dropped as what he saw. Alhaitham gave him his usual stoic face as he gave you a nudge. You slowly looked at Kaveh with a flushed and embarrassed look.

"Come in." Alhaitham spoke. "Best not to leave your keys behind again." The sarcastic remark from Alhaitham dripping all over his tone.

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commanderyes · 3 months

Text

The Commander Says Goodbye

I’m not going to lie, I’m extremely anxious as i’m writing this, out of what these news could mean to a lot of people, and my heart feels heavy enough it could drop down my ribcage any minute from now and squish all my other organs. But I’ve been dancing around this topic for a long time now, and I think i’ve finally reached a point where i can’t ignore it anymore, for my own sake.

I hereby announce Commander Yes has come to an end.

As I’ve mentioned plenty of times before, here and to many other people, when I began this comic all the way back in 2018 I was in a really bad, really low place in my life in every sense of the word, and it was a spur-of-the moment decision to cheer myself up, because Path of Fire had just released and my enjoyment of the game had reached fever pitch and I had been playing Guild Wars 2 alone since as far as launch, and none of my other friends had ever really gotten into it. I guess I just, dunno, cried out into the big maelstrom of the community, one voice amidst millions, because i wanted SOMEBODY to look at what i did and revel in the nerdery with me.

And somehow the snowball began to roll and people wanted more and more of what I could do, and I was being actively reached out to, and, well, some time after that I landed my first ever job, I discovered a lot of things about myself, and I found myself in communities that welcomed me with open arms, and many of the people in there have since become among the best friends I could’ve possibly encountered, kindred souls who i’ve shared joys and sorrows for many years and who I can’t imagine living without anymore.

And all the while I kept making the comics, and with every entry posted every week I’d keep having people stopping to comment on them, and whether they were dumb jokes or personal takes on the story, they’d all share how much what I do kept hitting them in the kokoro, and to this day whenever I play anywhere in the game I still get people who recognize me and thank me for doing what I do. It was wonderful, it IS wonderful, and seeing that response motivated me to keep going, because what did still mattered to people, out there.

But I did always say I planned to keep doing these comics until I ran out of energy for them, and I think i’ve finally reached that point.

Because ever since I actually landed that job I’m exhausted and sleep-deprived every other day, so much so that I only have time to work on the comic on saturdays and sundays, and it gets harder and harder to just sit and draw, and at that point it was just more work, and while I still enjoy and play Guild Wars 2 a lot, it no longer consumes my time and attention like I’ve used to and i’ve been having fun with more personal projects, and honestly the direction the story is taking these days does not sit right with me and it’s hard to find inspiration in that, and this might be borderline selfish but every year I find people care less and less about the comics and it really takes a hit to you motivation when hardly anybody responds after you’ve spent a whole weekend trying to squeeze a five-page comic out.

And, well, I have been doing these for six years straight, and I think that’s a good run. I’m tired, and ready to move on, at long last. Let it be someone else’s turn.

But that’s the beautiful thing about this community, isn’t it? Even if I’m hanging up the hat, there are a whole lot of fantastic artists out there, as we speak, still cranking out works of art, deserving of all the attention they can get. And think of all the artists yet to come! For every story that ends, another story is just about to begin!

The world keeps on spinning, one way or another.

I’ll be closing my patreon shortly after this, but the reddit archives and tumblr blog shall remain for people to browse whenever they feel like (or until they both go in flames, i guess, what social media isn’t about to these days)

I still don’t think I ever was that much of a big deal, but all the same, to everyone who’s ever supported me and helped me be the person I am right now, to everyone who’s been there from the beginning, to all the devs of this game that has captured us for nearly a decade now, to all my fellow players and artists out there

Thank you.

See you out there, fellow commanders. Still the stars find their way.

#guild wars 2 #guild wars 2 fan art #guild wars 2 fan submission #snargle gutslurper #commander yes #that's all folks #thank you for everything #keep loving yourselves okay? you're worth it #all of you #see you in the game :)

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 month

Text

Unexpected Trip

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Some people think you're too good for Bucky, who they see as just a nobody. Little do they know the backstory of both of you from 5 years ago.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you!" The cheery chorus filled the sunny garden as friends and neighbors gathered around. Balloons bobbed in the breeze, and the table was adorned with a colorful array of treats.

Your son, Tommy, was wide-eyed with wonder at the commotion, his little hands clapping together with glee.

You knew he was too young to remember this day, but the joy on his face was enough to make every moment worthwhile.

Bucky, your husband, stood beside you, a proud smile on his face as he watched Tommy's excitement. "Can you believe he's already three?" you said, leaning over to Bucky, who nodded, his eyes never leaving Tommy.

"I know, it feels like just yesterday we were bringing him home from the hospital," Bucky replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "Time really does fly."

As Tommy blew out the candles on his cake, the guests cheered, and Bucky wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "I'm so glad we decided to have this party," he said, planting a kiss on your cheek. "Even if he won't remember it, we will."

You smiled, feeling grateful for this moment of togetherness. "Me too," you said, watching Tommy's delighted face. "Here's to many more birthdays filled with love and laughter."

As you, Bucky, and Tommy were lost in your own world of celebration, the neighbors, known gossips of the neighborhood, couldn't resist whispering among themselves.

"I heard she got promoted to become the Director," murmured Mrs. Jenkins, a woman known for her keen interest in everyone's business, her eyes darting over to where you and Bucky stood.

Mrs. Thompson, a perpetually nosy neighbor, chimed in eagerly, "Wow, I knew she's a career woman since the first time I met her." Her voice carried a tone of admiration mixed with a hint of envy.

Standing nearby, Mr. Wilson, a retired gentleman with a penchant for spreading juicy tidbits, leaned in conspiratorially. "And she has a perfect house-husband," he added with a knowing nod in Bucky's direction.

The fourth neighbor, Mrs. Patel, a woman with a sharp tongue and a love for scandal, couldn't resist joining the conversation. "I don't want to sound rude, but she's too good for Bucky. He's just a nobody," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Mrs. Jenkins leaned closer, her eyes widening with exaggerated shock. "And guess what?" she whispered, drawing the others in.

"What?" Mrs. Thompson asked eagerly, her curiosity piqued.

"I heard a rumor that Bucky used to be a driver, like a courier," Mrs. Jenkins revealed,l.

Mrs. Patel gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest. "Omg! And he met Y/N? He hit the jackpot!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as if she had just uncovered a scandalous secret.

Mr. Wilson chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I think in Bucky's previous life he saved a universe," he joked, adding to the whimsical nature of the gossip.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky remained oblivious to the whispers behind you, too engrossed in Tommy's joyous laughter as he played with his friends. Bucky had his arm around you, pulling you closer, unaware of the drama unfolding in the background.

Little did the gossiping neighbors know, they were 10% right, at least when it came to the part about Bucky saving someone.

You see, Bucky wasn't just a nobody. He wasn't just a regular driver. To be precise, it all goes back to five years ago.

5 Years Ago

You had just arrived in Russia, alone and shivering from the cold. This wasn't a holiday trip; it was for business.

Unfortunately, your luck had run out, and you were the chosen one sent by your less-than-friendly manager, who knew the bid was a long shot. You were the scapegoat.

It wasn't until you were on the plane, reading the documents, that the truth hit you like a ton of bricks.

Shaking with cold, you reached for your phone and dialed your colleague. "Is there someone to pick me up at the airport?"

"You've arrived? I almost forgot. I suppose someone should be waiting for you. Check to see if there's a sign with your name at the exit gate," came the reply before the call abruptly ended.

"Huh?" You couldn't believe it. The company had tossed you out like yesterday's news, leaving you stranded like a lost child in a foreign country.

"I swear, if I had a lot of money, I'd buy the company's shares and fire every single one of them," you grumbled to yourself, dragging your small suitcase behind you toward the exit gate, uncertain of what awaited you.

As you approached, you spotted a person holding a sign. You gathered your resolve and approached them, saying, "Hi, it's me."

You finally took a good look at the person holding your name sign. He was pretty tall and muscular for a driver, more suited to be a bodyguard.

With a swift motion, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into a nearby trash can. When you finally caught a glimpse of his face, you couldn't help but think, "Damn, he's fine."

He pointed towards your suitcase. "Is that all?" he asked, his voice firm but not unkind.

"Huh? Oh yeah," you replied, momentarily distracted by his good looks.

"Follow me," he said simply, then turned and walked ahead.

You hurried to catch up, feeling a mixture of confusion and intrigue. This wasn't the welcome you expected, but you followed him nonetheless.

After a quick walk, the two of you stopped in front of a black BMW. The design of the car felt straight out of the '90s.

"Get in," Bucky said, opening the backseat door.

You complied, noticing that your driver seemed to be a man of few words. "Um, what's your name?" you asked as you fastened your seatbelt.

"Bucky. Bucky Barnes," he replied, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he started the car.

Then, glancing at the rearview mirror, he added, "Always watch your back."

"What? What do you mean?" you asked, a hint of unease creeping into your voice.

Bucky shifted gears and increased the speed. "Just in case," he said cryptically, his focus on the road ahead.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of mystery surrounding Bucky. As the car smoothly glided through the streets of Russia, you couldn't help but wonder what kind of business you had genuinely stepped into.

Bucky glanced at you through the rearview mirror as the car continued its swift journey through the city. "You came here without knowing anything?" he asked, his voice serious.

"I knew that other countries also put a bid on this project," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing unease.

"True," Bucky acknowledged. "Do you know what kind of representatives the other countries sent here too?"

Your voice turned into a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the engine. "Not like me?"

Bucky's eyes flicked to the side mirror, noticing a few cars trailing behind them. " And they've arrived too," he confirmed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly.

Feeling a surge of panic, you turned around to look out the rear window. "Oh, shit," you muttered under your breath.

There was a group of cars following behind you both, and their windows opened. Someone appeared with a gun pointed at your car.

Bucky shifted gears again, the car picking up speed. "Don't bite your tongue, Miss Y/N," he said calmly, his focus unwavering on the road ahead.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you realized the gravity of the situation. The cars following them meant trouble; you were right in the middle. Gripping the door handle tightly, you braced for whatever was to come, grateful that Bucky knew what he was doing.

The chase was like something out of a movie, but the fear gripping your heart was all too real. The car Bucky drove was bulletproof, a small comfort in the chaos unfolding around you.

"KYAAA!"

Yet, despite the safety of the car, you couldn't shake off the primal fear that clawed at your chest. This was the first time you had ever found yourself in such a dangerous situation, and the adrenaline surged through your veins.

"Oh god, oh god," you muttered, your voice filled with panic as you clutched onto the door handle, your knuckles turning white.

Bucky, on the other hand, remained surprisingly calm. His hands moved expertly over the steering wheel, navigating through the narrow streets with precision. "Hold on tight," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos outside.

You could hear the sound of gunfire, bullets ricocheting off the car's armored exterior. The world outside seemed to blur as Bucky weaved in and out of traffic, the pursuing cars hot on your tail.

"What do we do? What do we do?" you pleaded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Bucky glanced at you briefly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Trust me," he said cryptically, before reaching for a button on the dashboard.

With a click, the back of the car transformed. Panels shifted, revealing an array of weapons hidden within. Your eyes widened in disbelief as a gun turret emerged from the rear of the car, whirring to life.

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, both terrified and amazed at the same time.

Bucky didn't hesitate. He maneuvered the car expertly, aligning the gun turret with the pursuing vehicles. With a press of a button, the turret unleashed a barrage of bullets, hitting the cars behind you with precision.

The sound of metal tearing and tires screeching filled the air as the pursuing vehicles swerved and crashed, their drivers no match for the firepower of Bucky's car.

You watched in awe and horror as the scene unfolded behind you, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. "I can't believe this," you whispered, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Bucky remained focused, his eyes scanning the road ahead. "Welcome to the world of high-stakes business, Miss Y/N," he said, his voice calm despite the chaos around you.

As you both sped away from the gunfire, the intensity of the moment left you breathless. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made you wonder how Bucky could remain so calm, and how his car seemed to be designed for situations like this.

"Bucky, are you really just a driver?" you asked, your voice filled with astonishment and curiosity.

Bucky, focused on the road ahead, replied without missing a beat. "Most of the time I work as a getaway driver."

"What?!" you exclaimed, unable to hide your surprise.

Bucky glanced at you briefly, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I have a few skills up my sleeve," he said cryptically, his eyes returning to the road as he expertly navigated the streets.

You panted heavily, trying to catch your breath after the intense chase. "Huff... huff... I have to win this damn bid. I almost lost my life. If I win, I will demand a promotion, and for you too, Bucky."

Bucky chuckled. "Thank you," he replied, his laughter mixing with relief as the moment's tension dissipated

Bucky glanced at you, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. "You know, Miss Y/N, I'm impressed," he said, his voice tinged with respect.

You looked at him, surprised by his words. "Impressed? Why?"

"Because even though you were scared out of your mind back there," Bucky explained, gesturing vaguely to the chaos that had just unfolded, "you still have the drive to win this bid. That takes courage."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, touched by his words. "Well, I don't want to go through all of this for nothing," you replied, a hint of determination in your voice.

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. "I understand. And I believe you have what it takes to succeed."

As the car continued on its journey, you felt a newfound sense of confidence swelling within you. Despite the danger and the unexpected twists, you were determined to make this business trip count. With Bucky by your side, you felt like you could take on anything that came your way.

"Thank you, Bucky," you said, gratitude evident in your voice.

He smiled, a reassuring presence beside you. "Anytime, Miss Y/N. We make a good team."

And at that moment, as the city lights blurred past the windows of the car, you knew that this business trip would be far more than just a bid. It would be an adventure, with Bucky as your unexpected ally.

🚗

After you won the bid, you demanded a meeting with the CEO and threatened to sue the company if you weren't promoted.

Asserting your worth, you stood firm, and the CEO eventually relented, granting you the promotion you rightfully deserved.

As you stood in the office, your evil manager and colleague before you, the air was charged with tension. They both wore expressions of surprise and disbelief, clearly caught off guard by your sudden assertiveness.

"Good afternoon," you began, your voice steady and firm. "I requested this meeting to inform you both that your employment with this company is terminated, effective immediately."

The evil manager scoffed, a hint of arrogance in his voice. "You can't do that. You're just a new employee."

You met his gaze, unwavering. "Actually, as of today, I've been promoted to a position where I have the authority to make such decisions."

The lazy colleague chimed in, who answered your call at the airport. Her voice laced with disdain. "This is ridiculous. You're letting power go to your head."

You shook your head, a steely resolve in your eyes. "No, this is about accountability and integrity. Both of you have demonstrated a lack of professionalism and ethics that is unacceptable in this company. And you make me go alone knowing that the trips was a high risk."

The evil manager tried to argue, but you held up a hand to silence him. "There's no need for further discussion. Your actions have consequences, and now you're facing them."

With that, you handed them their termination letters, each neatly printed with the company seal. The evil manager's face turned red with anger, while the evil colleague's eyes widened in shock.

"This is unfair!" the evil manager shouted, his voice filled with outrage.

You remained calm, unfazed by his outburst. "It's the consequences of your own actions," you replied firmly.

Othrr colleague tried to plead for another chance, but you stood your ground. "I'm sorry, but this is non-negotiable," you said, your tone resolute.

As they gathered their things and left the office, the weight of their absence felt like a burden lifted from their shoulders. You watched them go, feeling a sense of relief and empowerment.

🚗

One day, the memories of Russia tugged at your heartstrings, and you found yourself longing to return, this time for a personal visit to see Bucky. With determination, you booked a flight and arrived at his apartment.

Bucky greeted you warmly, a smile spreading across his face. "Miss Y/N," he said with genuine happiness.

"Bucky," you replied, matching his smile. "I couldn't resist coming back to see you."

You smiled, feeling a rush of excitement and nervousness. "I wanted to thank you," you began, gratitude filling your voice. "For everything. You were there for me in Russia, and I couldn't have done it without you."

Bucky's expression softened, his eyes reflecting genuine warmth. "It was my pleasure. You showed courage and determination. I was just glad to be a part of it."

"I wanted to ask," you continued, gathering your courage, "if you would consider coming with me. With my promotion, I have the opportunity to lead new projects, and I can think of no one better to have by my side."

Bucky's eyes widened in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your offer. After a moment of contemplation, a smile slowly spread across his face. "I would be honored," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I believe we make a good team."

Bucky smiled warmly, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he grabbed his car keys and jacket. "To celebrate, let me pay for tonight's dinner. My treat," he said, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.

You couldn't help but feel gratitude and happiness at his offer. "That sounds wonderful." you replied, a smile spreading across your face.

That's how the love story between you and Bucky started.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

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kanekoii · 7 months

Note

How do you think Luxiem and Noctyx would react to collabing with the Reader who is a popular indie vtuber and their kamaoshi?

lyra’s notes -> methinks…you should read and find out

pairings -> luxiem, noctyx x gn! indie vtuber! kamioshi! reader

!! since this is intended to be romantic sorta, reader is male in uki’s part !!

genre -> scenario

song -> don’t wake me up - jonas blue & why don’t we

warnings -> they all have a crush on u, food in mysta’s part, joking mention of death in fuglur’s

VOX AKUMA ->

he’s going full adorable fanboy about it, screaming with joy when you agree to collab with him and freaking out over it on his twitter- i mean x. xitter. he will be so stoked about the opportunity to talk to you in person when he usually just lurks in your chat. he’ll take the opportunity to flirt with you and try to show off a little bit, only to fail miserably and be met with a laugh. yet he still made you laugh, so mission accomplished. he was so excited to collaborate with you and make you laugh, and he’s sure to ask to collab in the future.

IKE EVELAND ->

compliments. so many compliments. he’ll straight up tell you how excited he is to work with you and how you’re his kamioshi. ike will be sure to tell you how adorable he thinks you are and just how much he genuinely admires you. he is so absolutely smitten that poor boy can barely handle talking to you without blushing or getting flustered. the more times you collaborate, the more used to it he’ll become and the more he’ll start to hint at his crush on you.

LUCA KANESHIRO ->

he didn’t even believe you’d ask. you’re his literal kamioshi and you asked to collaborate with HIM of all people? he’s absolutely grateful for the opportunity to work with you and be able to talk to you more than just occasional comments in your chat when he’s not streaming. it was an off-collab too, so you’d be seeing him in person to see if he was just as pretty off camera as he was on. someone (me) akasupa’d and asked to give opinions on each other and the revelation that you loved his content just as much as or even more than he loved yours had his heart soaring.

SHU YAMINO ->

he would get SO flustered and nervous before you hop on call together to play the horror game he had chosen. it would likely lead to poor boy getting more scared than usual just because he’s nervous to be talking to someone he admires that much for the first time. he would most definitely try to flex his math skills too as some weird way of trying to gain your attention. every time he makes you even smile with his silly comments, his heart will soar out of pure pride.

MYSTA RIAS ->

he’s keeping it cool. or at the very least, he’s trying to. he knows his personality type doesn’t appeal to everyone and he’s so happy when he finds that you actually enjoy his loud yet introverted personality and his weird antics. the stream you did together was you teaching him how to cook without poisoning everyone. please teach him how to wash rice properly and how to cook it without the starch water. please i’m begging teach him how to cook and he will be so happy, bragging to chat that he learned this recipe from you.

FULGUR OVID ->

hooligan wants to play co-op rage games with you just to see you mald and absolutely lose it. hear me out, what if he invites you to a crab game or among us collab and introduces you to everyone and he gets teased for teaming with you and trying to essentially carry you. instead of die for nari it’s die for you. he will see to it personally that you win every game you play together just as a little chance to impress you and get you to smile. that would make him SO happy.

SONNY BRISKO ->

cutie will be so taken aback to see you in his chats sometimes, so a collaboration would be more than heaven to him. he looks up to you and your content so much that he’s sure he’s dreaming when he has a full conversation with you on stream. your collective chats ship it SO much. imagine all the ship edits when you do a stream together in person as an off-collab.

UKI VIOLETA ->

(male reader for this one) he would definitely do a baking stream! much like the ones he’s done with his fellow nijisanji en members, he gives vague instructions and you try to figure it out from there. while uki is muted, his viewers would be subject to comments about oh my god he’s adorable he’s trying so hard to make me happy. ugh boy is down bad and let’s just say there will be so many more streams like that in the near future <3

ALBAN KNOX ->

he’s SO insanely shy and nervous it’s adorable. though, as the stream with you goes on, he becomes less nervous and goes back to his normal silly self. if he needs to, he’ll break out the mickey voice to make you laugh but that’s a last resort. his personality compliments yours in such a way that it’s just so enjoyable to watch, and he’s such a comforting person to be around as well.

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izvmimi · 2 months

Text

cw: canon deviation. time-skip (post demon slaying). babies. fem!reader.

“And what are you looking at?”

Genya is known for how intimidating he can be, but the round-cheeked, giggling child held at eye level between his hands right now will never see anything other than a loving father no matter how intensely he pretends to glare at him. The giggly ball of dough, practically hairless still despite nearly three months and a half in the world, kicks its feet and Genya smiles, helplessly charmed, before blowing a raspberry into his cheek and lowering him into his lap.

“Those Shinaguzawa family genes are no joke,” your friend jokes. She’s been watching the baby carefully for the past few minutes since she and Tanjiro entered the home, bearing gifts of cloth diapers and handmade quilt blankets, among other soft things. Genya is quickly defensive, reminding her for the nth time that your son has your nose, but you laugh to dispel the tension. After all, she’s right. The baby’s eyes are practically the same as his father's and his uncle's, although when he smiles ear to ear, his eyes close like yours do.

“He looks just like his daddy,” you agree. You’re still setting your dining table for six and your friends have gotten up to help you pour tea for six, and collect plates of dorayaki, senbei and edamame to set at the table.

Sanemi chuckles, adjusting his sitting position on the tatami.

“I mean, I think we deserve that much,” he says, gruffly, as he supports himself. You know what he means, and nod solemnly without additional comment while his wife squeezes his shoulder before disappearing to follow you. Your friends have congratulated you after the birth of your first child multiple times, having taken turns assisting you right after delivery, but you haven’t seen them in a month or so, and adjusting to your new life has been rewarding but difficult. One of them fills your pantry with dried goods while the other scans the premises for anywhere that she can clean or reinforce. You thank them, a smile on your face.

“We’re doing great. Genya takes good care of me, don’t worry,” you remind them, and they have no problems believing it.

Your baby thankfully isn’t fussy, and Genya is a surprisingly adept father, quick to learn the basics of bottle feeding and diapering, and making sure your house is clean and comfortable to live in. Living in relative poverty as a child made him work hard and be frugal, experiencing tragedy made him thoughtful and protective, and he does his absolute best to take care of you.

He’d always promised to take care of you as long as you both lived.

When you return to the entertainment room, your friends and you settling next to the men you’ve chosen, you lay your head on Genya’s shoulder, thankful that he’s the one that you chose, and he chose you just the same.

…

Sanemi and his wife stay the night, and once everyone has turned in from the night and your son is sleeping peacefully in his bassinet, you lay in bed, wrapped warm in Genya’s arms.

“We need a nephew or niece of our own, don’t you think?” you muse. “Gotta get them in the sack faster before they can’t catch up to us.”

Genya snorts, pressing his chin on the soft of your shoulder as he holds you closer.

“That’s their business,” he murmurs, gruffly. “By the way, tell your friend to stop calling our kid ‘tofu’.”

You giggle. “Has it been bothering you?”

“Yes or I wouldn’t be bringing it up right now.”

“I think it’s cute,” you tease, turning in his hold. He’s surprised by the sudden movement, you can tell, by the red in your cheeks. “What?”

Genya blinks, then kisses your forehead. “Nothing.”

“Is something on my face?” you ask.

“No. You’re beautiful.” You beam at this, then pull the covers tighter around your body.

“You’re a good dad, Genya,” you remind him. You’re not sure that he needs to hear it, but you want to reassure him. He’s heard tip after tip from his older brother today and you overheard Sanemi telling him his mother would be proud of him. You hope it sinks in because she would, and you wonder if he’s still mulling over the thought.

The sweet child nicknamed ‘tofu’ to his father’s chagrin sleeps through the night with parents that love him more than anything on earth, because they love each other more than life itself.

#genya shinazugawa x reader #genya x reader #genya x reader fluff #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #daydreams: kny #mimi's notes

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proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

title: stranger than a stranger

pairing: pre-boston raider!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4964

summary:

When Joel sees you searching for supplies in an old school, he removes your companion from the equation and convinces you that you need to join him for your survival.

author's note: a gift for @dreamingofdaddydin, fellow depraved slut, who sent in an ask that i completely changed. please heed the warnings on this one, as there are dark and potentially triggering elements. if you do decide to read and you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), undefined age gap, no use of y/n, post-outbreak/pre-boston QZ, dark!joel miller, perv!joel miller, survival as coercion/manipulation, dub/non-con somnophilia (the actions are not agreed upon before hand but reader is receptive once waking), sex as a thank you, voyeurism, masturbation, canon typical violence (mentions guns, knives, blood), handjobs, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, honey), cum eating, huddling for warmth but manipulative, wet dreams, thigh fucking, fingering, unprotected p in v. please let me know if any are missing!

You never expected to live through an apocalypse. In fact, before the cordyceps outbreak, you and your boyfriend had watched Night of the Living Dead and you joked that if the time ever came, just throw you to the zombies or demons or whatever hell unleashed.

Yet here you are, ten years post-outbreak and the collapse of one QZ that you and your boyfriend had been living in, climbing through a destroyed school building, picking your way through rubble as you follow Liam in his search for more supplies.

“The stores around here are probably picked clean, but a lot of people don’t think about checking schools. They’ve got plenty of non-perishables in the cafeteria. Remember? We ate like shit growing up,” Liam explains. He shines a flashlight down a hall. “Well, I guess we ate better than we do now.”

“I miss chicken nuggets,” you lament. He chuckles.

“I could definitely use a cheeseburger,” Liam replies.

You continue moving quietly through the school, the cement and linoleum cracked by overgrowth and the abandoned classrooms of overturned desks making you feel like you’re in a whole different world and not just in an elementary school in Massachusetts.

“You got your knife and gun, right?” Liam asks quietly. You nod, pulling the gun from the waist of your jeans and showing it to him. “Good, keep it handy. You know those fuckers are always hiding around buildings like this.”

You and Liam had just started dating when the outbreak occurred, and you managed to stick together for the last ten years. He’s taught you a lot about survival - shooting a gun, starting a fire, and finding edible vegetation in the woods, among other skills. Despite your original desire to be spared from an apocalypse, you’ve somehow managed to persevere.

“Remember to aim for the head,” Liam says.

You roll your eyes. “No, I figured I’d aim for a foot. Of course I’m aiming for the head.”

“Alright, smart ass. You go down that hall and see what you can find.” He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m gonna look for the cafeteria. Meet me back here.”

With another nod, you part ways.

You both miss the figure lurking in the shadows.

________

Joel watches you disappear around a corner before his attention returns to your companion. The man walks quickly in the opposite direction, holding only a flashlight in his hands. Joel clocks a holster on his hip that must hold a gun or a knife. The man looks like the type to know how to fight, weapons or not.

Too bad Joel is the predator here.

He leaves the dark shadow he’d hidden himself in, following the man with quick, quiet steps. The other man seems alert, but not alert enough to notice Joel following him.

Good.

Joel watches the man draw a gun from the holster, holding it in front of him as he kicks open a set of double doors, sweeping his flashlight and gun into the darkness beyond. Joel slips through the door before it shuts, darkness surrounding him as he lets his eyes adjust.

It looks like a gymnasium, cracked hardwood basketball flooring with faded court lines illuminated in the small flashlight beam of the man, who continues across the court and out another set of double doors.

He follows him back out to a hallway, brightly lit thanks to a hole in the ceiling, crumbled plaster and cement littering the ground. He takes a few steps closer, stopping when he hears a clicking sound that sends a shiver down his spine.

The man freezes, too, eyes wide, hands tightening on his gun. Joel slowly brings the shotgun slung over his back around to his front, taking it up in his hands.

The clicking grows louder, more insistent. It echoes down the hallway and Joel knows that the creature is aware of their presence. No matter how quiet you are, those fuckers know how to find you.

He aims his gun, finger poised on the trigger. Heavy footsteps approach from the end of the hall, punctuated by the clicking noise that makes his hair stand on end. The creature enters the hall, overgrowth of cordyceps blocking its eyes and features. It pauses, head turning with jerky motions as it seeks out its prey. He watches the other man shift his stance, trying to widen his legs, but his foot catches a rock, sending it sliding across the floor.

The creature’s head snaps at the sound and it ambles closer, faster. Joel takes aim, pulling the trigger and blowing its head across the room. The man turns in surprise.

“Damn, man. Thanks,” he says, taking a deep breath and giving Joel a smile of gratitude. He reaches a hand out as he says, “I’m Li—“

He pulls the trigger and the man collapses to the ground face first, blood rapidly pooling beneath his body.

Joel approaches, crouching beside him. He opens the bag on his back, rifling through the contents for anything that might be of use. There’s a med kit, ammo for the handgun he’d been using, gloves, a jacket, and a hunting knife. He shoves all of it into his own bag before grabbing the gun beside the man’s body as he stands.

Joel slides the gun into his waistband before turning and heading back the way he came. He imagines the gunshots will have you rushing back to investigate.

Just like he wanted.

________

You hear two gunshots go off, freezing in your exploration of a classroom. You listen closely, ears straining for any sign of clicker activity due to the noise as you slowly draw your gun from your waistband. Hearing nothing in the aftermath of the gunshots, you race back towards the area where Liam had agreed to meet you, heart racing as your mind begs you to choose flight and not fight.

In your panic, you don’t notice the man in the hall until you’re colliding against him, his arms gripping your shoulders to steady you.

“Who the fuck are you?” You ask, scrambling out of his hold and pointing your gun at him. He’s tall with broad shoulders, a flannel beneath a faded denim jacket stretching over his frame. He has tan skin and dark hair with brown eyes that look at you with concern. “Back the fuck up,” you shout.

The man takes a step back, holding his hands up. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“I heard gunshots. Where’s Liam?”

“I came up on a guy fightin’ a clicker. He was in bad shape,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a buzzing in your ears as your brain catches up to his words. You blink, eyes burning with tears that you fight back.

“H-he’s dead?” You whisper.

“‘Fraid so.”

You drop to your hands and knees with the realization, gasping for a breath that won’t reach your lungs. There’s movement from the corner of your eye, the strange man taking a step closer, and you raise your gun once more.

“Don’t,” you snap. “Come any closer and I’ll shoot.”

“Listen. I’m sorry about your friend. But if there’s one clicker, there’s bound to be more. You can come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll be fine on my own.” You keep the gun trained on him as you slowly stand on shaky legs. “I’m leaving now. Don’t fucking follow me.”

You only make it a few steps before he’s calling out after you. “There’s worse things out there than the infected. Girl like you won’t last long.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means,” he says, the tone of his voice grating your nerves, “that there are bad fuckin’ people out there, ones that’ll take advantage of a girl headin’ out on her own. Some who won’t give a shit that a gun is bein’ pointed at their heads if it means they die tryin’ to bring you down with ‘em. Is that really somethin’ you wanna go through right now?”

Your resolve waivers. He’s probably right. In the ten years you’ve been struggling to survive, you’ve always had Liam at your back. Even in the QZ, before it collapsed, he kept you going. You could survive out there when it came to skill, but would you make it far on your own when clickers move in packs and raiders run rampant?

“I…I guess I’ll come with you,” you say, lowering your weapon. You flick the safety on and the man smiles.

“The name’s Joel.”

________

It’s been a week since joining Joel. The two of you keep a steady pace in your travels, though there’s no real destination in mind. He’s been on his own for a while, he tells you, having split from his brother who had gone to join the Fireflies in their fight.

“Fuckin’ stupid if you ask me,” he grumbled after telling you that little bit of information. “They ain’t gonna change shit.”

You just nod along, wrapped up in your own thoughts. You can’t pinpoint it, but something about Joel makes you wary of him. He’s been nice enough, sure, but there’s something off about the way he looks at you.

You’ll catch the older man staring at your ass when you’re walking ahead of him, or see the way his eyes go dark when you’re on your knees starting a fire. His hands will linger on your hips a little longer than necessary when he’s helping you jump down from something, or he’ll watch a little too intently as your lips wrap around the mouth of your water bottle.

What’s worse is how it makes you feel hot all over when you shouldn’t feel anything, least of all attraction when you’ve just lost your boyfriend.

It’s starting to get cold at night. The days are still tolerable, since you’re always on the move and the sun is shining, but once the sky goes dark, you struggle to stay warm. You layer your two jackets and even that’s still not enough as you lay shivering in your sleeping bag. You turn over until you’re facing where Joel has his bag set up, curling your legs closer to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut.

Past the sound of your teeth chattering, you hear the shift of fabric, the glide of skin on skin, a low groan. Your eyes snap open and as they adjust to the inky darkness, you can make out the vague shape of Joel on the ground. Another choked off moan rings in your ear, the sound of it making your blood go hot. You listen as his movements and breaths and sounds grow more frantic, the desperation they’re laced with making you rub your thighs together as subtly as you can.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel pants quietly. The air goes still, the sound of his hand moving over his cock slowing to a stop. You wonder where he’s finished. In his hand? On his belly? Your brain conjures an image of you licking the spend from his skin, salty taste of him on your tongue as you look up into his eyes and he groans.

You have to bite your lip to keep your sounds to yourself. You wiggle a hand between your legs, clamping your thighs around it tightly and rocking slightly. It’s not nearly enough and it’s so frustrating you want to scream.

Eventually, as the adrenaline seeps from your body, sleep takes its place, your eyes fluttering shut as darkness consumes you.

You dream of bitten off groans and curses in a voice that belongs to a stranger with dark hair and brown eyes.

________

Two weeks after joining the two of you encounter your first band of raiders.

You’re in a small town picking through a convenience store. There’s a surprising amount of things left on the shelves, including cans of food that you’re tossing into your backpack when the sound of a gun being cocked makes you freeze.

“Hey, pretty girl. Why don’t you put some of that back for the rest of us, yeah?” An unfamiliar voice says. You glance over your shoulder, a large man with a thick beard smiling at you. You turn slowly, hands raised and mind racing with your options.

He’s blocking the exit. You could try to dart around him, but the gun trained at your head is a bit of a worry. Your own gun is in the waistband of your pants, pressing against your low back. Not much help to you like that. You should have been holding it the whole time.

“Hand over your fucking bag,” he says, the calm in his more alarming than if he were yelling at you. “Got me some food and a pretty little pet to keep, too.”

Your blood turns to ice and your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you swallow hard, bending down to grab your bag.

A shot rings out, glass shattering and you shout, dropping lower to the ground. You open your eyes slowly, you gaze landing on the body of the man lying on the ground in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. You look up, eyes finding Joel’s beyond the shattered window of the convenience store as he lowers his gun.

A shout has Joel whirling, gun drawn as three men appear from an alley. He shoots, one of the men dropping. Grabbing your bag, you rush to the front of the store as another shot rings out, shattering the glass of the door. You drop to the ground, pressing your back to the wall beside the window and peeking out.

Joel slings his gun over his back, landing a kick to a man that rushes him, the stranger landing on his back. A second man points a gun at Joel.

“On your fuckin’ knees!” He barks.

Panic courses through you, but you reach behind you, grabbing your gun. You switch the safety off, leaning from your hiding spot to take aim through the window at the man. Your hands shake as you take a breath in, like Liam taught you, pulling the trigger as you exhale.

The shot lands in the man’s abdomen, making him stumble and drop his weapon. Joel stands, rushing for the man as he pulls a large knife from his hip, plunging the blade into the man’s chest.

The man he kicked is getting to his hands and knees when Joel turns on him, knife held at his hip. A wicked grin spreads across his face before he plants his boot against the man’s ribs, knocking him onto his side. Joel shoves at him with his foot until the man is on his back and he stands over him, a foot on either side of his hips.

Joel raises the knife above his head before swinging it down into the man’s chest, holding it there for a moment before he twists it savagely and pulls it free. You stand there, equal parts horrified and something worse, eyes wide as you watch Joel wipe the blade against the man’s clothes to clean it.

“Get their guns, will ya?” Joel calls out. The sound of his voice makes you jump, your muscles finally spurring into action as you comply with his request.

Later, as you settle in for the night in your respective sleeping bags, you hear the tell-tale sound of shifting fabric and bitten off moans. You stare up at the dark sky, pinpricks of starlight winking back at you, as you gather your courage.

“Joel?” You murmur. The sounds stop abruptly, the only thing you can hear is his heavy breathing.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he grunts.

You turn over on your side, facing him. You can barely make him out in the dark, only his silhouette, but your heart beats faster all the same as you say, “I could…help.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, so long that you’ve got an apology on the tip of your tongue when you hear the zip of his sleeping bag being opened.

“Come help, then.”

________

Joel tries to contain his enthusiasm. Nights of coming into his own palm while he knows you’re listening, imagining your hand around his cock instead of his, and now his patience has finally paid off.

You’re crawling across the grass to join him in his sleeping bag, your body pressed to his in the tight space. He takes a shuddering breath, the feel of your heat alone almost enough to make him come.

Your hand rests on his belly, tentatively sliding lower until your fingers brush against the hair at the base of his cock. He hisses as your cold hand grips him at the base, slowly sliding up to his leaking tip. Your thumb circles his slit, smearing a bead of precum around the sensitive head as he groans into the night.

“That’s it, baby,” Joel says. Your face is tucked against his neck, and he wishes you’d turn your face up, let him kiss you, but he has to be smart and only take what you’ll give so that one day you’ll offer more. “Tighter, just like that, fuck.”

Joel’s hips flex to chase your fist, the soft feel of your palm driving him wild. He moans, louder than he should be given the vulnerable position this puts you both in, but he doesn’t give a fuck. All he cares about is you.

“This a ‘thank you’, huh? For killin’ those guys?” Joel pants. Your head nods against his neck and the admission makes his head feel light and fuzzy. “Told ya you needed me, sweetheart. Needed someone to take care of you, right?”

You hum, squirming against him. Your lips graze his neck and that’s the final nail in his coffin, his cock pulsing in your hand as he comes harder than he has in years. He can’t help but whine a little when you let go, already missing the warmth and the softness of it.

“Clean it up for me, baby,” Joel says. You bring your hand up, nothing but a dark shape against darker air, and he hears you licking at the cum coating your fingers. “That taste good?”

“Mhm,” you hum. When you’re done, you roll away from him, crawling back over to your sleeping bag and zipping yourself inside.

With a sigh, Joel shimmies his jeans back up his thighs before turning on his side, letting the sounds of the night lull him to sleep.

________

You’ve been with Joel for a month when winter really starts to settle in and you’re forced to keep moving in your travels until you’ve found abandoned buildings to sleep in to stay out of the harsh winter air. While the snow might not reach you inside, the cold certainly does.

It’s one such night that Joel suggests sharing body heat.

“It’s the best thing we can do to keep warm,” he explains. “Can’t keep a fire goin’ inside. Too dangerous.”

You swallow nervously. He’s zipping together your sleeping bags so that you can fit beside each other, laying it on the ground of the old stockroom you’ve barricaded yourselves in for the night, a little camping lamp on a metal shelf providing a little light.

Joel kneels to untie his boots, removing one then the other and setting them aside. He stands, sliding his arms free of his jacket and setting it on the shelf. When he starts to unbutton his flannel, your blood rushes in your ears.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask. He pauses, hands on his buttons.

“Gettin’ undressed. Can’t share body heat with clothes in the way.”

You stand there frozen as he continues to strip, t-shirt and jeans and boxers all joining his growing pile of clothes until he’s naked in front of you and you’re struggling to keep your eyes on his face with so much muscle and skin on display. He slides into the sleeping bag, staring up at you expectantly.

“You gonna stand there all night?” He asks, lips tilted in a little smirk. “Come on. We’ve come a long way today and you gotta be tired.”

You’re exhausted, really, the kind of tired that settles into your bones and makes your limbs heavy. Slowly, you follow the same steps as he did to undress, starting with your shoes. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s watching you with dark eyes the entire time, until you’re down to your underwear.

“Those, too,” Joel says.

“Why?”

“I don’t make the rules, sweetheart, I just follow ‘em. Skin to skin is the only way this’ll work.”

Reluctantly, you reach behind your back to unclip your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your nipples are tight in the cold room and you grit your teeth against their chattering as you quickly tug your panties down your legs and add them to your pile of clothing.

You slip into the sleeping bag beside Joel, the heat of his body immediately making you feel warm all over. You zip up the sleeping bag, cocooning your bodies in the insulation. Joel turns on his side, sliding his muscular around your tummy and tugging you closer. The hard length of his cock presses to your thigh and you lie perfectly still, afraid to move.

“Go to sleep,” he grunts. You close your eyes, the tension slowly leaving your muscles as you listen to his deep breathing in the dark room.

Somewhere between the warmth of his body and the feel of his breath against your cheek, sleep finds you.

________

Sometime in the night, you’ve turned on your side, your ass pressed snugly against Joel’s hips with his cock slipped between your cheeks. He wakes to the feel of you grinding against his length and his arm tightens around your middle as he groans.

“Joel,” you murmur. He lifts his head to see if you’re awake, but your eyes are shut, brows pinched together. Your hips move against him again and he bites into his lower lip to keep his sounds contained, not wanting to wake you and ruin this.

You murmur his name again and his head drops back to the arm he’d been using as a pillow. He gives a little experimental thrust of his hips and you moan, the sound making his cock jump against you.

With careful movements, he lifts your top leg, laying it over his hip. He lets his hand drift lower, gliding over your tummy until he’s cupping your pussy gently. His fingers slide through your wetness, catching on your swollen clit and making your hips jerk.

Joel worries that you’re awake, but you’re not scrambling from his grip yet. He circles his fingers slowly, so slowly, your hips moving against him and your breathing coming more quickly. You let out little whimpers and whines that Joel wants to commit to memory, the sound of them sure to plague him any time he closes his eyes.

You’re growing wetter and Joel grows bolder, slipping his middle finger into your tight entrance, not able to hold back his moan of appreciation over how your cunt flutters around the digit as he slowly pumps it inside of you.

Another whimper of his name from your lips has his sanity fraying further, his hand moving faster against you, damn the consequences of you waking up to him playing with your pussy. Your muscles go tight against him with your release before going limp, your breath stuttering. He lifts his head once more to check if you’re asleep, surprised to find your face lax with bliss, eyes still closed as your breathing slows to normal.

Joel withdraws his hand, using it to grip his cock, sliding your juices over his length. He angles himself to where his cock is pressed up against your lips before gently lowering your leg. He’s surrounded by warmth, your pussy and thighs cradling him perfectly.

He thrusts his hips, his cock gliding through your wetness with ease. He loses himself to the slick glide, the tip of his cock catching against your swollen clit with each thrust. His fingers dig into the meat of your hip for leverage, pulling you back towards him as he groans against your shoulder.

Your muscles go stiff against him and he freezes as you whisper, “Joel?”

His name is a question this time and he knows he’s been caught.

“It can be another ‘thank you’, yeah? For keepin’ you warm?” He asks, dragging his nose across your bare shoulder. “Could feel so good for us both,” he whispers, thrusting against your clit and reveling in the shaky moan you give him in return.

“O-okay,” you stutter. Joel presses a kiss to your shoulder in gratitude as he returns to the rhythm he’d set before you woke. He slides an arm over your middle, hand finding your breast and gripping it forcefully as you moan.

“That feel good, baby?” He asks. You nod, whining and squirming against him now. “Know what would feel better?”

“W-what?”

He draws back, positioning the tip of his cock against your hole. Your breath catches as he slides inside the slightest amount. Just the tip.

“Would feel so good, right? Fillin’ you up, stretchin’ you,” he whispers. “You could keep me warm just like I’ve been keepin’ you warm all night.” You clench around him and he moans, hips flexing and sliding him deeper into you as you gasp. “So goddamn wet and tight.”

Joel slides the last bit deeper, until his hips are flush to your ass. You’re panting, cunt fluttering around him as you adjust, and he feels drunk on the feel of it, on the feel of you. He pulls out part way before sliding back in with a harsh thrust, the start of a punishing rhythm that has you chanting his name.

The slick slide of you over his cock feels like heaven, but he wants more, wants you cock drunk and earning your pleasure. You are supposed to be thanking him, after all.

He pulls out, lying on his back. “Get up here, sweetheart. It’s time to do your part.”

You turn until you’re facing him, and Joel gets impatient, grabbing at you until he can haul you into his lap, your slick, swollen pussy gliding over his cock. He groans, reaching between your bodies to hold himself steady, notching the thick head at your entrance.

“Take it, baby, come on,” he groans. You rock back until his cock is buried in your cunt, your knees pressing tight against his hips as you whine.

“S’deep,” you slur, rocking yourself over him.

“Feels good though, doesn’t it? So fuckin’ deep in you,” he growls. Your chest is pressed to his, your lips so close he takes his chance, slotting his mouth against yours.

You kiss him back, messy and desperate, moaning against his lips as you take his cock like you were made for it. And maybe you were. Why else would he have been in the right place at the right time, getting the chance to keep you all for himself?

You sit up further, hands planted on his chest as you ride him with fervor. Your blunt fingernails dig into his skin and make him groan, hips punching up into you as you rock back. When you moan desperately, he does it again, and again, until you’re letting out a choked little sob that makes his cock pulse inside of you.

“Come for me, honey, wanna feel this pretty pussy choke my cock,” Joel demands. He can feel your walls flutter around him, your noises growing desperate. He brings a hand to your clit, thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until you tighten around him, squeezing his cock as you come undone with a shout.

You collapse forward and Joel wraps his arms around your low back, holding you steady as he plants his feet and pounds his cock into you with harsh thrusts, chasing his release. Your teeth dig into the sensitive skin of his neck and the sharp sting sends him over the edge. He pulls out at the last moment, his cum splashing between your bodies in thick spurts.

You lie on top of him, catching your breath. Sweat grows sticky on Joel’s skin as the cool air settles around them, your back erupting in goosebumps as you shiver. He maneuvers your bodies until you’re cradled against him again.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

When you nestle closer, body lax against his, he smiles in triumph.

_______

You wake before Joel the next morning, body sticky with the mess from the night. You cringe, wiggling away from Joel’s hold. You find your discarded shirt and water bottle, intending to soak the fabric to wipe yourself clean, only to find your bottle is empty.

You locate Joel’s backpack, knowing he keeps his water bottle in there. You dig through the contents, hand bumping against the familiar bulk of a handgun. Your brow furrows. You haven’t seen Joel use a handgun. He uses the shotgun on his back, the other weapons you’d collected from the raiders stored in your bag.

You pull the weapon free and inspect it. You know this gun. It’s the same gun you’d learn to shoot with, the first one Liam found in the aftermath of the outbreak. Your blood turns to ice.

Joel said he’d seen Liam get attacked by a clicker. If that’s the case, when did he get Liam’s gun?

The sound of Joel moving in the sleeping bag has you shoving the gun back into his bag and grabbing the water bottle you’d gone in search of in the first place.

You’ll have to worry about your discovery some other day.

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