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narcissisticmf · 2 years

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bedroom antics | dean winchester x fem!reader

description: when first moving into the bunker, dean shows y/n his room and things get frisky.

trigger warnings: sexual content, oral sex, slight dom!reader, foul language, seductive behavior, cheeky dean, etc. please do not proceed in reading if you are under the age of 18.

word count: 2.2k

Rubbing your eyes with your fingertips, you released a subtle groan as your laptop was propped open to a few local current event articles that were a nexus of paranormal energy. You slowly pulled your hands away from your eyes and felt your vision blur for a moment before clearing when you blinked a few times.

Sam sat across from you as he was flipped through an old book of Greek lore. His chapped lips pressed together as he skimmed the pages with his light colored eyes.

"Y/N/N?" Dean's voice echoed throughout the bunker's library as he appeared at the doorway with a wide smile on his face.

"Yeah?" You turned to look at him, peeling your gaze from the computer. Sam looked at his brother with a cocked brow.

"You said I could show you my room later, which was earlier.. which makes later now, so do you want to come see?" Dean's smile grew wider as you chuckled lightly, bringing your lips into a smile. Sam scoffed with a smirk upon his face.

"Alright, eager beaver," You giggled under your breath and pushed yourself out of your chair and closed your laptop. "I could use a break anyway," You smiled and walked towards Dean as he smiled widely.

Walking down the hall with Dean, you hadn't realized how large the Men of Letters bunker was. The halls were filled with twists and turns with doors here and there at every corner. You had to make a mental map of the place for yourself due to your fear of getting lost.

Dean turned one more corner as you followed him, standing before his bedroom door. You smiled softly as he opened it and gestured for you to enter first.

"Eh? Isn't it nice?" Dean wiggled his brows as you walked in with an impressed smile.

"Yeah, I love the set up," You smiled and watched as he walked around you to take a seat against the edge of his bed. You took note of the pictures on his desk and wall. You grinned at the photos he had of you, his mother and Sam.

"It's memory foam, sweetheart," Dean grinned in reference to the mattress against his bed, covered by duvets and sheets. You turned to look at him with your arms crossed over your chest. "It remembers me," He smiled cheekily and leaned back against it.

"Oh yeah?" You cocked a brow, "Well let's see if it remembers this." You slowly let your hands rest at your sides and walked towards him as he looked up at you with pursed lips and widening eyes. You smiled and straddled his waist and you pressed your hands to his chest, pushing him back against the bed.

He released a nervous laugh as you gripped his wrists, pinning them at his sides as you dipped your head down to kiss his lips warmly. Your glossy lips collided with his effortlessly while both of you fluttered your eyes closed to take in the wondrous moment. You felt his chest rise and fall at a rapid pace, making you take note to his nervousness.

Your hips bucked against his as you deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth. The two of you battled for dominance for a while before you pulled back and cupped his face, releasing his wrists from your hold.

"Yeah.. I think it'll remember that," Dean released a shaky breath as he smiled up to you. You giggled and slowly peeled off of him, watching as he leaned up having his elbows keep him elevated.

Slowly, you walked towards the bedroom door and latched it shut. You flicked the lock and walked back towards Dean, his eyes followed your every move. You stood before him, your knees pressed against his as he swallowed thickly up to you. You noticed the bulge in his jeans, between his legs grow.

"I love the effect I have on you," You smiled with pride and gently let your fingers trace over his right thigh.

Dean swallowed and nodded, "Me too."

"Will you let me play with you?" You blinked innocently as a smirk arose upon your face gently pushing Dean back against the bed. He parted his lips and watched as you climbed atop him, having your legs straddle around his waist.

His hands gently gripped your thighs, giving them a subtle squeeze. You smiled and leaned down to kiss him hungrily. Your wet lips glided amongs his with ease and fluidity. Slowly, you took your hands and gripped his wrists, pinning them to the sides of his head.

"God, sweetheart.." Dean mumbled when you pulled your lips back, smiling down at him. You gnawed on the inside of your bottom lip as you swiftly bucked your hips against his. He leaned his head back and groaned softly, clenching his teeth in hopes that it would muffle the sinful noises. His length grew harder against you by the minute.

You enjoyed seeing him unravel and submit to your actions. Your eyes glistened with pride as you continued moving your hips. Subconsciously, your grip amongst his wrists softened as you felt your arousal form between your folds. You released a shaky breath and continued your motions.

"Getting worked up, huh, sweetheart?" Dean smirked and pulled his wrists away from your hands, flipping the two of you over so that he'd be on top of you this time. Your neck was against the pillows as you took in a sharp breath at the sudden movement. "Being a tease gets you nowhere," He whispered gravely and softly traced the exposed skin against your arm.

"It got me here," You countered and gripped his chin, pulling his head down to collide your lips together warmly. His lips were sweet, as though he applied chapstick to them prior to showing you his bedroom. You draped your arms around his shoulders and slid your tongue into his mouth. You released a soft whine when his glided against the tip of yourself.

"Dean.." You whimpered against his lips.

"What?" He pulled back and cupped your face with one hand, using the pad of his thumb to graze over your bottom lip.

"I need you," You released in a soft whisper.

"I bet you do, sweetheart," He smirked, making your face flush with heat.

You giggled nervously as he began to remove his jeans and flannel. He kicked off his boots and unbuckled his belt, tossing every article of clothing he wore to the ground of his room. You smiled when you noticed his length had hardened, a tint of red shaded over it. You looked up to meet his eyes as he smirked at you.

He sat back on his knees and let his hands run up and down your legs, feeling the rough material of your jeans. Dean stopped when he reached the button of them and looked at you with questioning eyes.

"Go ahead," You smiled and arched your back to get more comfortable as he grinned and undid them, peeling them off your legs swiftly. He tossed them back over his shoulder and leaned up to reach for the hem of your shirt. You raised your arms as he pulled it off over your head, also throwing that onto the ground of the growing pile.

You released an pathetic whine when he slowly pulled your undergarments off, beginning with your underwear. You smiled when he tossed them to the ground and leaned up to remove the bra you had on. You leaned up off the pillows so that he could do so more easily. Once you were both completely undraped, you smiled and cupped his face. The stubble along his jaw and cheeks felt oddly comfortable against your hands and fingers.

You pressed your lips against his with hunger as the two of you laid down, heat built between the two of you quickly. You raised your thigh to wrap around his waist as his hand gripped it, giving it a firm squeeze. You leaned your head back, parting from his lips and released soft moans breathlessly. He let his kiss trail down to your jawline and neck, getting lost in the sweet and savory taste of your skin.

"Dean.." You stuttered out, "Do you have anything in here?" You gently ran your fingers through his hair as he pulled his head up to look down at you.

He nodded with a grin and reached over to his bedside table, rummaging through the first door to grab the box of condoms. He pulled out out and used his teeth to tear the plastic off. You watched him intently and he pulled out the rubber, effortlessly sliding it onto his painfully hardened length.

"Wanna taste you first," Dean mumbled and kissed you passionately as you fluttered your eyes closed, cupping his face. You sucked in a breath when he pulled back and let his wet lips travel down your neck, to the center of your breasts. You whined when he stopped to let his tongue toy with your hard nipples. You gently spread your legs and let your hands entangle in the bed sheets, tugging at them softly.

You arched your back as he ran his lips down your stomach, kissing around your navel and moving to your hips. You reached down to run your fingers through his short hair, attempting to hold that the moans of pleasure. He hummed contently and rested against his stomach between your legs.

The stubble against his cheeks grazed against your inner thighs, making you whimper softly, curling your toes in response.

"I know, sweetheart.." Dean cooed, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. His breath fanned against your folds, which were slick with your arousal. It didn't take long for him to attach his lips to them, flicking his tongue up and down. You clenched your teeth and released a muffled moan, feeling your entire body coat with goosebumps. Dean moaned against your center, the flavors danced against his mouth.

He squeezed your thighs and pulled his head back, using his tongue to trace the letter of his first name against your folds.

"Oh God.." You breathed out shakily and leaned your head up to see Dean already staring at you with his piercing evergreen eyes. You rested your head back and whined pathetically, needing to feel him within you more than anything.

"Dean, I can't wait any longer," You huffed through a string of moans that escaped your lips.

"Always so impatient," Dean tsked and slowly pulled himself up to hover over you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and brushed your nose against his when he slowly took the tip of his length and grazed it against your folds.

"Mm.. Dean," You moaned through your shaky breaths and suck your lips against his broad shoulder to muffle more moans that would soon escape. He slipped himself through your center and felt your teeth bite down against his skin to muffle your moans of pleasure.

"God, sweetheart," Dean grunted and slowly bucked his hips into you. You pulled your head back and moaned softly, trying to remain as quiet as possible. His forehead pressed against yours as he moved his length against your walls.

"It feels amazing," You whimpered and gripped his biceps, leaning up to press your lips against his.

"You always feel so good, sweetheart," Dean grunted and moved deeper inside you, the tip of his length protruded against your lower stomach. You whined louder than you hoped which caused Dean to press his lips to yours, as a way to silence you.

There was something so intimate and exhilarating about needing to be silent due to Sam potentially hearing. The flavor of yourself lingered against his lips as he kissed you roughly. You felt his length graze against your most sensitive spot, causing an overwhelming sensation to bubble within your stomach.

"Dean.. oh God," You released in a moan, "Right there. I won't last much longer."

"Me either, sweetheart," He grunted and continued bucking his hips into yours, causing your stomach to unravel. You arched your back and squeezeed your eyes shut as you whispered his name over and over again.

Your orgasm unraveled from your stomach to your center, making you curl your toes and squeeze your eyes shut. Soon after, Dean spilled his release into the condom, groaning as he buried his face into your neck. You attempted to catch up with your breath as you hugged him around his shoulders.

He grinned tiredly and pulled out of you slowly, removing the filled condom and tossing it into his trash can. You smiled up at him and pulled him down, snaking your arms around his torso.

You peppered kisses all over his neck and chest, feeling such an immense amount of warmth within your stomach. He smiled and laid beside you with his arms wrapped around your body.

Dean sighed happily and kissed your forehead, "I love having my own room."

a/n: am i the only one who thinks dean would be a total dork in the bedroom? i feel like sex with him would be really fun and also really hot. just me?? yeah? okay. ANYWAY!! i hope you guys liked this smutty piece of shit, you dirty dirty cuties. thank you for reading and for always being so supportive of my work! love you all very much. — angelina.

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aiiwa · 4 years

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BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS ― IWAIZUMI, KUROO, BOKUTO, AND SUGAWARA.

✗ REQUEST: i’ve been seeing all over tiktok the whole lay between your s/o thighs trend (idk if you know the trend) but i wanted to see it with the hq boys. so could i request iwa, kuroo, bo and suga🥺.

― iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsurou, bokuto koutarou, sugawara koushi.

⤷ genre: fluff

⤷ warnings: suggestive content (everything i write at this point is suggestive lmao), i got lazy proof reading this but i’ll come back to it

⤷ word count: 3.1k

― a/n: i was very soft writing this hehe, also;

me to me: let’s limit this to 500 words per character

also me: almost writes 1k just on kuroo.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

after two long weeks apart, with iwa having to travel overseas for work, he had finally come back home to you. work trips weren’t uncommon, but often left you alone, missing him more and more with each day apart.

it took everything in your power to hold yourself back from jumping on him, the moment you caught sight of his bulky figure walking out of the airport terminal.

and now the two of you were on your way home. after bickering over who would drive, iwa now sat leaned back in the driver’s seat, large hand engulfing yours on your lap and the other gripping the leather steering wheel; skillfully maneuvering your car down the snowy streets. fiddling with his long fingers entwined between your own, you bring his hand up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.

glancing at you from the corner of his olive eyes, you could see his soft smile under the flickering glow of the streetlights. he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, before his focus turns back to the road.

ten minutes pass relatively quickly, with iwa shifting the gear into park outside your shared home. he trails close behind you, warm breath tickling the side of your neck and duffle bag slung over his wide shoulder, as you unlock the front door.

“welcome home.” you whisper, tilting your face up to look at him.

iwa’s quick to drop his bag, spinning you around by your hips to pull you flush against him. wrapping your arms around his neck, you giggle at the feeling of his hands dipping lower to give your ass a loving squeeze.

“i missed you, baby.” he breathes out, before leaning down to capture your lips.

the kiss is sweet and slow, you indulge yourself in the familiar feeling of his soft lips; before his tongue darts out to trace against the pout of your bottom lip, asking for permission. you moan into him as your tongues brush against each other sensually, dragging your hand from his nape to caress his jaw; you jolt away as your palm brushes against the icy cold touch of his ear.

“haji! your ears are freezing!” you hiss, both hands now tugging at his ears.

chuckling lowly, he grabs at your wrists lightly. “ah, i know...why don’t you warm them up for me?”

“huh?”

overwhelming thoughts of how exactly iwa intended for you to warm his ears up, clouded your flustered mind. in a flurry of movements, he lead you into your bedroom; freeing you from the tight denim of your high-waisted pants, and having you perched up and leaning against your fluffed up pillows. the fuzziness in your head starts to clear up at the sight of iwa stripping off his long sleeved shirt, exposing the toned muscle of his stomach and chest.

crawling towards you and parting your legs, he presses a kiss to the inner side of your knee, before he flips over and slides his read right between your legs. you blink once, then twice, watching as he grabs your thighs, wrapping them around his neck and squishing his face.

“well, this...isn’t exactly what i was expecting.” rubbing your thighs against his ears to get used to the freezing touch.

iwa hums contentedly, patting the side of your leg. “mmm, don’t worry baby, we’ll save that for a bit later okay?” heat rushes to your face as he calls you out on your thoughts. “i just wanna lay here and feel you like this for now.” you push your hands against your face, feeling how warm your cheeks are, before iwa grabs at your wrists softly, bringing them over to kiss your palms. “just lie with me, okay baby?”

with your hands caressing the sides of his face, you nod, smiling softly. “okay, haji.”

KUROO TETSUROU

working together with kuroo for japan’s volleyball association was amazing. for the most part that is. it’s how the two of you met, he’d charmed you into a first date by his second week, and it was almost three years since then.

you spent every day with your boyfriend at work, and every night together in bed. but sharing a busy week schedule filled with back-to-back meetings, interviews with athletes for potential promotional videos, and late nights in the office filing the never-ending build up of paperwork - meant weekends were very much looked forward to.

lazy sundays being your favourite.

the day usually started well into noon, both of you enjoying the extra undisturbed hours of sleep - since the blare of kuroo’s six a.m. alarm wasn’t ringing in your ears. he’d greet you with a drowsy rasp - “good morning, shorty.” - making you giggle before dragging him to share a steaming hot shower with you; . and with a towel wrapped around your head, bare legs on show underneath the hem of your boyfriend’s large shirt, you’d sway in front of the stovetop flipping pancakes while a shirtless kuroo sliced up your favourite fruits - music from his playlist playing softly in the background.

if the weather allowed it, you and kuroo would sit out on the balcony of your apartment; basking in the warmth of the sun, admiring the way his hazel eyes reflected gold. yet this sunday, a storm was raging outside.

“why is she giving a rose to that prick yamato? fuji deserves it way more than him!” kuroo calls out.

you were only half invested in the bachelorette marathon playing. rain spat against the fogged glass; heavy lidded eyes followed the trails made by the racing raindrops. you were tucked snugly into kuroo’s side, a long arm wrapped around your shoulders, and legs tangled under the softness of the new periwinkle comforter you’d bought the other day. kuroo’s laptop rested on his lap, and you jostled about as he shot an arm out to point at the screen accusingly.

“are you seeing this, y/n?! now she’s choosing sachihiro! over fuji?!”

humming half-heartedly in response, you squeeze yourself closer to kuroo; dragging your hand over his bare chest, and resting it over his heart. you could feel his heartbeat against your palm, thump-thump thump-thump, and the steady rise and fall of his chest began to lull you to sleep.

the sound of your soft snores, pulled kuroo’s attention away from the show.

“shorty, you sleepin’?”

at your lack of reply, he chuckles lowly, shifting around to put away his laptop. you were always the first to fall back asleep, especially after eating good and coming back to bed to cuddle. pulling you closer to him, he smiled at the sigh you released against him; before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead and resting his cheek on his pillow. the smell of your strawberry shampoo wafting around him, was the last thing kuroo remembered before he joined you in the dream world.

laying on your side with half your vision obscured by the fluffy pillow under your head, you blink away the sleep as you gaze outside the window. the rain had come to a slow drizzle, with the skies still fairly bright meaning only an hour or so had passed while you were asleep.

“tetsu?” you call out.

usually the rooster head would be pressed right up against you, but you couldn’t feel or see him. attempting to twist your body around, you find your movements constricted. it was only when you tried once again to lift your leg up, that a hand slid around your knee to halt your movements.

pushing yourself up a bit, and resting on your elbow, you glance down to find your boyfriend’s head between your thighs, back of his head pushed against your pelvis. because the two of your are on your sides, the full weight of your left leg over his shoulder has his cheeks smushed together; but kuroo seems completely unbothered, in fact he’s just scrolling through instagram on his phone. when you reach a hand down to tug at his inky hair, only then does he glance up at you.

“are you alright down there?” you ask. “can you even breathe?”

“i woke up here, and i don’t plan on moving any time soon.” kuroo hums, the vibration from his throat are ticklish against your inner thighs. “i’m living my best life, wanna see my new lock screen?”

without waiting for an answer, he shows off his new lock screen - which really happened to be a live photo displaying a collection of pictures with kuroo’s face squeezed between your lush thighs. you can’t help but laugh, kuroo’s cackling joining you. slightly embarrassed at the thought of someone catching a glance at his lock screen, you pull at his hair; complaining about the possibility of being exposed.

kuroo slaps your hands away from his hair, still chuckling. “i don’t care, shorty. i look good between your thighs, don’t you think so?”

flustered, you yank on his hair again. “shut up, rooster head.”

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

while waiting for bokuto to come back home to you from his training with the msby jackals, the last thing you expected was to receive a call from his teammates. it was your day off, and as you were loading the last of you and bokuto’s laundry, your phone began to vibrate - the bright grin of a certain tangerine-haired cutie flashing across the screen.

“hello?”

“hi, bokuto-san- ah, um, i mean y/n-san!”

you chuckle lightly at hinata’s correction. ever since you announced your engagement with bokuto, the younger male had started addressing you by your fiancé’s surname. in the background you can hear atsumu yelling out to you, followed by sakusa complaining about his loud mouth. you were more than familiar with bokuto’s close friends and teammates, from the countless team dinners and nights of drinks hosted at you and bokuto’s townhouse, you shared a solid friendship with everyone.

“ah, shou-kun, everything okay?”

“um, well i just called to let you know that bokuto-san didn’t have the best time at training today.”

‘oh no, poor kou,’ you thought to yourself, heart tugging at the thought of bokuto being sad. his somber moods were a rarity these days; it had actually been almost a year since he’d been in a slump, and he usually loved his trainings, so that meant today must have been extra tough on him.

“i see, thank you for telling me shou-kun.” after listening to hinata’s retelling of the events at training, with side commentary from atsumu and sakusa; you all exchanged goodbyes before ending the call.

with the chance to avoid being unequipped for bokuto’s gloomy return home, you were grateful for hinata’s thought to warn you. it gave you an hour, from his shower to the drive back home, to prepare some of his favourite things. normally it involved inviting akaashi over, but with him out of town, it left you to your own devices. though after being with bokuto for so long, it wouldn’t be that hard.

you knew your man like the back of your hand.

he was probably starving after practice, and what better than to cook some barbecued meat for him - his favourite, with the special sauce you always made just for him. after making some side dishes and rice, you set the table for the two of you, leaving the meat to stay warm in the oven while you went for a quick shower. bokuto made it know how much he enjoys the smell of your cherry bomb body wash, yet today you opted to lather on his orange body wash. knowing the smell of him on you made him crazy, you dried yourself off and decided to wear his old shirt from high school; the baby blue of ‘the way of the ace’ shirt, with the faded black characters.

you had just finished throwing your softest blankets and fluffiest pillows onto the couch in the living room, when you caught the sound jingling keys at the front door. leaping over the back of the sofa, you ran just in time for the door to open.

“kou!” you exclaimed, leaping as soon as you see his bulky figure enter through the doorway. his gym bag landed on the wooden floors with a thud, as he caught you easily in his arms. “welcome home! i missed you so much, baby!”

bokuto’s hold on you is tight. “hi, y/n…” there’s none of the usual chirp in his voice, and you squeeze him closer to you, peppering kisses on his face.

“are you hungry? i made your favourite.”

offering him a small smile at his slight nod, you slid out of his grasp, taking his hand to lead him to the dining table. when he saw the table set, barbecued meats on display, he tugged you to a halt; staring at you with round, golden puppy eyes filled with appreciation. you sat on his lap as he ate, with your arm hooked around his neck; allowing him to feed you, as he listened to you talk about your day. and when the two of you were done, bokuto offered to finish off the dishes while you lounged on the sofa waiting for him, netflix loading on the wide screen television.

distracted by the trailer of some netflix original film, your caught by surprise when bokuto slides face first between your thighs. with his cheek pressed against your pelvis, he shifts your legs over his broad shoulders, thighs almost obscuring his face from your vision if it weren’t for the frosted tips of his hair sticking out. running your fingers through the slightly damp, silken strands; you felt you relax in your embrace, releasing a contented sigh.

“kou?” he hums in response, arms sliding around your thighs as he nuzzles his face into your smooth skin. “i know today wasn’t the best, but there’s always a tomorrow. just remember that i love you so much, and i’m here...okay baby?”

lifting his head slightly, thighs resting by his jaw, he sets his chin just below your navel. staring up at you, he takes your hands in his, slippings his fingers between yours.

“i love you, y/n.” he whispers, slightly mumbled. “thank you for everything.”

giving his hands a loving squeeze, you start explaining the new movie you want to watch. and with his interest piqued, the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon in the comfort of each other; bokuto tracings patterns on your leg, and your hands tangled in his hair.

SUGAWARA KOUSHI

it had been almost a month since you and suga’s return from your honeymoon. after spending an amazing three weeks on a tropical island with your newly wedded husband; strolling along sandy beaches, scuba diving in clear blue waters, and spending warm nights making love under the stars - it was safe to say you were missing the time away relaxing.

so when daichi called your husband during the week to make plans for the long weekend, you were more than happy for a mini getaway to tokyo with your old high school friends.

and that’s how you found yourself, guava oil spread across your skin, stretched out by the poolside, and sipping your umeshu tonic through a pink swirly straw. the boys had decided to take a dip and cool off in the pool, while you and kiyoko had taken to some sunbathing. it was a little after midday, scorching sun at its peak; and the golden rays captured the sparkle of the princess cut diamond of your engagement ring resting between two matching, diamond encrusted bands.

“you’re going to blind everyone with all those diamonds, y/n.” blinking away the daze you’d caught yourself in, you chuckle at kiyoko’s teasing.

“speak for yourself, soon-to-be-mrs-tanaka.” you shot back, nodding at the glimmering engagement ring on her own finger.

the two of you giggled like little school girls, cheeks flushed and eyes closed in mirth; only stopping when a sudden wall appeared, blocking the warm sunshine, and shadowing over you. the wall being none other tanaka, suga following behind.

“kiyo~!” tanaka coos, leaning over his fiancé. “you look hot- uh, i mean it’s pretty hot, y’know.”

kiyoko simply raises an arched brow, listening to tanaka’s rambling; which quickly turned into the latter throwing the her over his shoulder, and running back towards the pool. she hadn’t even protested at his manhandling, taking to sending you a look that said ‘what can i do?’. with the two of them gone, your full attention was set on the sight of suga.

now standing next to you, his hazel-brown eyes glanced over your laid out figure in appreciation; entranced with the way your bikini top dug into the soft flesh of your breasts, drawing attention to the deep valley of your cleavage. your own keen eyes took in the sight of his slender build; admiring the way his soaked canary trunks hung low on his hips, polyester sticking to his thighs and leaving little to your imagination. with his chest exposed, glistening under the sun as droplets of water slid down his toned stomach - it suddenly felt as if the air had become ten degrees warmer.

“hey there, this seat taken?” suga asks, tilting his head and running a hand to push back the damp, grey strands out of his face.

“oh, this seat?” you ask, gesturing to the lounge chair you were occupying.

your brow’s furrow slightly in confusion, though you gasp when he trails ticklish fingers over your thigh, before squeezing the soft flesh. “no, this one.”

chuckling, you hold your left hand up, wiggling your jewelled ring finger in front of you. “sorry sir, i’m a taken woman.”

suga just grins at you cheekily, leaning forward to press his soft lips against your own. this kiss is brief, but the lingering taste of his mango chapstick and chlorine has you a bit dazed; allowing him to part your legs and slide himself right between them. laying on his stomach, your legs rest by his sides, his fingers teasing the hem of your bikini bottoms.

“ah yes, that you are, sweetheart. and i’m the lucky man who gets to call you mine.” with his cheek is smushed against your thigh, his words come out slurred; but the dreamy look in his eyes as he stares up at you is clear.

“and i’m lucky to have you, koushi.” you whisper in return, the weight of him over you is comforting and you find yourself leaning back into the lounger; as suga nestles himself closer into you.

“mmm, i love this...laying right here between your thighs, sweetheart.”

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alloftheimaginesblog · 3 years

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Life Without Colour {PART TWO}

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

taglist: @domainoflostsouls forgetthisbull handon-h-art yourspecialcrush giulsgotmusic

As morning crept in through the blinds, you opened your eyes. It had been a horrendous night. You’d slept for a couple of hours, if that, all in and every time you woke up, you felt like crying. You opened your eyes to see wonderous colour, everything was so colourful and it shocked you but my god, you wished that your vision was still black and white. If your vision had been black and white everything would’ve been fine and you would be happy. You would’ve given up anything to have black and white vision back. Black and white vision wasn’t so bad, I mean, it always felt like you were trapped inside a 50s sitcom but that was pretty cool! Though now with colour you could easily see what your clothes looked like...

Steve was still sound asleep beside you. His alarm would go off in an hour or so. Carefully, you got out of bed trying not to wake him as you went to wander through Steve’s apartment. You were grateful that Steve’s décor was darker and more muted colours; dark blues and browns (and you knew what colours they all were because during the night, you’d found some YouTube Kids videos telling you all the different types of colour. You liked red and you really liked yellow). You spend a while walking around the apartment and looking out the window, watching the sun come up. Your stomach flips and you feel sick as you see a photo of Steve and Bucky; the same photo that you’d seen so many times before except now it’s in colour and you can see Bucky’s dark eyes and Steve’s bright eyes. Taking a breath, trying to push the nausea away, you wish it had been Steve’s eyes that you saw. You wish Steve’s bright blue eyes had been the first ones you saw in colour.

Your mind refuses to stop picturing Bucky and that first moment of seeing colour crashing over you like a wave. The guilt hits you like a train as you stare at the photo. How could you love Steve Rogers and yet have Bucky Barnes be your soulmate? You needed help; you needed some form of guidance, someone to talk to that wasn’t Bucky Barnes.

Steve finds you sitting on the couch, staring at the photo of the pair, fifteen minutes later. He pads over to you, realising that you’re in a daydream of sorts, “Sweetheart?” He says softly sitting on the couch beside you.

You tore your eyes from the picture and stared at him, once again the colour of his eyes surprising you. Quickly, you set the photo down and pull him onto the couch, “Steve, I have to tell you something.”

Steve brushes your hair out of your face, frowning in concern. He could tell something was eating away at you, he noticed it last night at the party. He’d hoped it had just been the migraine but now, seeing the fear in your eyes, he wondered if it was something else entirely. He asks if you’re okay, asks what’s wrong and you open your mouth and then shut it. You need to tell him. A relationship shouldn’t have secrets or lies and you had always been honest with Steve. Steve valued honesty and truth among all else, he valued loyalty and yet, here you were, keeping the biggest secret of your life from him.

He repeats the question, “What’s going on?”

You shake your head and plaster a smile on your face, “I was just thinking that I’d go see Nat today,” you told him, “She was telling me about her and Bruce yesterday but never got to hear much of the story before my migraine kicked in.” It wasn’t a lie, you were waiting to hear more of Nat and Bruce’s story but that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to go and see her. You wanted Nat’s opinion on everything; you wanted her to tell you what you were supposed to do.

Steve nodded his head slowly, “Are you okay, (y/n)? You’ve not seemed quite right since last night at the party.” No, I’m not right at all, Steve! My soulmate is your best friend! How do I tell you that? How am I meant to tell you that without destroying you?

“Yeah, everything’s fine, love,” you smile at him, “The migraine’s away but I barely slept.” He looks at you with that stare, the one where he’s trying to figure out if you’re telling him the truth, “Honestly, Steve, I’m okay. I’m absolutely exhausted but I’ll have a cup of coffee and go see Nat and I’ll be fine. Must’ve been the champagne last night, I only had one glass but you know I’m not a big drinker and you know Stark buys the expensive stuff.”

Steve relents with a sigh, he’s unsure but you seem to be talking a little more, “Okay, just remember that I’m here for you if you need me...” He stands up, stretching and you smile as you look at him. He is one fine specimen. He notices you admiring his muscles, “You think these are impressive?” He chuckles, “You should’ve seen me before the serum.”

You laugh, a real genuine laugh, and for a few seconds, you forget about everything. Things were just so real and easy with Steve, “I would’ve loved to have met you back then you know.”

Steve scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re way out of my league right now never mind back then.”

“I’m serious,” you say as you follow him into the kitchen, “Steve, you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I would love you in every lifetime and every size or shape. Skinny, pre serum Steve would’ve been just as perfect. The serum changed the way you look but it never changed the way you act or the way you think. That’s all you and what do I always tell you?”

Steve smiles as he makes the coffee, “You love the way I think.” He looks up at you and you smile at him. Everything was always easy with Steve; it always had been, even on that very first day.

The rain poured down, splashing onto the sidewalk. You pulled your jacket tighter around you as you tried to back further into the wall. You’d been waiting outside a café for over thirty minutes waiting for your date to show up. So far, nothing. You’d text and left a voicemail asking if he was on his way but no answer. You huffed as you shook your head, “Bloody men.”

You go to turn and walk away, knowing that you’d been stood up and didn’t want to hang around for nothing, when you almost bump into something or rather someone, “Sorry, I was going to ask if you wanted my umbrella.” He asked with a smile, “But you started cursing out men and honestly, it’s a little intimidating.”

You looked up at him and smiled, well he wasn’t your soulmate but that was okay, you didn’t need colour to know that he was ridiculously good looking, “Sorry, I, uh, I got stood up so I’ve been standing in the rain for nearly forty minutes. I even went to the effort of putting on a whole new outfit and curling my hair!”

The man sighs, “I’m sorry to hear that, how about I buy you a cup of coffee?” He holds his hands up when you look at him concerned, “I just wanna be nice, that’s all. If you hate me, you never have to see me again.”

You find yourself laughing and shrugging, “Oh, what the hell- sure... I’m (y/n).”

“Steve, Steve Rogers.”

It hits you then. Of course, “You’re Captain America!”

Steve nods, “I hope that’s not an issue?”

You shake your head, “Not at all but... why does someone like you want to go on a date with someone like me? I mean you look like that and I look like...” you look down at your soaked outfit, “a drowned rat.”

His laugh is lovely, you realise as it comes booming out of him, “Someone like me? I look like this now but before the war, I was a scrawny five foot four kid with too many health issues to count and someone like you? You mean someone beautiful with a gorgeous smile?” He opens the café door, “Shall we?”

A cup of coffee with Captain America, you muse in your head as you sit at the table in the small café waiting for him to bring you back your drinks, your mom would have a field day with this one. You shrug your jacket off and hang it over the back of the chair, thankful that your jacket had kept the rain from soaking you straight to the bone.

Steve appeared a minute later, two coffees and two muffins, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted something to eat so I got us muffins.”

“Thanks,” you smile, happily taking a bite out of it. Steve sits down and you suddenly feel rather awkward as he smiles at you. You’re not soulmates. Your vision is still black and white so... what was the point?

Steve seems to read your mind, “We’re not soulmates... It’s okay.” You breathe a sigh of relief and Steve can see you visibly relax.

“Yours is still black and white?”

He shakes his head, taking a sip of the coffee, “No, I... I met my soulmate a long time ago.”

“Oh?” you pause and he can see your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“It was during the war we met,” he goes onto explain, “Things couldn’t really go anywhere since I woke up in the twenty first century... She died a couple of years ago.”

Well, shit. “Oh god, Steve, I’m so sorry. That’s... That’s horrible.”

Steve smiles, appreciating your genuine sympathy, “It’s okay,” he shrugs, “besides, I like to think I can make my own destiny; that there’s more than one person in the world that could be a match for me.”

A smile spreads onto your face. He was like a breath of fresh air, the way he spoke about things with such hope... it was inspiring. No wonder he was Captain America; everything America should have been, “I like the way your mind works.” And it’s true. You’d never met anyone who was so hopeful. Everyone you met followed the rules and stuck by them but Steve, despite his past and despite his definite trauma, he remained hopeful for a better future.

He asks about you and your situation, “Still black and white,” you tell him, “I have to send pictures of my outfits to my sister who met her soulmate years ago just to see if the colours go well together.” He laughs, “I’m in no rush to find my soulmate, if I ever find them. I don’t believe too much in it either.”

The pair of you look across the table at one another and smile and it’s an unspoken agreement of ‘are we going to do this?’. Steve takes a sip of coffee, hiding a bashful smile from behind the mug, “You know, I’m real glad your date stood you up.”

His kiss on your temple as he slides your mug of coffee over to you breaks you out of your trance, “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I’m real glad my date stood me up,” you murmur with a smile.

A slow grin spreads on his face, “Yeah, me too...”

Once you’ve eaten breakfast, gotten dressed and ready for the day ahead, you text Nat and ask her if you can come over. She responds right away telling you to come by whenever. You get ready to leave and say bye to Steve, who’s using a laptop looking up something else that Sam told him about.

“I’ll be home soon,” you say, kissing his hair, “Text me if you’re wanting me to pick up anything while I’m out.”

“I love you,” Steve calls as you’re pulling on your sneakers.

A pang of guilt hits you and you take a deep breath, “I love you too, Steve.”

You leave.

The drive to Natasha’s apartment is a short one and it helps that you’re breaking most of the traffic laws to get there. You need to tell someone. Honestly, at this rate, you’ll be having stomach ulcers with the stress. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe this wasn’t such a big deal... Maybe you would tell Nat and she would roll her eyes and tell you that it would be fine, to tell Steve and don’t talk to Bucky again. You hoped that it could be that easy but really... would it be?

Natasha immediately knew something was wrong, “Have you slept?” She asked, noting the dark circles under your eyes and your stressed appearance.

“Couple of hours.”

“What’s going on?”

“Coffee and then we’ll talk.” Nat nods and goes to the kitchen so prepare the coffee. Her apartment is bare but stylish. It’s not very personable but she wasn’t very personable so it makes sense. Nat always told you that she was ready to up and leave if she needed to. You follow her into the kitchen to see her lifting down two blue mugs, “Actually, can I get that red mug that’s on the top shelf?”

Nat nods and reaches up. Then she realises what you just said, “No fucking way.” You sigh, sitting at the kitchen island as she stares at you, throwing question after question at you, “You can see colour? When? How? Who?!”

“Coffee first, please.”

Natasha Romanoff has never moved faster in her life as she makes that cup of coffee and has it sitting in front of you within thirty seconds. She demands to know everything, “When?!”

“Last night at Stark’s party.”

Natasha snaps her fingers, “I knew something wasn’t right! You left so early and didn’t even say goodbye, by the way. Tony said you had a migraine but I thought something was off.”

You nodded, “Yeah, the colour was overwhelming and it gave me a migraine. It’s still pretty overwhelming, to be honest.”

Natasha leaned forwards, elbows propped onto the kitchen counter, “Is it...”

You shake your head, looking at your hands, “No... It’s not Steve.”

She curses under her breath, “Damn... I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how difficult that is but... doesn’t mean everything’s doomed. Who is it?”

All of a sudden, you can’t say anything; all you can do is stare at the coffee. Natasha begins to list of names, “Stark? Thor? Galactica man? Fury? Parker-”

“Nat, he’s seventeen!”

She holds up her hands, “Wanda? Strange? Sam? Maria Hill? Oh my god, is it me?” You roll your eyes at her and then she says it, “Bucky?” Your bottom lip trembles and Natasha’s jaw drops, “Bucky?! Bucky Barnes?” A nod is all you can muster, “Holy shit! I knew the universe is fucked but I didn’t realise it’s this fucked!”

“You said it doesn’t mean everything’s doomed, tell me it’s not doomed, Nat.”

“What did Steve say?! Holy shit, I can’t believe that. No wonder you didn’t sleep.” She sees your eyes lower, “You have told him, haven’t you?”

“I tried,” you whisper, “I tried, Nat. I-I couldn’t.” She sighs heavily, “It’s bad, isn’t it? It’s real bad.”

She nods, “Yeah, it’s gonna be bad.” The two of you are silent as you sip at the coffee, trying to figure out what the next move is. It feels good to talk about it with someone; feels much better to share the load with someone who isn’t Bucky.

“I don’t know how to tell him,” you say eventually, voice cracking with emotion, “I mean, how do you tell your boyfriend that his best friend is your soulmate?” Nat doesn’t have the answers and you know she doesn’t. She can’t tell you what to do. Bucky couldn’t tell you what to do either. You have to figure it out by yourself.

“Tell me everything.”

So you tell her everything. You tell her about seeing him, about going to get air, about Bucky finding you and having a secret conversation with him, about the migraine and about going home with Steve, “The worst part of it is... Bucky’s eyes were the first pair I saw in colour. How many times have I said to you even if Steve wasn’t my soulmate, how many times have I said I wanted his eyes to be the first ones I look into with colour vision? I feel like I’ve betrayed him.”

Nat’s hand reached out, clasping yours from across the table, “This isn’t your fault. I know that if you had your way, you would’ve seen colour with Steve from that very first glance. If not Steve, you would’ve picked me, obviously.” You laugh slightly, “Steve will understand that you didn’t want or mean for this to happen. His soulmate is someone else as well.”

“But his is dead. My soulmate is another Super Soldier who has a freaking metal arm and used to be an assassin!”

“Don’t knock assassins,” she scolds with a smile, “I’ve seen the way you and Steve are together and I know that you’re the real deal, soulmate or not. You know that too. Your talk with Bucky seems like you two are pretty okay with nothing happening between the pair of you and that’s a good first step.”

“What do I do?”

She squeezed your hand and gave you a small smile, “You know what to do.”

You let out a long breath and nodded slightly, “I have to tell Steve.”

Natasha smiled. She was one of your closest friends, she seemed to understand you pretty well. She understood your anguish and your pain and she would always listen to your problems. Steve was close with Nat for the exact same reasons. She helped and she listened. Natasha had welcomed you practically with open arms (except she hated hugs) when Steve introduced you to her. Straightaway she knew that you two were made for each other, even if the universe didn’t think it. She made a comment that stuck with you to this day, ‘You both make each other a better person. You share the load and take turns of carrying the burdens. It’s not common that happens.’

To distract you, she updated you on her and Bruce Banner saying that he’d finally asked her out and their date was tonight, “I’m sorry. I know the last thing you want to deal with is my relationship problems,” you apologised as she told you.

“Don’t be silly, I’d rather help you than worry about what I’m meant to say on this date! I’ve not been on a date in years!”

“You’ll be fine,” you laughed, draining the last of your coffee, “You know that the pair of you are soulmates just... no work talk.”

Natasha looked like a deer caught in the headlights, “No work talk? What am I meant to talk about?!”

“I don’t know... the weather?”

The redhead rolled her eyes, “I’m not taking advice from someone who’s dating their soulmate’s best friend.”

“Low blow,” you said laughing. She did always know how to lighten the mood, “You’ll be fine, Nat.” As if on cue, you get a text, “It’s Steve... asking when I’m coming home. Can’t put it off any longer.” Standing, Nat tells you that she’s proud of you.

“It won’t be easy but... it’s the right thing to do.”

In the car ride over, you had rehearsed what you’d say to Steve. You would tell him everything that happened, you’d tell him about Bucky, about the conversation you had with him, about the real reason why you had a migraine and you’d apologise for not telling him as soon as it happened. You were scared but fear isn’t a real excuse to not do the right thing. You hoped that he wouldn’t hate you. You hoped that he would forgive you for not saying something sooner.

As you open Steve’s apartment door, you hear laughter... You frown as you close the door behind you, “Steve?” You call out.

“(y/n), you’re home,” Steve replies, “We’re in here.”

“Who’s we?” You ask, kicking off your shoes and peering around the corner, “Oh.” You don’t look at the figure sitting next to Steve. You can’t. You’ll lose your composure and everything will be a mess again.

Steve grinned, “Bucky thought he’d stop by, isn’t that great?”

You force a smile, “Amazing! I’m going to go make myself some lunch.” Quickly, you rush into the kitchen, trying to slow your heartrate. What the fuck is he doing here?!

That’s when someone clear their throat from behind you, “I brought the coffee mugs we used back...” Bucky Barnes was the last person you wanted to see right now and now, here he was, standing in your kitchen trying to make conversation with you?! Universe, you and I need to have a good long chat.

“Why are you here?” Your voice is harsher than it should be but you’re annoyed. You’d agreed to only see each other when necessary not randomly! You thought that you’d be able to tell Steve yourself without unwelcome guests such as Bucky.

“Steve said you were out and I thought I’d be okay to see him for a few hours!” Bucky’s just as annoyed apparently not wanting to see you much more than you wanted to see him. He’s annoyed that you’re annoyed. You turn to him, glaring into those blue eyes, “Look, I know you hate me for fucking things up but... I needed to see you.”

“Why?!” You’re whisper shouting at each other and you were so glad that Steve didn’t have super hearing.

“Because I- I can’t stop thinking about you!” He hisses, arms flailing as his eyes bore into your soul, “I never slept because I couldn’t get you out of my head!”

You’re breathing hard as you look at him. He couldn’t sleep because he was too busy thinking of you? “You couldn’t sleep either?” Bucky cocks his head in confusion, “Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw were yours.” You explained and you give a bitter laugh, “Forgive me for being annoyed but I wanted the first colour I saw to be Steve’s eyes, not yours so yeah, I’m a little pissed.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Oh, I’m sorry, princess,” he scoffs, “If I had it my way, I wouldn’t have picked you to be my soulmate. Plenty more people better.” The comment stings. You don’t know Bucky at all, all you know is what Steve told you of him but so far, he had made a terrible impression. Though to be fair, you’d said similar things to him so... Immediately, he groans and realises how big of a dick he looks, “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just- It’s-”

“Complicated. I know... I’m sorry that I’ve been a bit of a bitch. I never thought that this would happen. I’m stressed and I feel like I’m going to get a stomach ulcer from the stress.”

Bucky nods, “I’m sorry too... I’m sorry for showing up here too. Steve said you’d be out but I was hoping to see you again. I couldn’t sleep last night because I couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if I’d met you first.”

“Bucky...” Your voice is a warning. A warning to not break over that threshold because once you break it, there’s absolutely no fixing it. It’s a warning that nothing will happen between the two of you.

He realises and quickly straightens, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just... Just don’t go there,” you say with a nod as you turn around and open the fridge. You pull out some leftovers from your dinner the night before and go to the microwave to reheat it. The pair of you are quiet; the only noise to be heard is the hum of the microwave, “We should tell him,” you say eventually.

Bucky sighs. He too felt terrible for lying to Steve but he thought that hiding it was the easier thing to do, “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

You nod as the microwave beeps, “We have to tell Steve.”

“Tell me what?” Steve asks, walking into the kitchen and placing some dirty dishes on the counter, “What’s going on? You okay?” Your eyes fleet between Steve who remains happy yet confused and Bucky who won’t stop staring at you with the deep stare.

Oh, fuck.

#one shot #life without colour #lwc #marvel #avengers #marvel one shot #avengers one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve/reader/bucky #series #marvel series #plus size series #reader insert

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 1

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, mentions of death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia and other warnings to be added

This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Someone’s watching you.

Note: This one’s gonna be a bit creepy as it features a serial killer and stalking and all sorts of creepery. It’ll be about two or three parts!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The bleak headline glared across your screen as bleaker weather fogged the glass of your window.

'Grisly murder suspected to be connected to previous incident'.

You shivered as the steam rose from your mug and the smell of roasted bean filled your nose. The city was on edge. Death was not unfamiliar but killings so methodical were. There was a pattern that no one could deny, even if the media left out certain bloody details.

You tapped the porcelain and turned to look at the misty cityscape beyond your building. The city had a pulse; the car horns, the puffing manholes, the endless parade of footsteps on the pavement. The immortal metropolitan was unaffected by its mortal occupants.

You closed the window on your phone as you turned back. You couldn’t finish the article. To think that any human could do that to another; that any should suffer at the hands of another… One could never truly be immune to the helpless despair. It was a chance that set one in the hands of a monster, as much chance kept one from the same fate.

You finished your coffee and ate a bagel before you readied for another day lost in the sea of people below. Another day at your desk answering phones and staring at a screen between greeting many who acknowledge your existence with impatient disdain.

The same daily ritual in the mirror; another department store blouse, another grey skirt, another pair of low pumps. You grabbed your pea coat and your leather tote and hurried out to catch your train. Twenty minutes with your favourite podcast before you pulled the cord and ran off into the concrete jungle.

Another coffee at your desk; the watery fare from the staff room machine. You sat and began your work. Fake smiles and a sickly sweet voice for every caller and visitor to the small office. Log this, change this, email that. The mindless toil bearable only for the promise of your box-like apartment and its tiny comforts.

You never stayed in the office for lunch. Not anymore. It made the days suffocating, even on rainy or snowy days. You went to the park to eat, although sometimes you weren’t hungry. You watched the ducks or the shedding trees or the teens playing hooky and puffing none so subtly near the bushes.

When you returned, you felt at least that your break hadn’t been wasted even if it had only been more sitting. Ring, ring, click, click, tap, tap, cough, cough. The hours wore on in monotony. Nothing unexpected, nothing more than tedium. The most exciting part was when the clock bid you to leave.

You were almost so lost in the endless banality that you didn’t notice the man behind you until you boarded the train. Until you sat and took out your phone. You pretended to be enraptured by the screen as you scrolled through unread emails and peeked up at him. He stood by the door. His eyes avoided yours.

When you stood at your stop, he did not move. Not until the door began to close and you were near the turnstiles. His shadow was a fleck at the edge of your vision. He was definitely following you. You thought of the article, and its precursor the week before; the suggestion that the murderer had already amassed half a dozen victims. You shrugged away the paranoia and climbed the old filthy steps to ground level.

As you turned the corner onto your street you stopped and waited. The man nearly passed you as he came around the bend and you cleared your throat. You gripped your keys in your fist, ready to stab the man with the largest one.

“You following me?” You asked as pedestrians bumped into him and passed by.

He moved out of their path and stood beside you against the wall. He smiled to himself and scoffed. His blue eyes ran you up and down and you felt as if you’d seen him before. As if you knew him from somewhere. You just couldn’t place it.

“I am.” He confessed. “You’re very… observant.”

“You’re not very subtle,” you countered.

He lifted his head and reached inside his jacket. He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. Capitals ran across the top; S.H.I.E.L.D. and below a name and picture; James Buchanan Barnes. You sighed and crossed your arms. Your spine went rigid. What on earth could he want from you?

“So…” You pushed yourself away from the brick wall, “How exactly can I help a government operative?”

He glanced around and tucked away his wallet. “Is there anywhere private we can talk? You live around here?”

“Private? At least tell me what’s going on?” You huffed.

“For both our safety, you need to wait for that answer,” he hook his thumb in his jean pocket. “But if you don’t give a shit, I can leave you be and see what happens.”

You frowned. You were confused and slightly afraid. You couldn’t guess at what could have brought him to you. A man you’d only ever seen on a screen.

“Fine,” you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, “Across the street.”

He followed you to the curb as the blood swelled in your ears. Your cheeks were hot and a chill gripped your neck. You crossed between the flooded New York traffic, aware of his shadow at your shoulder. His boots barely made a noise on the pavement as your short heels clicked noisily.

You led him into your lobby and fumbled with your keys. You shoved them into the slot and the door clicked open. He grabbed it before you could and waved you inside. You remembered him now. You rarely saw him without another. In your mind, the man didn’t exist exclusive to his old pal, Steve Rogers.

You stopped just inside the door and kept yourself from hitting the elevator button.

“Mr., er, Agent Barnes--” You began.

“Bucky is fine.” He corrected

“How do you even know who I am?” You asked suddenly. “I’m… nobody.”

“As I said, I’d prefer somewhere private,” he urged, “It’s protocol for this type of circumstance.”

“And which type is that?” You challenged as he stepped around you and hit the button.

“The type where you should stop worrying so much about me and more about yourself,” he said as the doors slid open, “Come on.” He stepped inside and turned, “What floor.”

“Third.” You answered as you entered the small box, “I’m in danger?”

He was quiet and his left hand balled into a fist then released as he stared at the numbers. You could hear the strain in the leather glove.

When the doors opened again, he let you off first and kept a step behind you as you led him down the hall to your door. You paused and looked back at him as you picked out the right key. He was impossible to figure out; stone-faced and staunch. You opened your door and welcomed him in with a flutter of fingers.

He shut the door and locked it behind him. You dropped your bag on the shoe rack and kicked your shoes beneath it. Your arches were sore as you backed up and watched him. He looked at his boots and back at you. You shrugged off your jacket and he sighed before he did the same. He reluctantly knelt to unknot the laces of his boots.

“Should I… get you something? Coffee?”

“This isn’t exactly social,” he uttered, “Can we sit? There’s a lot to… explain.”

“Sure,” you led him to the couch and sat. He lowered himself on the other cushion, on the edge as he kept an eye on you.

“Okay, so you’re first question, how do I know who you are?”

He leaned against the arm and dug out his phone. He unlocked it and flicked through its content. He turned it towards you and you frowned at the picture of yourself. You behind your desk, the phone to your ear, as you scribbled on your notepad. He dragged it over and another appeared; you at the grocery store. A third, you at the front door of your building.

“What--”

“These were found at a crime scene.” He interjected. He flipped his phone and searched through the images, “Do you know this woman?”

He showed you the screen again and you shook your head. Whoever she was, she was a stranger to you, although you couldn’t say she didn’t look familiar.

“Her?” He brought up another photo and got the same answer. Three more times as the hair stood on your arms. You didn’t know any of them but they all looked alike. They all looked like you.

“What’s going on?” You asked in a brittle voice.

“You read the news?”

“Sometimes.”

“You’ve heard about the murders? Of the women?”

You nodded and gulped. Your eyes rounded as you trembled in disbelief and fear. “Why are you here though? Why not the cops?”

“They are doing their part and we’re doing ours. You see, we found more than just the photos. Due to security protocols and to protect both of all, I can’t divulge all the evidence I can only say that it brings it under S.H.I.E.L.D. jurisdiction.”

His thumb slid across the screen and revealed another picture. One of the women with a welt across her neck and sloppily down make-up on her face. You blanched and he looked down. He cleared his throat and blackened the screen.

“Sorry,” he put his phone back in his pocket. “You shouldn’t… Look, I know it’s a lot to digest but it’s better you know.”

“But why are you here? I don’t understand… why did he have my picture?”

“From what we can tell, who it is has been following you. These killings seem to be steps on his path to you. He didn’t have anything about the other women. No photos, no writings--”

“Writings?” You gasped.

“Take a breath. Be calm.” He said. “I’m here now. To protect you.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Well, I guess that’s the real bad news.” He said. “I’m gonna be your shadow. Now, since we nearly got this guy and have all his stuff, we know he’s scrambling right now. He’s hiding, waiting to come back to you but we know he’s not dumb enough to do it yet. Which is why I am here at this very moment. When he does return, when he’s watching you, I’ll be watching him.”

“You can’t-- You can’t move me?”

“Scaring him away won’t do anything. You’re safer if we can catch this guy. We can’t let him know that anything’s changed.” Bucky said.

“So… I’m bait?”

“You’re safe.” He insisted. “You’ll have my number, you can call me anytime. And I won’t be far. Not really. And I don’t work alone. You’ll be protected.”

“Why are you telling me then if you’re just going to let him keep following me?”

“Well, we waited until it was crucial to let you know,” he said, “And given his desperate circumstance, we think you should now.”

“Do you know how long--”

“Months, years, we’re still combing through the evidence. We only know he won’t stop.” He shifted on the couch. “And I’m telling you because there’s a few things I need from you.”

“Like what?” You scoffed.

“A key to this place. Just in case. And we’ll need to keep a close eye on you. That means, you’ll have to wear a bug and we’ll be tracking your location.”

“What?” You shook your head. “That’s… a lot.”

“We need to know if anything happens immediately and we need to be able to get to you. If you do this, it will help us get him sooner and hopefully, that means that you won’t have to do it for long.”

“I’ll have to have the key made,” you said quietly.

“I can take care of that,” he stood and you watched him cross the room.

He went to the coat rack and reached into your jacket pocket. He took your keys and set his phone on the small round table just beside the shoes. He placed one key on his screen and it made a chirping noise, he turned it over before doing the second key. He dropped them back into your pocket and grabbed his phone.

“This,” he stirred around in his own jacket, “Has a mic and tracker.” He held up the golden chain with the small pink rose ornament. “Wear this and that’s it. That’s all we need. If you take it off, hang it somewhere it won’t be obstructed.”

“Okay,” you got up slowly and took the necklace from him, “Um, thank you, I guess.”

“Look, I know it’s all a bit fucked up but it’s to keep you safe.” He said. “And you are safe, okay? I’ve dealt with much worse than this creep.”

👁️

There was rarely a morning when you were eager to be awake but that morning came crashing down on you with a sense of doom. You rolled over and opened your eyes. The golden necklace hung from your bedside lamp, dangling, calling to you, reminding you of the man who had stalked you back to your apartment. And the other man who loomed in the shadows. A stranger who apparently knew you well.

You sat up and clipped the necklace around your neck so you wouldn’t forget. Was it Bucky listening to you? Was he even listening so early? You stood and ambled across the room with a yawn. Today, the rain left a sheet of frost on the window. Was it winter so soon?

You drank your coffee without tasting it and chewed on a piece of buttered toast. Your phone buzzed. Private number was all it said but you knew who it was.

‘What time do you leave?’ Bucky asked. You typed in the number and nothing more. He already knew which train you took.

You dressed as you did every day. You pulled the necklace over the collar of your shirt and sighed. You felt awkward as if you were living in a simulation; a facsimile of your meek existence.

Ready to face the day and the unknown, you set out as you flicked away another message; ‘You have a break? What time?’ You’d answer him after you got to work. You couldn’t be staring at your phone knowing that someone was undoubtedly watching you.

You stood on the train, too antsy to sit. You waited by the door, ready to bolt off at the slightest sign of trouble. You played with the rose charm without thinking. Your phone buzzed and you quickly drew your fingers away.

Another message from your private caller. 'There's disturbance on the mic. Stop touching.' You almost laughed. It was comical. You'd be an awful spy but you weren't anything close. You were prey.

What would have happened if those pictures had not been discovered? You hated to even think of it. So you pushed away the thought and got off the train.

The streets felt darker even as the grey sky paled. Pedestrians were villains, each one sinister and plotting. When you got to work, you were out of breath as you had nearly broken into a sprint.

You sat and clocked in. You took out your phone and responded to the texts but got nothing back. You hung your jacket on the rack in the corner and went about your usual routine but nothing felt usual. The incessant ringing of the phone and the chatter of the office added to the chaos of your mind. You tried to distract yourself with your work but found yourself fidgety and anxious. Every unfamiliar face that walked through the doors was a potential suspect.

When you took your lunch, you stayed in the office. The break room was empty as you sat and your phone vibed in your blazer pocket. You answered the private number and unwrapped your granola bar.

“You on lunch?” Bucky asked, you confirmed with a mumble. “Are you okay?”

“Am I? What’s going on? Anything?” You stilled the crinkling of the wrapper, suddenly sick to your stomach.

“It’s not going to be that easy or fast. Right now, he’s waiting for us to look away but he could also be in a panic which means he could do something impulsive.” Bucky explained.

“Impulsive? What does that mean?”

“Look, you don’t need to be afraid. I got this. This is nothing compared to what I usually--”

“Nothing?! Well maybe you’re used to this but I’m just a secretary, okay? I don’t know what I’m doing or what to do!” Your voice was shrill as you crushed the granola bar in your hand.

“Take a breath,” he said firmly. “Calm down and proceed as usual. I’m here. I’m watching.”

You sniffed and struggled not to hyperventilate. When you finally got your breathing under control you nodded into the phone and murmured a pathetic ‘okay’.

“Hey, you don’t need to be afraid, okay? Not with me around. So far you’ve been lucky. We figured it out before he got to you and now we’re way ahead of him and he doesn’t even know it.” Bucky coaxed.

“Yeah, I guess,” you deflated and stood from the table; restless.

You went to the kettle and flicked it on. Shaena was always offering you peppermint tea; you’d take her up on that. Maybe it would help calm you down.

“How about tonight I’ll come buy with a pizza and we can go over protocol?” He offered. “And it’ll be good for you not to be alone.”

“Pizza?” You frowned.

“Well, you know, I’m sitting on surveillance all day, I don’t exactly get to relax,” he explained. “...you can say no but it’d be my treat.”

“I’m sorry I’m panicking. I’m just… scared. I didn’t sleep-- I--” You choked on your voice. “You don’t mind?”

“Do you?” He returned.

You sighed and opened the cupboard to grab a mug. You tapped your fingers on the countertop.

“This must be really boring for you,” you said. “You don’t have to--”

“If I’m being honest with you, it’s supposed to be freezing tonight and I don’t exactly get to hang around in a five star suite. You’d be doing me a favour and have the extra security of some goon with a metal arm.” He chuckled.

“Alright,” you threw your hand up. “But I don’t like pepperoni.”

“Damn…” he uttered, “Well, I guess we all have to make sacrifices.”

👁️

You were slightly less frantic when you left work. Bucky texted you to assure you he was there… somewhere. You took your usual route. He explained it was best not to change your routine. You didn’t want to tip off the creep.

The train ride was slow and jittery. The frigid air of the looming New York winter crept in between the door and you shivered as you got off at your stop. Your heels clicked around you as you gripped your bag and the phone in your pocket. You struggled not to look around and try to search out your stalker.

You unlocked your door and dropped your bag beside the shoe rack. You kicked off your heels and rubbed your legs together to warm up. You hung your jacket and took your phone out as you began to pace your apartment.

How close was Bucky? How close was the killer?

You kept checking your messages and then slammed your phone on the coffee table. Stop! You were driving yourself crazy. You made yourself sit and flipped on the television. You put on an old sitcom and tried to settle in. You squirmed on the couch and found it difficult to follow the episode.

Your phone lit up suddenly and made you flinch. The sky was already dark through the window as your ringer blared over the television. You reached for your cell; Private Number. You answered clumsily and pressed it to your ear.

“Hello?” You rasped.

Silence. You blinked and repeated your greeting. Still, the line was quiet. You shook your head and hung up. Before you could toss your phone, it shook again and cried out a melody. You answered again.

This time heavy breathing greeted you. It got louder as you listened and a trickle of ice rolled over your spine. You ended the call and stared at your phone. A third call. You slowly hit the green icon and then turned the phone to speaker.

“Don’t you ever hang up on me.” A man snarled in a crackly voice, “Ever.”

“Who… who is this?”

“Shhh, baby girl, I won’t hurt you. I just want to make sure you’re safe.” He said, “That’s all I want.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” You gulped.

Another silence. This one long and exaggerated, pierced only by a metallic whisper. “...You,” he purred darkly, “I want you, baby girl. I want your blood, I want your screams.” You shook as you dropped the phone, his voice muffled but his words clear, “I want that precious little cunt.”

You sobbed and bent to grab the phone again. Your thumb hovered over the red button.

“Baby girl, I told you about hanging up on me. I hope that’s not what you’re thinking of now.”

You said nothing as your eyes burned with frightened tears and you looked down at your necklace. Could Bucky hear? Where was he?

“Soon, I promise, we can be together,” the stranger cooed, “You and me. All alone.” He took a deep breath, “All mine.”

“Please, leave me--”

The line clicked and went dead. You stared at your phone and jumped at the sudden knock on the door. Your fingers curled around your cell and you stood. You crossed to the door. You peeked through the peephole. Bucky stood with a pizza box. You opened the door sharply.

“Where were you?” You snapped.

“What?”

“He just called!” You nearly shouted.

“Keep it down,” he warned as he stepped inside and you retreated. He closed the door and locked it. “He called?”

He went to the kitchen and set the pizza down. “Just now?”

“I thought you were listening? I had him on speaker.”

“I… I’ll have to play it back. I was on my way, I didn’t--”

“You-- you-- The things he said,” you croaked, “You can’t imagine and, and… how did he get my number? You said he would be hiding!”

“Well, these things aren’t exactly cookie cutter--”

“What if he’s watching me right now? Looking in through my window and--” Your voice was shrill as you rung your hands and brushed by Bucky. He followed you to the window as you twisted the blinds shut. “He’s going to kill me like he did all those girls. He’s going to--”

“Come on,” Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the window, “Just breathe.” He turned you to him and placed his hands on your arms. He rubbed them through your blouse. “In, out…” He began to guide you, “On my count; one, in, two, out…”

Your eyes rounded and you struggled to calm yourself. You were shaking but managed to measure your breaths in time with his voice.

“That’s it,” his hands framed your face as he leaned in to look you in the face, “I’m here now and if you need me to, I’ll stay all night.”

You nodded dumbly and grabbed his forearms. His metal thumb stroked your cheek and you slowly pulled his hands away.

“Bucky…” You whispered as he slowly dropped his hands. “Thank you.”

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 5

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: A call with one of your bosses threatens to split you and Din apart.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,075

Warnings: Reader experiences a panic attack, use of a swear word, angst, reference to most recent Mandalorian episode so I guess it’s kind of spoiler-ish, hurt/comfort and more angst

Author Note: All the love to everyone who follows along with this series! I joined AO3 recently so all these parts will be on there as well at LittleMissPascal. I’m actually really nervous about the response to this particular segment so...be gentle, please ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 4 and Part 6

Photo Inspiration:

“Cupid 1-1-7, am I hearing you correctly? You said there was an explosion?”

You scrub a hand over your face, biting back a sigh lest the comlink picks it up. “Not a literal one, sir. I’m still not sure what happened, just that when my client touched a potential match’s hand there was this...invisible blast of energy or something.”

The silence on the other end is enough to make you want to slam your head against the wall of the Razor Crest. You’d called headquarters as soon as you and Din had returned to his ship, figuring if anyone had a clue as to what the hell had happened it’d be one of your superiors.

After twenty minutes of explaining your predicament not once, but three times, you’re beginning to realize you were evidently mistaken.

“Remind me again, Cupid 1-1-7, what name was it you referred to this immortal client of yours as?” Over the comlink, your boss’ voice sounds as if he’s gargling jagged rocks, deep and throaty. You can imagine the narrowed-eyed look he’d be giving you in person and you’re grateful you’re not currently having this conversation over a holoprojector.

“I didn’t.”

Your eyes drift to the ladder leading up to the cockpit where Din is located. Something inside of you is insistent you keep Din’s identity hidden from your superiors. It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, certainly not with any of your former clients. Part of you thinks of the sensation as possessiveness, but what have you to be possessive of? You have no claim to him, nothing tying you to one another.

“Interesting,” your boss says, dry as the Dune Sea.

“My client is high-profile, sir. He asked me to remain discreet and I intend to uphold his request.” You clutch the comlink against your chest, taking deep breaths to keep yourself calm as you wait to hear if he believed your lie or not.

“This...incident you’ve described, it does bring to mind an event in history with similar details.” There is a shuffling sound that echoes over the device, resembling papers being picked up and flipped through. He hums, a long drawn out note that makes your skin crawl. “Yep, here’s the report right here, referencing an outburst erupting as a result of the physical contact between a potential pair.”

You wait for more information, drumming your fingers against a nearby crate.

“Unfortunately, you are not of rank to hear the specifics.”

“But—”

“I must say though, the Moff will be most interested in this development,” he continues, ignoring your protest as if you hadn’t opened your mouth at all.

Heart lodging in your throat at the mention of the head seraph, you manage to choke out, “I really don’t think that’s necessary, Mr. Hess.”

“That’s sir to you, Cupid 1-1-7.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Forgive me, sir.” You’re two seconds from babbling yourself off a cliff and you can’t find the off switch for your mouth. “It’s just. Moff Gideon is so busy, as I’m sure you know, and I would hate to bother him with this case when I have everything under control—”

“Except that you clearly don’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t have made this call.”

His words hit you like a punch, silencing you.

“The Moff will hear about this, as well as your breaking protocol by concealing information from your superior when directly asked. No doubt he will be as displeased about your behavior as I am.”

Your eyes fall shut as you listen, slumping against the ship’s wall and sliding down onto the cold floor. You feel disconnected from the situation, as if he’s discussing someone else’s fate instead of your own.

“In the meantime,” his voice drones on, adding more weight to the pressure on your chest. “I will permit you forty-eight hours to complete your assignment before I officially relegate it to another Cupid. You will also be ordered to take a reassessment test of your basic understanding of standard Cupid regulations.”

You squeeze your eyes together tighter, feeling like you’re about to throw up. Each breath you take feels pointless, as if there is no longer any oxygen in the air, but you have enough pride left to keep you from having a breakdown with your boss still on the line.

“Do you understand the terms in which I’ve stated to you, Cupid 1-1-7?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Amor vincit omnia.” The parting mantra sounds almost sinister coming from his mouth.

“Amor vincit omnia,” you echo, forcing your voice to remain steady.

The comlink clicks off. The floodgates open not a second later.

You press your palms against your mouth, desperately trying to hold back the sobs that wrack your body so they don’t disrupt the silence of the cargo hold. The tears streaming down your face refuse to be stifled though, burning your eyes as they fall. Your head pounds in rhythm with your heartbeat, a frantic drumming counting down the seconds until you either scream or pass out. Or both.

It’s an ugly, hysterical kind of crying that can’t be stopped once started, not even when you hear movement from the ladder right before Din slides down it, boots thudding loudly against the floor.

And then it seems like Din is right there in front of you without ever having moved, unnaturally fast and stealthy, gloved fingers resting on your shoulders. He’s taken off his helmet, brown eyes full of such concern it only makes you cry harder seeing them, further increasing his worry.

“Are you hurt? Tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he murmurs, a note of franticness in his voice as he looks you over for injuries, finding none except for the few scratches along your arms you’d received earlier when you landed in the dirt.

You shake your head when he tries to move your hands away from your face, emitting a choked hiccup that threatens to crack your already-bruised rib cage with its intensity.

“Angel, you’ve got to breathe, okay?” Din says, soft and soothing. You blink through your watery vision, finding his gaze again, and he offers you a small, reassuring smile. “In and out. Just like this.” He inhales a purposefully deep breath, then slowly releases it without once breaking eye contact.

You try to copy him, but your nose is stuffed with snot and your lungs hitch with another round of sobs, ruining your attempt.

“Can I…?” Din again reaches for one of your hands, this time hovering without attempting direct contact, waiting for your consent.

Trembling, it feels like a monumental task to remove your hand from where it’s glued to the top of your other one still covering your mouth. Din grabs onto your wrist and brings your hand to his chest plate, pressing it against the cool beskar.

“Together, okay? In and out.”

He continues his litany of encouragement, patient and calm, and gradually your heaving sobs begin to lose their power, enabling you to reclaim control of your lungs. Catching your breath, you begin to wipe away the lingering tears with the hand not still held gently in Din’s grip.

“Sorry,” you sniff, embarrassed. The beginning ache of a migraine starts to form in the back of your head, worsening when you try to move too quickly, and you bite back a wince.

His grip on your wrist tightens in admonishment. “There’s no need to be,” he says, but your ears detect his thinly restrained anger. “Who were you speaking to?”

“He’s one of my superiors. Valin Hess,” you answer, biting your lip.

“I should have him wiped clean from the galaxy for making you cry,” Din hisses, a snarl on his face and eyes darkening with rage.

Face to face with anyone else, you would have felt terrified being so close to such open hostility. But this is how Din expresses his overprotective nature, making himself a more dangerous threat than the enemy, and for that reason, you could never be scared of him.

“Din, listen to me,” you say, curling your hand in his grasp until he yields to your movements and allows you to intertwine your fingers with his gloved ones. “What happened on Sorgan when you touched Omera’s hand, Hess said it wasn’t the first time something like that has happened. He wouldn’t give me the details though because I’m not high enough rank.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware Cupids had any kind of ranking system.”

“It’s based on how long you’ve existed. I’ve only been a Cupid for fifty years now, barely made any kind of lasting imprint on the galaxy.”

“Don’t say that,” he mutters, shooting you a stern look. “You’ve made a bigger impact than you could ever know.”

Struck momentarily speechless, you can only watch as he moves to sit on the floor beside you, clasped hands settling between his thigh and yours. The pauldron on his shoulder presses against the upper half of your arm and you tilt your head until your temple rests against it.

“That’s not what made you upset,” Din says.

You don’t need to shake your head, confirming the truth he already knows, but you do anyway, comforted by the cold metal rubbing across your forehead.

“What did he tell you, angel?”

You know by how he squeezes your hand that he genuinely wants to hear what happened. You know he must hear it from you because no one else can break the news. And you know you cannot lie to him because Hess’ intervening affects him even more than it does yourself. Still, in spite of knowing all of this, the words don’t come out any easier.

“I have only two days to figure out who your soulmate is before he reassigns you another Cupid.”

Din goes abruptly stiff. “What.”

“Because of the explosion and then also because I broke protocol by refusing to say you were my client, Hess believes I’m not handling things well and should be replaced by someone better.”

If you hadn’t known Din was immortal, you would think he died with how still he remains at your side. Leaning back with increasing worry, you see him staring forward across the cargo hold, granting you only a glimpse of the side of his face.

He...Oh, Maker.

He looks kriffing pissed.

“Din—”

“How...” he cuts himself off, nostrils flaring as he clenches his jaw. “How could they ever think there is anyone better than you?”

For the job, you tell yourself, not allowing your hopes to rise. He means there isn’t anyone better for the job.

“I’m just a Cupid,” you tell him weakly, shrugging a shoulder. “I—”

“Stop talking poorly about yourself,” he snaps, the closest he’s ever come to yelling at you, turning to meet your gaze with fire burning in his eyes. You swallow thickly, his intensity making you feel like cornered prey.

When he speaks again, his baritone voice has become a low murmur, each word carefully chosen and bleeding sincerity. “Everything you said about knowing who your soulmate is—I want to experience all of it with you. Only you. You’re it for me, angel.”

You freeze, unable to believe what you’re hearing, train of thought coming to a screeching halt. For the second time during this conversation, you’ve lost your voice, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.

“You’re it for me,” he repeats, sounding as if he’s pleading for you to believe him. “So tell your bosses to go fuck themselves. You’re the only Cupid I could ever want by my side.”

The reference of your designation is like dumping a bucket of ice water over your head, shocking your entire system. You wrench yourself away from him, stumbling onto your feet.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” you say as you start to pace around the room, hearing the hysterical edge in your own voice.

He stands up, expression warring between confusion and irritation. “I know you feel something too. Why do you keep pulling away from me?”

“Because we can’t be together, Din,” you answer, blinking back the unbidden tears starting to form again. “I’m not your soulmate. It isn’t possible!”

“Angel.” He catches your elbow when you pass by him, forcing you to face him. His voice is brittle when he speaks, already expecting your answer to shatter his wounded heart. “Why can’t you be with me?”

“Because I’ve already met my soulmate. And he wasn’t you.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @eleine-t1d, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk

#din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #Din Djarin #the mandalorian #my writing #death and an angel #my fic #soulmate au #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader

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lune-hime · 3 years

Text

Future (Chocobros x f!Reader)

“How did you imagine our future?”

↞Noctis↠

The blossoms tickled your cheek as you turned to regard the prince. His question was asked with a tone as light as the crisp night air.

“Well, last I checked we were still getting married.” You chuckled, reaching out to idly caress a velvety petal between your fingertips. “It will be a grand wedding, no doubt.”

Noctis hummed contently next to you, your forms spread out in the vast field.

“We can expect nothing less from Specs.” He added. The two of you giggled at the image of a Ignis as a wedding planner.

“What should we do for the honeymoon?” You speculated to the starry sky, gaze getting lost in the endless maze of constellations.

“Sleep.” Noctis replied dreamily. You huffed and shook your head in disbelief, the movement causing petals to fall into your splayed locks.

“How about going fishing?” He proposed. The scowl you gave him caused an amused smile to settle on his smooth features.

“Altissia and a little sleeping and fishing on the side?” He offered in a last ditch attempt to fit his two favorite activities into the plans.

“That sounds more like it.” You sighed happily, letting the coolness of the midnight breeze delicately prickle your skin.

“Y/N.” Noctis cooed, the sound as smooth as the surface of the flowers. You turned back towards him, heart lighting up when you were met with his smile. The euphoria only lasted a moment, however, before the once pleasant chill of the night began giving you goosebumps.

“Promise me something.” He requested in a feigned upbeat tone. You could tell he was trying to mask the sadness in his voice.

You nodded once, watching the corners of his mouth quiver slightly.

“Anything.” You whispered. Noctis’ touch was temperate in contrast to the brisk air as he reached out to run his palm along your jawline.

“Promise me you won’t let me ruin your future."

Every physical aspect of reality had seemed to halt in that moment. You no longer had any sense of time nor of the itchy feeling of the blades of grass against your bare legs. You could no longer see the complex colors of the heavens and the moons seemed like dull street lights in the sky. The cold wind no longer bit at your skin. You felt completely numb to everything except Noctis.

“What?” You choked, suddenly feeling like a rock was lodged into your throat. Noctis’ shook his head, silently telling you not to cry, and flashed you another grin.

“Please do everything we just talked about, either for yourself or with someone who makes you happy.” His voice cracked at the second half of his phrase, but he retained his grin.

“I’m so sorry I’m not able to give you that future, goddess knows I would have given you the entirety of Eos.” His sapphire eyes reflected the dazzling lights in the sky and his gaze was filled with thousands of words he would never be able to say to you.

“Instead of living in my memory, live for my memory, okay?” His eyes softened into a smile of their own as he regarded you like it was the last time he ever would.

Suddenly, you felt the sudden urge to embrace him but before you could throw yourself into his arms, he had disappeared on the wind and you felt yourself being dragged out of the field with a swift tug.

“Rise and shine, Y/N. By the six, we need to find a new expression for that now. Time for another hunt.” Iris sang as she gingerly shook you awake. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you craned your neck to peek out the tent window to regard the dark world that awaited for you. Heaving yourself up from your sleeping back, you rubbed your eyes and cracked your back with a resounding pop before getting to your feet. After slipping on your boots, you gave the jewel around your left ring finger a loving twirl as you walked out to the campsite. Even in the shadows of Eos, the little gem still managed to shine.

“I promise, Noct.”

He was now your past, but you would forever be his future.

↞Prompto↠

He was the personification of a wilting flower. His once bright eyes were now sunken and bordered by heavy bags. He barely showed his dazzling smile anymore, so you had said goodbye to the little dimple on his cheek weeks ago. Even his once vibrant golden locks had seemed to dim in hue along with the rest of the world. When Eos lost its sunlight, so did you.

You barely registered the question he posed into his lukewarm coffee. Your heart broke when you hear the hopelessness in his voice.

Turning towards him, you reached over only to brush past his arm to grab his camera lying on the diner counter. Prompto looked over to you with slight interest, still slumped weakly in his chair. You flipped through the photos, pressure bubbling behind your eyes at the happiness of your youth. He always kept old pictures on his camera to make sure he never forgot what life used to be like. Photos were physical and more tangible compared to memories, anyway. You blinked back the wetness in your eyes until you found it.

Wordlessly you slid the camera over to him, and he picked it up with gentle hands. Once his gaze met the screen, they starting shaking and the camera began to fall from his grasp. You placed your hands firmly over his, securly holding the device in place.

It was a selfie Prompto took of the two of you at Wiz’s Chocobo Post early on in your journey. Sandwiched in between the two of you was your own Chocobo, Blueberry, his periwinkle feathers bristling in excitement and his beak open in mid chirp. Happiness radiated off you and Prompto, your smiles overtook all the other features of your face and the afternoon sun casted a cheerful glow over the image.

Prompto sucked in a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

“This was our future.” You gestured towards the photo with a sad smile. You removed your hands from his and used them to cup his cheeks, turning him to face you. It was the first time in a while you had gotten him to directly look at you.

“And it still is.” You stated, voice unwavering. As you looked into his eyes, all the memories of your Prompto flashed through your mind like the title credits of a movie. A happy smile found it's way to your lips this time.

“You are forever my sunshine, even more now so that the world has grown dark. And we will find the light again.” You sealed your promise to him with a soft kiss, his arms immediately coming to cup your forearms gently. When you pulled away you saw a few stray tears had begun staining his cheeks but more importantly that dazzling smile that could drive the darkness away with one glance.

↞Ignis↠

The soft puff of air that left your mouth tickled the corner of Ignis’ lips. Your hesitation caused his heart to sink. He bit his lip nervously, teeth worrying over the chapped skin. He didn't mean to sour the previously sweet and intimate moment but the question had become a chronic worry of his. The various fictional situations of his disability somehow ruining your constantly ran through his mind and were gnawing on his insides.

In the absence of a response, he felt his intrusive thoughts begin to manifest into reality. Before he could turn away, however, your hands on his chest rose to gingerly clasp onto his cheeks, forcing him to face you. Through his clouded vision, he could only see the shadow of your movements but he knew your features were contorted in the way they did when you were trying to articulate a particular feeling.

“I didn't picture it like this, but I know you didn't either.” You almost laughed, bringing his face closer and looking into those milky green orbs. Although seemingly lifeless, they still sparkled with the same vigor the man had expressed before the incident. Brushing his eyelids shut with gentle fingertips, you replaced your touch with a feather light kiss to both of them. When you pulled back, the look of adoration on Ignis’ face made your heart swell. Who knew such a simple thing like a kiss could calm the tidal waves of insecurity that resided within the man.

“But I wouldn't change a thing, because even though the world went to shit, I still have you. And you are still you no matter what happens.”

↞Gladiolus↠

Gladiolus’ question replaced the comfortable silence between the two of you as you maneuvered through the briarwood. The inquiry made you laugh and you almost slipped at the minor distraction, boots squelching against the muddy ground. Gladiolus, reflexes as nimble as ever, gripped your arm thus preventing you from coming into contact with a sizeable bramble bush.

“Well, our lives haven’t exactly been a fairytale now have they?” You replied sarcastically, the both of you chuckling as he lifted up a low hanging vine so you could step under.

“I mean, sure I obviously thought it would be a lot different than this-” You started, abruptly stopping in the middle of the path much to Gladiolus’ confusion.

“But look.” You smiled, pointing to the sky. Gladiolus followed your finger to the thick canopy of the woods. A clearing in the branches allowed for pale rays of sunlight to seep through the dense foliage, the sun warming his skin and causing him to squint. His eyes started to sting from it’s intensity, but it was a welcoming feeling. What wasn’t welcome, however, was the moisture that began collecting in his eyes.

“And we have this” You stated, taking his hand and guiding it to rest on the slight bump of your stomach. He splayed his palm and rubbed soothing circles against the fabric of your shirt. He regarded you with an adoration he never knew he would get to experience.

“Thank you, Noct, for giving us this future.” Gladiolus said to the sky, his voice thick with a menagerie of emotions. The sun had given back their ability to live, but it was the boy behind the sun that had given Eos a second chance to shine.

↞Bonus↠

“Noct for the thousandth time NO we are not spending our honeymoon at the recreational fishing area.” You retorted over your shoulder as you sped walked to keep up with a swift paced Ignis. Why did he have to have such long legs?

Ignis was simultaneously speed firing you questions regarding the shapes and materials of various dining wares and whether or not you wanted hydrangeas or lilies placed in the center of each table as the three of you maneuvered through the elaborate department store. Well, it was more like the two of you with how far back Noctis was straggling behind. While Ignis was like a worker bee buzzing from section to section, the prince on the other hand was taking a leisurely stroll; touching random items here and there but not regarding them with much enthusiasm. You had told him that it was fine if he didn’t come; you were enjoying planning out your wedding enough for the two of you. But Noctis protested, saying that even though it wasn’t his favorite thing to do, he wanted to be there because at the end of the day it was both your wedding.

Ignis abruptly stopped in front of a vast display of fabrics, carefully inspecting each one with fine detail. You patiently waited behind the advisor, giving Noctis some time to catch up.

“On any other occasion a weekend fishing with you sounds heavenly, but I don’t want to spend our honeymoon smelling like trout and stinky worms.” You stated, grimacing at the thought of your cute outfits smelling like dead fish.

“Which one of these do you fancy would be suitable for the table cloths for the reception?” Ignis inquired, shoving a book of samples into your hands as he slowly moved down the line of textiles. A moment later, Noctis popped up behind you, idly looking at the samples from over your shoulder. Once you noticed his presence, you held them up so he could get a better view.

“Black obviously.” Noctis declared blandly. It was clear to everyone that he wasn’t that into the whole wedding planning process and was more excited for the actual event than having to be involved in everything that went into arranging it. It didn’t help that he had to get up two hours earlier than he normally did either.

“Of course, Noct, but which black.” Ignis exhaled, looking close to short circuiting. The cloth samples were indeed both a dark shade of cobalt, but they differed in pattern and sheen. Taking matters into your own hands you pointed to the silk cloth with intricate silver embroidering.

“This one is pretty, Iggy.” You chimed in, wanting to keep Ignis’ sanity intact and let Noctis be done with the whole process as soon as possible.

“Couldn’t agree more, Y/N. You always have had the better sense of aesthetics out of the two of you.” Ignis praised before immediately moving onto the next item on the list, leaving behind an annoyed Noctis. You choked back a laugh and turned to face him, poking his puffed cheeks until his pout turned into a smile.

“How about we go to Altissia, with some fishing on the side?” He proposed, grasping your hands and lowering them from his face to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“It’s a deal!” You beamed, bouncing on your heels. The excitement on your features set off sparks in Noctis’ chest.

“If I receive some persuasion, maybe we can throw in a few naps in there too.” You added playfully, swaying your entangled hands from side to side.

“Oh, we can do more than just nap.” Noctis grinned, taking his hands out of yours and fluidly moving to lightly tickle your sides, offering an animated shriek from you. Just as you were getting into a small tickle fight, the buzzing of the store’s intercom system activated.

“Stop dilly-dallying lovebirds and lets get a move on, we still have to go to the caterer’s office after this. I am in isle 24, the silverware section.” Ignis’ unamused voice echoed off every surface of the building.

The two of you exchanged a look of disbelief before breaking out into hysterical laughter.

“Better not keep him waiting.” You patted his chest and broke away from his embrace. Noctis rolled his eyes and placed a kiss to your forehead before the two of you ran hand in hand to your lovely wedding planner.

#ffxv #ffxv gladiolus #ffxv noctis #ffxv prompto #ffxv ignis #noctis x reader #Noctis Lucis Caelum #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #gladiolus amicitia #gladiolus x reader #ignis scientia #ignis x reader #ffxv imagines #fanfiction #final fantasy fanfiction #chocobros #chocobros x reader

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bookishofalder · 3 years

Text

Pretty Girl - Two

Summary: In which Flip struggles with his feelings for the reader, and his emotions hit the breaking point when she is threatened.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestion of slur (not written), masturbation, violence, angry Flip, sexism. WC- 3,030

A/N- I rewrote this chapter a few times to get it just right, I really wanted to convey the struggle Flip is having. Feedback is appreciated!

It was late October, the chill in the air crisp as the apple cider (Y/N) had brewed and brought in to the station, using a hot plate to keep it warm. It filled the whole building with the scent, which was a pleasant upgrade from the usual mix of cigarette smoke and body odour and leather. She had even commissioned the local elementary school to draw autumn-themed pictures for decoration. As a way to boost morale and community engagement, she proudly displayed them in the lobby for everyone to admire when they came to and from the station.

Flip had teased her when he found her one morning, standing on a chair to tape the photos up. Now slightly taller than him, she turned with care and playfully glared down at him.

“One more word, detective, and I’ll be assigning you to take over the job,” she threatened, then added, “I should have done that in the first place, actually. You don’t even need the chair.”

He laughed loudly, “Apologies, I know it’s not your fault you’re so-“

“Seriously, don’t finish that sentence, Flip!” She giggled, her hand reaching out and ruffling his hair. Before Flip could react fully to the sensation of it, she was shooing him away and chastising him for distracting her. She grinned as he retreated, his hands in the air in surrender.

However, he had spent the rest of that day replaying the feel of her hand on his head.

Although neither of them had discussed it, it had become a routine for Flip to give (Y/N) rides to and from work regularly. They both enjoyed each other's company, their friendship solidifying, and it wasn’t like he had to go out of his way. To thank him, (Y/N) insisted on bringing him breakfast. Fried egg sandwiches and a hot dark roast coffee were handed to him every morning. Along with her endearing ability to make him smile, Flip was more than satisfied with the arrangement.

If their colleagues at the CSPD noticed the closeness developing between Flip and (Y/N), none remarked on it initially to either of them. Secretly, many of the detectives who knew Flip were beyond grateful for the friendship, as it brought out a side of him that they would all agree, if asked, was more tolerable and likeable to his usual angry demeanour.

It wasn’t until a young rookie officer had spotted them arrive one morning a few weeks after Flip had started driving in with (Y/N), that the rest of the station came to learn the relationship was more important to him than he let on. His rare show of emotions the indication that alerted them.

The rookie had met up with Flip in the bullpen, loudly inquiring as to whether he was banging the hot new secretary, a cocky grin on his face, expecting perhaps a joking reply, or scandalous gossip.

For most of the detectives in the room that knew Flip, a collective intake of their breath and exchange of weary glances took place. They had watched apprehensively as he had turned to Caruthers, a glare that defined to term, ‘if looks could kill’ marring his handsome features. Flip then knocked the coffee out of Caruthers's hands and jabbed him in the chest as he had shouted. The rookie had nearly pissed himself, apologizing profusely before running off. Flip had then glared around the room, daring anyone else to suggest such a thing, but no one was stupid enough, and those who Flip worked closely with were better men than the likes of Caruthers.

As Flip had taken his seat, his blood boiling at the inappropriate question, he considered the reason for his over the top reaction. (Y/N) had brought a lot of happiness into his life, filling a void he hadn’t taken the time to recognize had grown over the last few years. Loneliness, the acceptance of retaining his bachelor status permanently. And the realization, when she would casually touch him, that he was touch starved. He was already comfortable with, and protective of, their friendship. The last thing he wanted at that moment was for her to overhear Caruthers suggestion, should it cause a rift between them.

And, if he was honest with himself, he recognized that his feelings for her were...complicated. If he were to see a reaction in her at the suggestion they were sleeping together, he was not sure what that could do to them. The idea that Flip could lose (Y/N) terrified him.

So he actively worked to push his feelings down, preferring the safety of friendship. The safety of routine and the expected.

Today, Flip and Jimmy returned from a successful arrest on a perp they’d been following for weeks. They had managed to nail him while he was completing a small drug shipment from his mother’s garage. The whole arrest took them only just over an hour, and it was clean-the suspect, upon seeing the two detectives, surrendered.

When they arrived back at the station, Flip lingered outside to finish his smoke, feeling pretty satisfied with how the arrest went down and looking forward to sharing the success with (Y/N). He never told her anything classified, however in her position she was privy to a lot of sensitive information. She knew the details of most of the cases the detectives worked on.

He found it effortless to share the good days straight away, enjoying the way her features lit up at his words. Regardless of what she was working on, she would give him her full attention. The bad days she coaxed out of Flip with care during the drive to her home, always ready to comfort him or offer words of encouragement.

“Did you have a rough day, detective?” She had asked him one afternoon as they walked to his truck. He had been silent when approaching her at the end of the day, giving her a brief nod as she joined his pace and they hurried out of the station.

Flip had glanced down at her, unable to keep the frown off of his face. She merely tilted her head, her eyes soft as she waited patiently for him to speak, to say whatever he needed to. He had taken a deep breath before relenting.

“Just, usual bullshit from the Chief, about a case I worked just before you joined us.” He wasn’t able to elaborate, the entire case classified. Even files had been destroyed to keep it under wraps. Which was part of the reason he was so annoyed-he felt they could have accomplished more if they’d remained undercover longer. The Chief wholly disagreed.

Part of Flip had wondered if she would tease him, or tell him off for whining; a reaction that would have been entirely unsurprising from any of his fellow detectives. “Flip, do me a favour, tough man?” She had asked instead, leaning slightly against the side of his truck and gazing up at him.

“What’s that, darling?”

(Y/N) smiled, “When you walk through those doors at the end of the day,” She gestured at the main entrance, “You leave all the bullshit behind, don’t take it home with you anymore.”

He returned her smile, shrugging, “What if it’s too much to leave behind?” He hadn’t meant for the words to come out so quietly. (Y/N) stepped closer to him, their bodies inches apart, and Flip found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her (y/e/c) eyes.

“Then let me help you carry it, at least.” She had replied, voice equally as soft.

After a pause, she had patted his arm gently before moving to climb into the truck.

“Flip,” He glanced up, pulled from his thoughts, to see Jimmy standing at the main station doors. His expression was unusually annoyed. Flip tossed his smoke, stomping it out.

“What is it?”

Jimmy shook his head, “You ain’t gonna like this.” And he pulled open the door. The sounds of a man shouting were the first thing to reach Flip’s ears, and he followed Jimmy inside, curious.

The shouting man had his finger angrily pointed at (Y/N), who was standing behind the counter. His yells echoed off the walls, a jarring contrast to the warmth and professionalism the station usually exuded. (Y/N) was positioned somewhat defensively in front of Donna-who Flip only noticed as he was approaching-her jaw set and mouth in a thin line. His eyes assessed her quickly, taking in her crossed arms and narrowed eyes, while he moved toward the scene with fast steps.

“I don’t give a god damn that he’s a police detective, I’m telling you no-” As the man uttered a slur, Flip’s frown morphed into a glare. He made his way down the hall unnoticed by everyone, all attention on the man. He hated when men cursed and uttered slurs in front of ladies. He especially hated that it was being directed at (Y/N). “-is going to be arresting my son, no sir, now you get that damn-“

“Sir, I’m not going to tell you again, your son was arrested, lawfully by a respected Detective of this station. Now lower your voice and I would be happy to take you to see your son and meet the detective.” Flip had never seen her angry-or even annoyed-but at that moment her eyes were narrowed, lips twisted in distaste as if the irritation tasted sour on her tongue. He did not like seeing (Y/N) upset, nor treated so poorly.

Her reasonable words served to merely enrage the large man further, his face reddening as he stepped closer to the counter. Flip, still unnoticed, moved to step in and lead the man away, his intention simply to diffuse the situation. However, there was a pressure building in his chest; the next few moments seemed to slow down in his red hazed vision, his willpower strong enough to remain professional, his hand reaching out to touch the man's shoulder-

Only the fucker pointed, his dirty hand inches from (Y/N)’s face, and rudely snarled, “Shut up bitch, and get me a white detective to talk to before I-“

The pressure hit a breaking point.

Flip instead seized that hand and twisted it behind the asshole’s back. A growl ripped from his chest as he used his free hand to grab the back of the man's neck and force him down, bending him over the counter. A wave of gratification swept through Flip when the man grunted in pain and surprise, his face pressed to the countertop.

“You were looking for a white Detective, I hear?” He snarled, his grip too tight for the man to struggle against. Flip was much too angry, a fact that his rational mind was concerning over-he had been fine moments before. Movement out of the corner of his eye had Flip glancing up, his eyes meeting (Y/N)’s over the desk. “You alright, darling?” His voice considerably softer as he surveyed her, concerned.

She nodded, her eyes holding his gaze steadily. “Just fine, Detective.” (Y/N) quickly assured him. Flip thought he saw something pass through her gaze, but before he could read it, it was gone. Something about that look had the thundering rage inside of him fading, which was for the best. He loosened his grip, slightly, resisting the urge to cause further harm.

Adrenaline coursed through Flip’s body, eyes never breaking away from hers. She seemed to draw him in, the look alone calming him further.

“Alright, sir, you’re coming with me, we’re going to have a little chat on how we conduct ourselves around ladies.” Jimmy stepped up, smirking, and cuffed the man. Flip looked away from (Y/N), and watched his partner and a uniformed officer lead the man away.

Flip momentarily considered following, but thought better of it. He drew a steadying breath of air, his anger dissolving as quickly as it had come on.

“Oh Donna, are you okay?”

Flip turned at the sound of (Y/N)‘s voice. Donna was visibly upset, her gentle nature affected. (Y/N), it seemed, was much less shaken. She wrapped her arms around Donna and gave her a comforting hug.

“I’m being silly, really,” Donna gulped, wiping at her eyes, “I’ve seen it all, at my age, you know. I just really worried he was going to hop the counter!”

(Y/N) patted her back, “I did too, but we’re alright, thanks to Detective Zimmerman. Why don’t you head home early?”

Flip agreed, ignoring the swell of pride at her words, “You don’t need to be worrying about us, Donna, you go ahead home and tell Carl I defended your honour on his behalf.” Flip joked, causing his matronly friend to give a shaky laugh and wipe away her tears. (Y/N) gave him a grateful look.

Flip stuck around while Donna gathered her things and bid them farewell, never taking his eyes off of (Y/N). She had walked over to the benches that lined the wall, taking a seat and letting her head fall back against the brick. Waving happily as Donna walked out, her smile dropped when she was out of sight.

She heaved a big sigh, watching as Flip joined her. His arm pressed against hers, neither of them adjusting their positions to move away. He said nothing, knowing she would speak when she was ready. They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring across at the silly pictures the kids had drawn.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, Flip,” (Y/N) finally said, shaking her head sadly. Flip stared down at her a moment, raising his brow.

“There is nothing for you to be apologizing for, darling.”

“I-I know, I suppose I just...” She trailed off, glancing away. When she didn’t look like she would finish her thought, he decided to joke and change the subject, though he filed her reaction away in the part of his mind he reserved for her failings at caring for herself. It ultimately served to provide him with excuses to care for her in his own ways, as a friend would.

A friend, only.

“You want me to go in there and rough him up a bit?” Flip wished he was fully kidding, but part of him would have been happy to go and knock the asshole around if she’d asked him to.

Instead, she laughed at his words, an arguably much better result. He smiled at the melody of her voice “Flip, thanks for shutting him up.” She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes, an almost coy expression appearing.

Giving no real thought behind the action, simply following his instincts, Flip reached out and gently tucked some loose strands of (y/h/c) hair behind her ear. His hand lingered there a moment, before dropping abruptly, “Of course.” His voice came out in a rumble, “No one will ever speak to you like that around me, darling.”

She had watched him with her wide, beautiful eyes as he’d spoken, barely moving when he’d touched her hair. She was regarding him now with affection; he could see it clearly.

“My best friend, the protector.” She teased, breaking the frisson that had built between them, much to his relief.

Flip smirked down at her, though his heart was beating tirelessly in his chest and his mind was reeling. She patted his leg before standing, thanking him again. He watched her walk back to the reception desk, his expression unreadable. While he was fairly sure he could return to his desk, Flip decided to go outside for another smoke. chastising himself for the direction his thoughts had moved; from the intensity of his anger to the guilt of imagining filthy scenarios with his best friend.

When she had teased him, it was the first time the term had been used. And he found himself torn, feeling both touched at the sentiment, yet disappointed at its platonic connotation.

Flip returned home that evening in an overwhelmed state of mind, after a quiet car ride with (Y/N). She had thanked him again before hurrying inside her home. He wanted to stop her, to ask about the look on her face earlier.

He wanted to ask her why the first word that came to mind to describe it was hungry.

Bristling, he sought release immediately, not bothering to undress beyond kicking off his boats and lowering his jeans to his thighs. He stood in his bedroom panting, one hand on his dresser to keep him steady, as he fisted his already hard length. He was desperate, sensitive from weeks of pent up sexual frustration he had pointedly ignored.

A guttural moan ripped from his chest as Flip finally allowed the thoughts of (Y/N) to the forefront of his mind; thoughts of her glowing skin, soft to his touch, her body quivering as he explored head to toe, kissing every inch. His hand moved quickly, the tension building within him swiftly. It only took a few more pumps as he imagined his name on her lips in ecstasy, pleading for him not to stop...

With a cry, he came-the wave of pleasure pulsing through his body as his cum spurted, coating his hand and dripping to the floor. "Fuck!" His head tilted back.

His legs trembled, perspiration coating his skin; he crashed from his high and quickly sat on the edge of his bed, gasping for air. After only a few moments of relief, the guilt seeped back into the front of Flip’s mind.

He sighed, “Flip, you’re a piece of garbage.” He muttered to himself, eyes closing in disgust. He fell back, now laying on his bed, chewing his lip as he considered everything that had happened. His mind was now much clearer.

And there was simply no denying, the expression on (Y/N)'s face had not been of fear or concern. It had been of arousal. Flip wasn't sure of how he would react if he ever saw that look cross her face again, and so he fretted at the best way to move forward.

Would telling her how he felt, and risking their friendship, be the right move? Or was Flip too selfish, too cowardly, to admit his feelings?

Flip didn't sleep a wink.

Did you enjoy this chapter? Please consider reblogging or commenting—likes are basically just a bookmark!

Tag list ✨ @tashastrange89 @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @iamnotthecatladynextdoor

#flip zimmerman x reader #adam driver x reader #reader insert #adam Driver x you #flip x you #fanfic #angst #fluff #Zimmerman x reader #multichapter #feedback appreciated

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moononastring · 3 years

Note

Uhm, I hope it’s not much of a bother, but could you please answer all the other tag list questions that haven’t been answered for Elucien? Thank you 🥺

Ummmmm it's never a bother to talk about my babies! If it's not on here, that means it's been answered in a different ask :)

2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, at any place and at any time?

Lucien for sure, but also...Elain is a little minx. I can absolutely see them both being ready to go at any time. However, Lucien is the harlot so ya know...he has that on lockdown lol.

3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?

Elain lovessssss when they take showers and baths together. It's a nice way for them to spend time together and a great way for her to pamper herself as well as Lucien (which she loves to do). Elain may start it off as a way to relax but Lucien usually just gives her that one little smirk and it quickly shifts from relaxing to very sexy.

5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

Lucien. He is a gentleman and whether the fight was his fault or not, he will not let his lady sleep anywhere but her bed.

7) Who said “I love you” first? and who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

I think Elain would. Lucien shows it with his behavior but I think he's really scared to be the first one to say it because of the way things were between them and because he would want her to come to that realization on her own. This is why I think Elain would be the one to say it first because she's sure.

As for ending their arguments with "Because I love you", I can see them both but maybe more so Lucien. It's just a fact that whatever they're fighting about, he loves her anyway and that won't change.

8) Who likes to wear the others sweatshirts?

Elainnnnn and Lucien l o v e s her in them. Preferably with no pants.

10) Who is more likely to cheat?

Neither bruh. They're too loyal for that nonsense.

11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship?

Lucien makes fun of Elain and she just rolls her eyes because they have been together too long for any other response.

12) Who starts a food fight in the kitchen?

Lucien, because he's a little shit and Elain will want to kill him.

15) Who likes writes the others name on their wrist?

Elain writes her name on Lucien's wrist. At first, the others make fun of him so much thinking he did it to himself but when they see that she's the one who always does it (drawing little hearts and flowers), they shut up about it. Elain is small but she will fight.

17) Who is more protective?

Both of them but Lucien likely a little more. Bad things have happened to his loved ones and he will not let anything touch Elain. On the flip side...I do feel sorry for anyone that would say anything negative about Lucien in her presence because she will tear them a new one.

18) Who talks to the other while they are sleeping?

Elain will sometimes wake up in the middle of the night (restlessness/visions) and just have full-on conversations with Lucien. He mumbles back nonsense things.

19) Who drives and who has the window seat?

Lucien is the driver and Elain has the window seat. She takes a lot of photos of him because he's her hot uber driver.

20) Who falls asleep in the others lap and who carries them to bed?

Elain is always curling up in Lucien's lap like a cat. He always carries her to bed.

21) Who cuts the other's hair?

I can see Elain trimming Lucien's hair but never a full cut. His hair is gorgeous and she doesn't want to ruin it.

22) Who is super bad at sexting? and who sends them encouraging messages throughout the day?

Elain is so bad at sexting it has Lucien doubling over in laughter constantly. His texts just keep getting dirtier and her responses turn into emoji responses (and not the sexy kind). Elain is the queen of good vibe texts. She's always sending Lucien encouraging messages throughout the day and he loves them.

24) Who starts random slow dancing with the other in the kitchen? Who holds the other just above the ground and kisses them?

Lucien initiates the random slow dancing with Elain in the kitchen while they're cooking. Most of the time (if not always) they have soft oldies music playing in the background anyway so they just have to slow dance! Lucien is always picking Elain up to kiss her and she loves it.

25) Who says shitty puns and sex jokes just to see the other giggle and blush?

Lucien says the worst puns and sex jokes. It never fails to make her laugh and blush so hard.

26) Who kissed first?

Elain. Lucien is being a gentleman and keeps at her pace and homegirl just wants him to plant a smooch on her. She takes matters into her own hands.

28) Who writes poems/stories and love songs about the other? Do they sing the songs the write for them?

Lucien has a very nice way with words so he's the writer of poems/stories/love songs. Neither of them really sing but he does read them aloud to Elain quite often.

thank you for sending an ask bby! <3

#elucien #elucien headcanons #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #i love my babies #asks #otp questions

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maddiewritesstucky · 3 years

Text

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Stripper Bucky / Architect Steve

Words: 3790

Tags: Sexy shower antics, post-exercise endorphin highs, Steve is a badass for like 10 minutes, Bucky is not a morning person (until he suddenly is), enthusiastic morning sex

A follow-up one-shot to the slow death of Steve Rogers. Many thanks to my radiant cassowary @kalee60 for giving it your clever eyes. Infinite birdseed for you 😘

(Also on Ao3)

When Bucky wakes up, he is aware of two things, and two things only.

One - it’s way too fucking early for his eyelids to have peeled themselves back the way they have, if the rosy tint of the sky outside is anything to go by, and two - his foot should have connected with some part of Steve’s anatomy by now on it’s customary post-waking stretch across the mattress.

His body is coming online one limb at a time, and he grunts his displeasure into the rumpled sheets; gaze firmly averted from the clock on the bedside table. Putting a number to it will only make him angry, and the stupid beautiful soft dawn light filling the bedroom tells him everything he needs to know anyway.

Why they had decided to move into Steve’s apartment when Bucky’s actually had things like properly functioning curtains, he has no idea.

"Steve,” he groans, voice thick with the remnants of sleep and the injustice of waking before he intended to.

He kicks his foot out a little further; throws an arm out to join the search party too, but finds Steve’s side of the bed decidedly more vacant than it had been when he fell asleep last night.

Running, some vaguely helpful part of Bucky’s subconscious supplies, you fell for a man who goes running at bastard o’clock in the morning.

He flops over onto his back and scrubs his hands up over his face; up through the tangled mess of hair that seems to find new ways of defying its scrunchie-prison every night. His vision sharpens into focus and sticks a moment on the giant canvas print photo of himself and Steve smiling back at him from the far wall; a grinning relic of a Bucky who was not woken before his time.

It still makes his stomach flip a little, that picture - the two of them stuffed into the heavy-knit sweaters Bucky’s ma had made them last Christmas; both in the throes of losing their shit over the comically absurd miscalculation she’d made on size. Steve’s got tears in his eyes, and Bucky’s aren’t even open, and they’re clinging to each other with that special kind of desperation that intense, prolonged laughter seems to spawn.

It’s everything good about their life together, that photo; the sheer warmth and joy they’ve found in one another over the past year, the sense of home and family and right.

It’s even more heartwarming, Bucky finds, when the sun is a reasonable distance above the horizon.

He drags his protesting body out of its sleep-warmed cocoon, his intentions set on the brand new bag of espresso grind that Last-Night Bucky had so wisely left sitting on the kitchen counter.

He’s going to use Steve’s favorite mug, the one he’d happened across in a yard sale that reads ‘architects do it on drafting tables’ with a lewd stick figure drawing. Partially because it holds the most coffee, and partially because if Steve had remained in bed this morning, with all his familiar warmth and dependable big-spoon behavior, Bucky would have remained blissfully unconscious until his alarm went off.

...Steve’s not here to actually see this particular middle-finger of a gesture, but that’s beside the point. Bucky will know.

It’s not until he’s shuffling his way down the hall, already two steps past the closed bathroom door, that Bucky registers the faint sounds of water hitting tile, and the sporadic, off-key hum of a post-run Steve.

His feet halt in their tracks before he’s even made the conscious decision that coffee can wait.

He wants to keep walking, to get his precious cup of bean nectar and crawl back into bed for another hour or three, it’s just...

Post-run Steve is kind of Bucky’s jam.

He’s sweaty, and loose-limbed, and hopped up on exercise endorphins which, more often than not, make him inexplicably horny and give him the closest approximation of a bad boy complex that someone with Steve’s demeanor could possibly get.

Post-run Steve is the only good thing about being awake at this god forsaken hour.

The sunrise, and the stillness, and the smell of fresh dew can get fucked, but Bucky will carpe the hell out of a diem for some Post-run Steve.

He slips quietly into the bathroom, and is immediately grateful for the time he spent descaling the shower door yesterday when he’s met with an unimpeded view of Steve’s glorious back. What goddamn right an architect has looking like that, Bucky has no idea, but you wanna talk about some aesthetically pleasing angles?

Steve’s got one hand braced against the wall, head dipped to draw out the line of his back. His skin’s a little flushed; water channeling in fast-flowing rivulets between the soft ridges and swells of his drawn-taut muscles, and he’s breathing those quiet grunts of the recently-exerted.

He’s a living, breathing thirst-trap, and the knowledge that he’d only blush and change the subject if Bucky told him so just makes it a thousand times better.

Bucky pushes his soft flannel sleep pants off his hips and lets them fall to the floor, sending up another silent salute to Last-Night Bucky for going commando, and steps forward to pull open the shower door.

...Later on, when Bucky is reflecting on it all, he’ll blame the early hour and his pre-caffeinated state for the fact that he didn’t realise. The soft noises falling from Steve’s lips, the very particular bunch and flex of very particular muscles…

Any other time of day, Bucky would have known straight away.

Any other time of day, and Bucky wouldn’t have even needed to be in the same room - he could be at the bodega down the street, and his nipples would inexplicably harden at the pluck of Steve’s distant arousal on the cosmic spiderweb.

But as it happens in the moment, it’s not until Steve’s head is falling back on a low moan that Bucky realizes exactly what it is he’s walked in on.

“Oh, shit...”

It’s off his tongue before he can reel it back in, and Steve almost jumps out of his skin.

His head whips around, and for the briefest flicker of a moment, he looks shocked and uncertain and embarrassed as all hell.

But this right here is no weekday-afternoon Steve. This is not the blushing, bumbling hunk of love meee that occupies the corporeal form of Steve Rogers 95% of the time.

No, this is Post-run Steve, and it’s all of about two seconds before he’s schooling his features into something more akin to vaguely-smirking indifference; turning until he’s facing Bucky front on, and settling his weight back against the shower wall.

“Babe, I’m sorry, I didn’t--” Bucky begins, as close to apologetic as one can really be about seeing their significant other in a compromising yet Very Sexy position. But the words dry up on his lips as Steve lifts a finger to his own in the universal gesture of ‘shush.’

He watches, rapt, as Steve first reaches over to the tap and shuts off the water, and then takes up the bottle of Bucky’s conditioner, squirting some into his hand before wrapping it back around his cock.

And then that jacked-up idiot, that neuro-chemical flooded pseudo bad bitch, looks Bucky dead in the eye...and goes right back to jerking off.

He’s putting on a goddamn show with it too - pulling at his cock, long and slow and tight; dropping his head back against the wall and letting his moans ricochet shamelessly off the tile. The sound of his fist working over his dick is lewd as hell, so much more audible for the fact that there’s no rush of running water to mask it anymore, and Bucky wonders briefly if he ever actually woke up at all, if this isn’t just all a very believable wet dream.

It certainly contains all the usual elements - intense eye contact; a big fat dick getting rubbed off by a beefy, naked, wet dude (bonus that it’s Bucky’s actual, real-life boyfriend); the kinds of sounds you usually only hear in porn…

For all Bucky knows, he could still be tucked up in bed asleep, and not standing here naked and painfully erect in this steamed up bathroom, watching his boyfriend jack it like he’s starring in some locker-room porno.

“You need somethin’, or you just come in here to watch?” Steve drawls, arching a brow at him, and yeah - there’s a lot of things Bucky needs all of a sudden.

He rakes an assessing gaze over Steve’s body, stepping into the shower and pressing his palms to the swell of Steve’s pecs.

“I just wanted to make sure your run went okay,” he shrugs, “no pulled tendons, shin splints...aching muscles…that kinda thing.”

He squeezes at Steve’s shoulders and his biceps and his tiny waist; threads his hands up through Steve’s hair and slots a thigh between Steve’s to push their hips together.

Steve’s skin is so warm, and slippery, and he smells like soap, and Bucky starts mentally calculating just how much time they have and how much energy he can feasibly expend before their respective work days start.

He’s not on stage tonight, but he is on shift for his day job at the community center, teaching a preschool ballet class at 10am, and then a seniors ballroom dancing session at midday before his contemporary classes in the afternoon. Steve’s working from home today, so hypothetically it wouldn’t matter if Bucky wore him out a little…

“Buck...”

“Mm?”

He rubs his whole self shamelessly against Steve, pressing in so the barbells spiked through his nipples drag across the wet expanse of Steve’s chest. He kisses Steve’s neck and his tits and his mouth, hungry and handsy and a little frantic, and Steve laughs softly against his lips as he turns them to push Bucky up against the slick tile of the shower wall.

“Your concern is deeply moving,” he deadpans, caging Bucky in with hands planted either side of his head, “but I think we need to talk about your bathroom etiquette...didn’t anybody ever teach you to knock?”

He’s staring Bucky down with eyes lit up something wicked; his body so very nearly touching Bucky’s but not quite, and it hits Bucky all over again that his boyfriend is, physically speaking...really fucking imposing.

It’s easy to forget, when he’s being...well, Steve. Perpetually polite, kind-hearted, goofy...Bucky feels like when he looks at Steve, he sees the softness of his nature, the quiet goodness that radiates out of him.

He sees the sensible shoes and the khaki pants, the careful artist hands and the way Steve still sometimes carries himself like the much-smaller man he claims to have once been.

He’s Stevie, and Bucky wouldn’t have him any other way.

But all of that also happens to be contained within a 6’2”, 200lb frame, and right now...Bucky kind of wants to suffocate under it.

“I am so sorry, Steven,” he says, though it’s entirely negated by the raging hard on he’s sporting and the giddy, gratuitous manner in which he’s still feeling Steve up.

He skates his fingertips down the rippled plain of Steve’s stomach, down to the trail of dusky blond hair leading south from his belly button, but Steve catches his hands and pins them up above his head.

“I’m sure you are,” Steve hums, “but I don’t think you appreciate the gravity of the situation here. See, you caught me in a very private moment, one that I was very much enjoying, and now I’m all thrown off. You got me feelin’ shy.”

...There’s some very compelling evidence to the contrary rubbing up against Bucky’s hip right now, but that’s beside the point. Steve’s teeth are scraping a line all the way down Bucky’s neck to nip at the ice fractals tattooed across his shoulder, and Bucky’s more than willing to play along.

“However can I make it up to you?”

He arches into the press of Steve’s body, the hard line of Steve’s cock nestled into the crease of his hip.

If Steve shifted just slightly, he’d be rubbing up against Bucky’s dick.

It’s not an accident that Steve isn’t making that shift.

“You really want to?” Steve kisses the question against his skin, making his way slowly back up to Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky nods vehemently.

He’s already wetting his lips in preparation for all the ‘making up’ they’re about to do; signalling his knees to get ready to bend and pulling at Steve’s grip on his wrists, but Steve doesn’t release him.

Instead, he pulls back just far enough to look Bucky square in the eye, and smiles entirely too sweet for the authoritative edge that rumbles into his voice. “Go back to bed, Bucky.”

Bucky has to blink a few times as the words circulate in his ears. His expression turns from I’m about to get some D! to oh god I’m being denied the D in about 0.2 seconds flat.

Bed is very far away from the dick that is currently in need of reparations, he can’t achieve anything from bed.

“But—you said—I was gonna—”

“Go. back. to bed.” Steve tightens his grip on Bucky’s wrists and leans his whole weight against him, right up in his space so his lips catch against Bucky’s as he speaks, “...and wait for me.”

Oh.

A big, stupid, ‘bout-to-get-railed grin stretches across Bucky’s face. He wriggles free of Steve’s grasp and stumbles out of the shower, stopping himself just shy of a wildly enthusiastic ‘yes sir!’

He thinks he can hear Steve’s laughter as he takes off back down the hall toward the bedroom, but it might just be his own echoing back to him. He throws himself down onto the unmade bed, still warm from when he got up not ten minutes ago, and honestly who needs to sleep in anyway? Sleeping in is for people who don’t have absolute poundcake boyfriends to screw them into the sunrise.

He should have toweled off, he realizes as his damp skin rubs against the bedding, but he cannot be blamed for life choices made before six am, and there are far more important things afoot anyway.

Things like the sound of the shower turning back on for approximately forty-five seconds, then the muted pass of a towel being scrubbed over hair, and footsteps on the hardwood growing ever closer to the bedroom.

God, this is gonna be a good day. What a beautiful day to be greeting the dawn, making the most of his youth, seizing everything life throws at him!

He has the good sense to snatch the lube out of the bedside drawer just as Steve walks into the room, eyeing him with amusement and hunger in equal measures.

“You know what the problem is, with what just happened back there, Buck?”

Steve saunters toward the bed with all the nonchalance of a man whose work day doesn’t start for another three hours.

He wraps his sizable hands around Bucky’s ankles and yanks him down the bed a little - for no other purpose than to hear Bucky’s breath hitch at the unnecessary show of strength - and climbs up onto the mattress to straddle Bucky’s shins.

“The problem is, I don’t like to make a spectacle of myself.” He plucks the lube from Bucky’s hand and pours some into his own, spreading it over his cock in lazy pulls. “Being the center of attention, having eyes on me...that’s more your speed.”

“Mhmm, yes, I am an attention whore,” Bucky nods, reaching grabby hands out at Steve who refuses to shift any further up his body, “and you are humble and handsome and have a big dick. Make out with me.”

Steve tuts and shakes his head, reaching his unoccupied hand to flick at one of Bucky’s nipple piercings.

“Oh, I don’t think you get to make requests right now. See, the worst part of you throwin’ me off back there? I was so fucking close. So now what you get to do, James, is flip the fuck over, and let me finish what I started.”

...Jesus, Bucky loves Post-run Steve.

He’s gonna marry Post-run Steve and have his hopped up little post-run babies, and make sure Steve never misses a single day of early morning exercise so he can bask in the glory of this magnificent bastard every goddamn day of his life.

Bucky flops over onto his front and gets his knees under himself, sticking his ass up in the air with a wiggle that’s probably a lot more comical than it is enticing. But the heat of Steve’s palms hook around the front of his thighs and pull them out from under him, sprawling him flat against the mattress.

There’s a sudden clamping of teeth on his ass cheek and the sharp swat of an open palm, and then Bucky’s being pressed firmly into the sheets by Steve’s weight settling high up on the backs of his thighs.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Steve sighs, planting his hands on the dip in Bucky’s spine, “I’m gonna use your ass to get off, and then I’m going to get back into bed, while you go make us some coffee.”

Bucky nods into the mess of blankets under his cheek, futilely trying to rock his hips up against Steve’s considerable weight. “Yes, agreed, punishment fits the cri-hi wow okay.”

A wholly undignified sound is wrenched from Bucky’s chest as Steve skips all pretense of tease, and thrusts his slicked up cock into the crease of Bucky’s ass, rubbing off between his cheeks with a very singular purpose.

Bucky scrabbles to grab hold of his pillow and drags it down, wedging it under his hips with as much success as can be expected when you’re being pinned by a 200lb adrenaline-testosterone cocktail. It’s enough though, to very favorably cushion the rub of his dick, and all things considered…this whole thing is working out pretty well for him.

He’s expending precisely zero effort, but the wet glide of Steve’s cock over his hole and the push of Steve’s hips rubbing him into the pillow is very much Doing It for him, and he lets his body go loose and pliant as Steve does all the work for the both of them.

And Steve is putting in work - rocking Bucky into the mattress with a fervor that knocks the breath out of him and sends the headboard careening rhythmically into the wall.

“Y’hear that, Buck?” Steve pants, not for a second breaking his frankly devastating pace. “That’s what a fuckin’ knock sounds like.”

“Oh my god.”

This is exactly how every single day of Bucky’s life should begin. Naked, giddy, cocks enthusiastically rubbing up against holes, and Steve running his mouth like he won’t be turning ten shades of red about it later.

If this is the payoff, Bucky will bust in on every single shower Steve has for the rest of his life.

“I love you,” he laughs a little breathlessly into the bedding, biting off a moan at the heat coiling low in his belly.

It’s entirely sincere, and he says it because he means it...but if he also happens to know by now that those words are a direct hit to Steve’s prostate during sex?

That’s just a happy coincidence.

Steve makes a sound like he’s been punched, his thighs twitching and tensing where they’re clamped around Bucky’s hips.

His breaths are coming sharp and shallow, his movements taking on a frantic edge that betrays exactly how close he is, and Bucky would ask him to slow down, except he really, really doesn’t want him to.

“I love you, Stevie,” he says again, letting his own building climax bleed into his voice, “love you so much...come on, baby...”

“Fuck, Bucky, I...oh...”

His weight falls forward over Bucky as he comes, and it’s all the shove Bucky needs to tip over the edge with him.

He spills all over his pillow, burying a moan into the sheets and huffing under the weight of Steve’s body going lax on top of him.

“Oh my god, Buck,” Steve groans, vaguely awed like it wasn’t his own efforts that just brought them both to sticky ruin, and Bucky reaches a hand back to swat weakly at him.

“You said it, pal.”

Steve nuzzles into the crook of his neck, planting breathless kisses against his skin and running his hands over every part of Bucky he can reach.

It’s so tangible, that shift back to normalcy, back to Steve. It always hits Bucky square in the chest, the way he can feel Steve’s edges softening, feel that boisterous energy turn sweet and mellow in the aftermath.

It’s kind of precious, actually, though Bucky would never phrase it like that to Steve’s face.

He squirms beneath Steve’s weight, getting himself turned over until he’s on his back beneath him. “Good morning,” he smiles up at Steve softly, running his fingers through the still-damp tufts of his hair.

Steve sighs happily, letting his eyes drift shut and tilting his head into Bucky’s hand. “Good morning, pervert.”

“Hey, come on, you know I didn't do that on purpose! ” Bucky laughs, cupping Steve’s face and kissing him all over his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes, though the smile on his face says Bucky’s doesn’t really have anything to be sorry about. “Guess I can forgive you this one time.”

“You’re a gracious man.”

Bucky drags him down and kisses him right on his smile, sweet and lazy. When they pull apart, Steve’s got that dopey look on his face like he’s feeling a whole lot of something, and Bucky knows exactly what’s coming before Steve says it.

“Glad you love me, Bucky Barnes.”

...He knew it was coming, but it still gets him every time.

“Glad to love you, Steve Rogers.” He feels like he’s glowing a little as he leans up to peck Steve on the tip of his nose. “Now if I’m not mistaken, I owe you a cup of coffee...you’re gonna have to let me up if you want me to follow through on that.”

“Mm, counter offer - we both go wash off, together, and then I’ll make us breakfast while you handle the coffee?”

Bucky pretends to consider for a second before he nods, stretching his body out as Steve rolls his weight off him.

“Agreed.” He waves a hand in the general direction of the door, shooting Steve a wink and a lopsided grin. “Lead the way, pal. I believe you are intimately familiar with where the shower is.”

#stucky fanfic #stucky au #steve/bucky #stripper!bucky #architect!steve #pwp #sexy shower antics #Post-run Steve can get it

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slut-for-mothman · 3 years

Text

Hell is For Children

Requested: Yes|No

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid

A/N: Special thanks to @oliverbrnch for editing this chapter and making it into what is is !!! I hope you all enjoy my first CM fanfiction !!!

Summary: After 13 years of trying to forget the man he was supposed to call his father, Spencer finds his phone riddled with messages from his father trying to catch up on "old times". He's met with criticism and shame when he reveals he has no want to talk to him. Everyone seems to think his father deserves a second chance. Everyone except for him. Aaron Hotchner. Logically it made no sense, Aaron had a kid of his own, would he not sympathize with his father for wanting to have a relationship with his son? Spencer finds comfort in the older man. Everytime his phone buzzes with a notification from William Reid, Aaron is always there to comfort him and distract him from the burning hole in his back pocket.

Chapter warnings: Angst, allusions to physical abuse. descriptions of violence and gore, swearing, and I think that's it.

Chapter One

December 16th, 5:15pm

"Hey son, I haven't seen or heard from you in a while. I hope you're doing okay."

Seeing that message was enough to twist the young doctors stomach in such intricate and painful knots he thought he might become violently ill.

"A while?" Spencer muttered to himself as he reread the message over and over. "it's been thirteen years, that's more than a while-"

A second message interrupted his train of thought.

December 16th, 5:27pm

"Why don't you come over sometime? My wife would love to see you, just something to think about..."

This message made something inside him break, the world shattering as his knees failed him. He swore he felt time stop as he reread those nauseating characters.

Wife? Since when was he remarried?

'Does she even know what he did to my mom, to me?' Spencer wondered, unable to tear his eyes away from his phone.

Does she even know she left a ten-year-old alone with his mentally-ill mother? Did she know what a selfish bastard he was?

Did they have kids?

Were they really that easily replaced?

Spencers mind was spinning, his apartment floor unsteady underfoot as his vision blurred. Tears stung his eyes, threatening to slip down his cheeks if he dared to blink.

His misery was interrupted as his phone buzzed once more in his palm.

Thankfully, it wasn't from the dreaded unsaved number, just Hotch.

December 16th, 7:14pm

"We have a case."

Spencer gathered his things, wiping the tears from his eyes on the cuff of his sleeve. He'd never been more grateful to hear those four words in his entire life.

His ride on the metro felt infinitely slower than normal, much to the young doctors dismay. The extra free time gave his mind permission to run away from his as much as it pleased.

His phone vibrated again and again with more messages from the unsaved number, each one more hostile and manipulative than the next when Spencer glanced at the device.

December 16th, 7:23pm

"Will you at least give me an answer? I know I screwed up, but that was a long time ago! I have a right to get to know my son."

December 16th, 7:25pm

"Imagine how I feel, not knowing my son has 3 PhD's and having to find out from my ex-wifes nurse. You're not the only one suffering here kid, remember that."

Spencer snapped his battered phone shut in frustration.

How did he even manage to make himself out to be the victim in this?

He's the one who left me.

'I don't owe him shit, not after what he did to me', Spencer thought furiously to himself, his knuckles white where they gripped his messenger bag.

'Maybe I should give him some kind of answer, let him know where he can stick-'

By the time the sentence popped into his head, his chest aching, he had reached his stop. Although cases weren't particularly a positive thing, anything was better than thinking about the man who had abandoned him and, subsequently, essentially ruined his entire life.

As soon as he stepped off the elevator and into the bullpen, he could feel his co-workers' eyes pierce right through him. It was almost like they could sense something was off with him the moment he entered Quantico.

Of course, while they were profilers, it's not like they were mind-readers.

He fled to the break room and poured himself a generous cup of coffee. He wanted to focus on what was important, which was certainly not the unread messages from a fetid man on his cellphone.

While pouring practically the entire container of sugar into his travel mug, he felt someone's hand touch his shoulder. He flinched slightly at the unexpected touch, and he turned to see Morgan, his eyebrows scrunched together in a confused and worried look.

"Slow down, kid. Have some coffee with your sugar." He said, his voice half-joking as he, presumably, tried to ease the tension practically emitting off of Spencer.

His phone vibrated once more from somewhere in his pockets, and Spencer's face twisted in fervent discomfort.

"Earth to Pretty Boy. You good?"

Spencer realized he was getting absorbed into his thoughts again and tried to brush it off with a quick sip of the sickly-sweet caffeinated concoction in his hand and a quick nod.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking." as if Spencer ever stopped thinking in the first place.

"Well, I'm here if you need anything, kid. But for right now, let's go find out about this case." Derek clapped Spencer on the shoulder again, which earned an instinctual flinch.

Instead of dwelling on that, Derek and Spencer strode towards the conference room, where everyone else had already begun piling in ad Garcia and Prentiss introduced them to their present case.

"Three men were found dead on the streets of a Nevada strip mall last night," Garcia began, pulling up the crime scene photos onto the screen.

Spencer flipped through the folder that was handed to him, scanning over the photos while distantly listening to the rather gruesome but ultimately unhelpful details Prentiss and Garcia were describing.

All three men had one of their fingers removed, yet their wedding bands were later found in their stab wounds upon closer investigation. They were all three found in close proximity to different hotels and known "lover's lanes".

The incessant vibrations and noise emitting from the dreaded device in his pocket was enough to make Spencer have a brain aneurysm.

He retrieved the phone from his pocket only to switch it off and shove it into the deep depths of his messenger bag. It wasn't necessary for a plane ride anyway.

His sudden movements earned him a few more concerned glances, but their attention was quickly diverted as Prentiss announced, "Wheels up in 30." effectively dismissing the team to get their things.

Spencer was restless the entire plane ride. It was only thirty minutes into the trip, with an hour and ten minutes left.

Normally, he'd be playing chess or even reading, but neither of those things seemed to tempt him, as all he could think of were the numerous messages probably flooding his discarded phone banished to the bottom of his messenger bag.

The last message he'd read replayed repeatedly in his mind like some awful alarm.

'Imagine how I feel...'

It made fiery anger swirl in his chest.

He could imagine how he felt. Because the pain William Reid inflicted before he finally left was enough to make Spencer understand what it was like to be sent to Hell and back, if such a place existed.

The memory of watching his own father leave his house at age 10 was enough to make him feel nauseous. His father leaving was the final stake through the young man's heart.

The physical pain, he could probably forgive him for. He would never forget, but maybe he could understand.

But leaving your young on to care for his mentally-ill mother? After all the pain he put him through, that kick while Spencer was already down was a new low.

For all Spencer cared, the man could rot. It was almost funny, thirteen years of healing down the drain with just a few text messages.

Once again, Spencer was ripped from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, It was Hotch, with a guarded but concerned look on his face.

"You've been way too quiet; is everything alright?"

'No', Spencer thought to himself. But he couldn't admit he wasn't okay, especially not before a case. More important things needed to be tended for than his own "daddy issues".

"I'll be okay," Spencer settled for. "Just some weird stuff has been happening lately. It's nothing I can't take care of, though."

It didn't dissuade Hotch's concerned look. If anything, it intensified the worry Spencer found there.

"Is it your mother? Is she alright?" He asked, leaning forward with furrowed eyebrows.

"She's okay! I actually just called her the other night," Spencer assured him. He bit his lip and gripped his messenger bag. "It's actually, uh, my dad. He's been messaging me, and I haven't spoken to him in thirteen years."

"Are you okay? Have you messaged him back any?" Hotch asked, releasing the worried lines on his forehead.

"I haven't, yet. I figured I'd wait until the case was over. That way, there's nothing in the way." Spencer explained, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as his eyes darted around the jet cabin.

Hotch must have picked up the signal to wrap up the conversation, because he gently reminded the young man that he could talk to him whenever he needs to, or just whenever he wants to.

Spencer smiled and inclined his head slightly. "Thanks, Hotch."

"It's not a problem, Reid. Now, let's get back to work."

Spencer flicked through the gruesome photos once more, the swirling anger in his chest dwindling for the first time since his phone at first pinged with that dreaded message.

For once, Spencer was able to completely forget about the slightly outdated phone burning a hole in the bottom of his messenger bag.

#spencer reid #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #hotchreid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid

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yelenasdog · 4 years

Text

it was a pleasure to burn (spencer reid x fem bau!reader)

genre: fluff i think even though the name is v angsty LOL it’s a literal screenplay with the amout of dialogue i wrote LMAO so idk

summary: a particularly rough and disturbing case gets to reader, and spencer and reader are brought together by this.

words: just about 6k (my longest fic ahhHH)

warnings: typical criminal minds gore and violence just up a notch, they get on a plane at the end, somebody gets ~shot~, somebody gets ~bonked~, cursing, mentions of reid’s addiction, and i think that’s it. also the reader wears reading glasses but that’s the only predetermined factor of appearance. btw i don’t think i used any pronouns in this but i apologize if i’m wrong.

a/n: LMFAO i was outside awhile ago celebrating litha with a nice lil hike and i saw a butterfly and i had just started watching cm and was like hMMm... killer who’s obsessed with symmetry??!1??!? y Es. enjoy 😼 EDIT: THERE IS SO MANY PLOT HOLES OMG FBREHJBFHEJFRE IM RBFBRE

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

Present Day, Central Park, New York

“Aren’t they just stunning?” The unsub spoke, keeping her eyes trained on the butterfly sitting happily on her finger. The brightly colored creature fluttered off her hand that was dripping scarlet, flying around her curly head of brown hair. Her, formerly white, blood-stained dress flowed around her as she followed it, watching in awe as it soared about. She giggled, plopping down on the grass in the middle of a circle of her victim’s pale, lifeless bodies, all of them with ironically morbid butterflies resting upon the frail skin of the corpses.

“Aren’t they, agents?”

She slanted her green eyes, gripping the grass a little harder. I flicked my tongue over my lips nervously, looking over to the lanky man on my left. He simply shrugged, just about as sure of how to handle the situation just as much as I was.

“If I knew you all were coming, I would have cleaned up, I really would have, I promise.”

We slowly walked towards her, twigs and leaves crunching under our feet. It could have been comparable to a hunter stalking its prey, but it unfortunately was quite the opposite.

6 days earlier, Quantico, Virginia

“3 bodies, all found within the last 48 hours in rural New York. So far, the first body has revealed that although it was dumped upstate, the victim was murdered in the city, and the same most likely goes for the other bodies as well. Nails well manicured, no drugs in the system. They aren't junkies, we’re dealing with upper class citizens.”

My face contorted as I took the photos from Reid’s hands, his large and tanned one surprising me by how soft it felt as it accidentally brushed against mine. I blushed like a madman, looking to see him doing the same thing. I cleared my throat getting Rossi’s attention.

“Why are we only now hearing of this?” I questioned, flipping through the images as I did so, my confusion only growing. I didn’t recieve an answer, leaving my curiosity to bloom.

“Wait, how did you say they were killed again?”

Morgan looked up, taking the photos from me. “He didn’t.”

I sighed, pushing my glasses up on my nose.

“Is there at least any correlation between the bodies and the butterflies?”

Our attention was shifted to JJ, the resident expert on the insects.

“Actually, the ones being found with the bodies are from the Amarynthis family, all native to Latin America. They weren’t there by accident so yes, they’re somehow related.”

Rossi stood up, grabbing his coat.

“Well, none of this is nearly enough for a profile, so pack your bags and tell the others, wheels up in an hour. We’re headed to New York.”

4 days earlier, F.B.I. Field Office, New York, New York

“The final report from the latest victim is in, all the autopsies are clean. They show no signs of struggles, no marks, no blood, no anything. The eyes weren’t bloodshot, so suffocation is ruled out, and that was our best bet.”

I sighed, sliding the case file across the glass table to Spence as I took my seat, sinking into it and allowing myself to be consumed by its warmth.

“So what your saying is that we’re back at square one.”

I looked up at Hotch from where I sat, running my hand through my ponytail.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”

Just then, the young Doctor spoke up as he flipped through the pages.

“The eyes weren’t just not bloodshot, there was barely any blood left in any of the victims bodies, only about 3% of the volume left. The killer drained them.”

Morgan gave me a shocked expression, silently asking for an explanation.

“Which you failed to mention, Y/n.” Aaron spoke, agitation once again present in his voice.

I looked at the ceiling, crossing my arms in front of me before turning to face Hotch once more.

“Yeah, well, I thought it was obvious when I said no blood.” I stuttered out cautiously.

“On the bodies! Not in the bodies!” Morgan exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in what was in my opinion, very childish. Everyone else in the room aside from Spencer was either shaking their heads or pinching the bridge of their noses, and reasonably so.

“Look, I’m sorry I just didn’t see it in the report, plus, In the scheme of things, it just doesn’t seem to matter.”

I soon regretted my words, realizing how ill-fit they were for the current conversation I was having. Spencer looked up, tilting his head.

“Doesn’t seem to matter? How? There’s an endless amount of possibilities now that we know this. If we had known it sooner we probably could have figured out the pattern and caught the one doing this!” He harshly spewed, his voice acting like a crescendo of sorts, quiet and calm and moving towards a loud and violent tone. Tears began to prick at the corners of my eyes and I was starting to feel guilty, not to mention absolutely stupid as could be.

“I’m- I really am sorry guys, truly.”

Hotch locked eyes with me, taking a stern tone that one would usually take with a disobedient child, perhaps even Jack.

“I hope that’s a comfort to you when another body shows up. That’s their blood on your hands.”

I was frozen, the gravity of the situation taking its toll.

In the background I heard him say something to Morgan about a new profile having to be made as there were many new things to be known from this revelation. But it all went in one ear and out the other, just unpleasant white noise.

As I clumsily stumbled out of the room, I felt Reid’s eyes burning holes into the back of my brain. I was quick to turn my head to meet his glance, causing him to look down. I felt bad, the weight on my chest growing heavier from the interaction.

I sat down at my desk, turning on my computer and immediately going to google. I typed in “hypnosis” and let the info trickle in.

About 30 minutes later, I still felt absolutely horrible, but I had also put together a valuable profile in the time that had passed. I shut the newly finished file, blowing an abandoned strand of hair out from my eyes. I had to do a double take when I saw Spencer staring once more, his deep hazel eyes meeting my own. I gave him a small smile before standing up and walking to Hotch’s makeshift New York office. I pushed open the heavy door, placing the folder on his too-clean desk.

“What’s this?” He asked, taking it in his hands.

“My theory about the unsub. I think I know what she’s been doing. You can tell the team if you want, I’m not sure if they would wanna hear it from me. ”

He gave a small smile, pushing the file back over to me.

“You get the team together and I’ll get the local PD caught up. You tell them yourself.”

A few minutes later, everyone except for Reid had gathered in the meeting room. I peeked through the half closed blinds that allowed a line of vision to his desk in an attempt to locate him. He was positioned there, staring blankly at his laptop that appeared to have nothing on the screen. I knocked on the window lightly to catch his attention, his glazed over eyes looking in my direction. I tilted my head at him, silently beckoning him to join me. He only shook his in response, shaggy brown locks swaying back and forth. I sighed, frowning at his action. I turned to the group, clasping my hands in front of me.

“Everyone, this will just be a second if you’ll excuse me.”

With a raised eyebrow from Hotchner and a jab in the direction of Spencer’s workspace, I swiftly walked out of the crowded room.

“Spence, care to join us?” I asked, resting one of my hands against my hip, the other on his orderly desk.

“No, I don’t think I will. I need to try to figure this out before she finds her next victim.”

“What makes you think the unsub is a she?” I searched his eyes that had seemingly become brighter at my piqued interest in his hypothesis.

“Well, the unsub seems to be obsessed with symmetry, all the bodies being found in obscure yet symmetrical positions. This could suggest she had some sort of deep rooted insecurity, possibly from some sort of bullying from growing up in a small town where she was looked at as a superior for subpar looks. She moved to the big city, expecting a big break. Instead she was shunned for being less than average. She grew frustrated and as a result, she began her killing spree. The stresser could have been one too many insults that made her snap. Plus, that would account for the butterflies left on the scenes that are used in modern examples of both femininity and symmetry.”

I smiled widely at his words.

“What- why are you smiling, what are you smiling at?”

I tapped his desk, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth. I headed back towards the conference room, looking over my shoulder.

“Because, I’m glad we’re on the same page, Dr.”

——————

“So, our girl, as Dr. Reid has explained to us, is obsessed with her appearance. She’s an organized killer, no mistakes and no signs of blood or anything of the sort on scene. She has practice, she does this sort of thing every day. She is most likely in the age group of 23-30, and has a job in the cosmetic industry, our guess is in plastic surgery. She probably volunteers weekends at local butterfly sanctuaries or zoos, finding comfort in their perfection that those in her life, or formerly in her life, cannot and could not provide.”

“Which would explain to her easy access to non-native species of the insects. She has an absolute infatuation with symmetry, which yet again, links the butterflies on the crime scene to her MO.”

Spencer and I were vividly explaining our shared theory to the team, as well as local law enforcement. He was excited by his discovery and the lead on the killer, and his energy was contagious.

“She kills without remorse and out of jealousy, picking victims who all have one thing in common.”

Spence pointed to all of the images pasted on the board in the center of the room, all of them split in half and reflected, creating a perfect mirrored portrait.

“They all have perfectly symmetrical faces, as well as strong jawlines and high cheekbones. As most of these victims are models or those searching to start a modeling career, we believe she is luring them in with a photographer trope, promising to make their dreams come true.”

I nodded, taking a moment to study Reid’s own sharp yet somehow soft features. I allowed my eyes to wander over his sunken in, kind, and curious eyes; his pillowy pink lips that are in dire need of some chapstick.

“Agent?”

I turned my head, snapped back to reality by Rossi calling my name.

I gave a tight and quick smile, returning to the topic at hand and tactics to catch the unsub. But of course not before Emily gave me a crooked smile, resulting in me rolling my eyes.

“Physically, she’s nothing special, most likely a mundane appearance or one with quite obvious surgical changes. No in between. Check all of the plastic surgeon offices in the area for both employees who fit our description, as well as a patient who has gotten any serious facial mod operations. Do the same for any weekend volunteers at local zoos and animal sanctuaries, specifically working with any insects.”

It was an NYPD officer then that spoke up this time, raising her hand briefly.

“But, you still haven’t mentioned how she’s killing them?”

“Hypnosis.” Reid and I both spoke at the same time. He looked to his black Converse, sliding his hands into his pockets. I observed the room and all of the skeptical faces filling it.

“Even if it may sound far fetched, we saw no signs of anything that indicated a struggle or even any marks or wounds. This led us to believe that some form of hypnosis was used to allow her an easy kill. This means extra caution will have to be taken when actually handling the unsub. Even though we’re positive she’s using hypnosis, which method she is using to actually kill them after the fact is what we’re unsure of.”

I turned to Spencer, handing off the explanation to him.

“We think that because of her whole thing with symmetry, she wouldn’t want to disturb the natural state of the victims and their faces, even if she would do the same to her own.”

“Which means?” JJ asked, her blue eyes slanted and glossed lips left ajar.

“It means that the unsub wouldn’t want to leave any large marks like stab or gunshot wounds.” I nodded at Prentiss, who had made the assumption, confirming she was correct.

“With her presumed background in plastic surgery, we believe she was able to make small incisions that made no visible scars. We’re having the coroner look back over the bodies as we speak.”

“She drains the body’s blood 97% of the way before closing the holes up. What she does with the blood, we don’t know. Another Eddie Mays, perhaps.”

I looked over to Spencer, raising my brows at his comparison. He was quick to defend himself, shaking his hands left to right and mouthing “No” while simultaneously shaking his head the same way, something he seemed to be doing often as of late.

After we had finished consulting with any officers who had remaining questions, we branched off to conduct our own routine investigations. We found that the only thing they all had in common apart from the symmetrical faces, is that they all had visited the Central Park Zoo in the 24 hours before they were killed. We received a phone call from Garcia not long after we put together those pieces, being alerted that there was one girl who had, in her words, “Hit every mark there was to hit, sunshine.”

“Her name is Alessia Copelas, she works weekdays as a surgeon's assistant at Premier Cosmetic, and weekends at Central Park Zoo from 4-8 p.m.”

I smiled at the new info from the blonde bombshell known as Penelope, turning to Reid who was still looking at me quizzically.

“Alright, thanks babes, you’re the best.” I spoke into the phone, a comical “Mwah!” made from either side as we hung up.

He shook his head, keeping the odd look on his face.

“I swear, you guys have a weirder relationship than her and Morgan.”

I laughed, sliding my phone into my back pocket.

“Oh, please, Spence.” I gingerly placed a hand on his cheek, patting it twice.

“You’re just jealous.” I made a pouty face, letting my hand linger before walking off. “Come on, we’re going on a field trip.”

“Where to?” He asked, gripping the door frame, using it as leverage to swing himself closer to me. He took long and quick strides, catching up to me in no time.

“You like animals, right?”

———————

4 Days Earlier, Central Park Zoo, New York

As soon as we entered the zoo, our ears were filled with the sounds of the loud screeches of birds and monkeys alike. Reid covered his ears, cringing and making his displeasure known with an “Ahh!”

I smiled at his geeky behavior, admiring the animals in the enclosures. I paid special attention to a particularly impressive species of tarantula, leaning down to admire them. A few moments later I looked to my left and saw Spencer doing the same thing.

“Did you know that arachnids have asthma which is why they don’t run for extended periods of time, similarly to cheetahs?”

“Yes I did.”

His face scrunched up in an adorable manner, causing an involuntary giggle to fall past my lips.

“Well did you know that-“

“Ma’am?”

I turned to see a young woman with flaming red hair and a freckled face smiling at me, her green collared uniform top complimenting her eyes of a different shade wonderfully.

“Oh, hi, I’m Agent Y/l/n and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

Her expression shifted to a more confused one, her smile not leaving her face.

“What can I do for you two?”

“Is there an Alessia Copelas that works here, maybe volunteers on the weekends?” Spencer asked, his puppy dog eyes immediately warranting a response.

“Yeah, she volunteers here, she seems nice. Is she helping with an investigation?”

“Well we think that she may have some part in a series of murders.”

Her smile disappeared this time, turning into a cement frown as panic flooded her body.

“Oh God, was she- Is she a killer? Have I been working with a killer for all this time? I mean, I never had any shifts with her but from what I heard I thought she was so sweet-“

“Look,”

Reid glanced down to her name tag that read “Lillian” before meeting her eyes. His tongue darted out, licking his lips, a nervous habit of his I’d picked up on.

“Lillian, we aren’t sure if she’s the killer we just needed to get a feel on her and get some information regarding her personal life.”

She started frantically nodding her head, more trying to convince herself she was okay rather than ourselves. I looked over her shoulder at some exhibits, thinking to myself how this would end up being a waste of our time if this poor girl couldn’t get a grip on herself.

I was soon proven wrong when I looked over to see a young girl wearing an identical uniform to Lillian, probably somewhere between 23 and 24. She had untamed chocolate locks with bangs that stopped just above the shoulder, blemishes covering her T-Zone, and a rounded face to go with it.

The cherry on top? Under her arm she carried a small enclosure with what appeared to be amarynthis meneria, the same butterflies found on the victims.

I tapped Reid on the shoulder once as discreetly as possible, catching his attention. I heard him mutter a small “Oh God” before he told Lillian to walk away calmly and quickly. She ignored his request, turning to look at Alessia, letting out a blood curdling scream and sprinting the other direction.

“Shit.” I cursed, beginning to walk towards Alessia, Spencer by my side. I smiled at her, trying to appear friendly. Reid spoke up as we got closer.

“Hello, do you by any chance-“

wham!

“Spence!” I exclaimed, reaching down to help him up from where he had fallen from being whacked by the 4’2 pyscho that was Alessia Copelas.

“Did she get away?”

I turned to see her gone, the only sign she was even here being the forming bruise on the Dr’s face.

“Yeah. She did. I’m sorry, Reid, that was really stupid of me.” He shook his head, running his own hand over the raw skin.

“It’s fine, I would have done the same for you.” He looked up, and I wasn’t sure if it was my school-girl esque crush on him or the fact I just had another experience with a serial killer, but my heart was racing nonetheless.

————————

F.B.I. Field Office, New York, New York, 1 Day Earlier

The stress levels in the room were high.

Despite our best efforts, several more bodies had been found, New York’s narcissists were in a state of panic, and the spirits of the BAU were down to say the least.

“What? Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed, looking at Hotch in disbelief.

He rolled his chocolate eyes, fanning the folder containing the new information we had gathered on Alessia.

“I wish I was, Y/n. She’s off the grid completely, her apartment is empty, phone and credit cards have been deactivated, and the surgeon’s office hasn’t heard from her for 5 days. And the media has decided to give her the name ‘Butterfly Baron’, so she’s probably been fueled even further. We need a new lead before she strikes again.”

I scoffed, standing up and pushing my chair away.

“This is unbelievable. How many times do we have to reinforce the idea to local PD! Especially when the unsub is a self absorbed psycho, do not give them a name! God, I really cannot fathom this.”

I reached up, letting my hair down from where I had messily thrown it up upon my arrival to work that morning.

I stormed out of the room, my heels clicking behind me. I ignored Hotch’s calling of my name, making my way to the closest restroom.

I went in, locking the door behind him. I ran my hands through my roots, tugging just enough to where it hurt.

Turning the water to the left all the way, I splashed it from the stream leaving the faucet on to my face. I scratched my fingernails against the skin, wiping away the tears that had escaped.

“This is all your fault, y/n.” I whispered at myself in the mirror, doing my absolute best to engrain the message in my brain. I had my head hung in shame when a knock rang out.

“Y/n?”

It was Spencer. My mind started going a million miles a minute, thinking about why he could be there. With my voice raised a few octaves, I tried to scrape up a response.

“I’ll be out in a few, Spence.”

It was quiet for a split second, leaving me to foolishly dance around the idea that he had left me to wallow in my sorrowful thoughts.

“Y/n, Hotch wanted me to check on you. Are you ok?”

My heart slightly sank at the idea that he might’ve just come to check on me because he himself was worried. I discarded the thought, bringing myself back.

“Y/n can you please answer me? If you don’t open the door I’m gonna send in JJ or Emily.”

I sighed, wiping under my eyes where my mascara had smudged, begrudgingly walking over to the door. Just as my hand landed on the silver handle, his voice that was constantly playing in my head echoed out once more.

“Y/n, please? I need to know you’re okay. I’ll come in there myself.”

A soft smirk graced my face as I turned the handle to reveal a worried looking Spencer.

“Y/n, oh God, you had me worried.”

He was quiet when he spoke and his hair looked messy, like he had been running his slender fingers through it in a stress filled state.

I sniffled, attempting to still keep back tears that were still threatening to spill.

“I’m alright, Spencer. Really, I’m fine.”

He gave me a small smile, his eyes meeting my own.

“I know, it’s just that when I had my Diludad problem,” he hesitated.

“I would lock myself in bathrooms to shoot up, and I know you aren’t having a problem like that but I just was worried about you- what are you doing?”

I cut off his rambling by throwing my arms around his middle. He tensed, but quickly melted. He wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders and my waist, laying his head on mine.

“Y/n, I promise you, you’re doing your absolute best to stop Alessia. We wouldn’t even be where we are right now if you hadn’t made the connections. Those deaths are not your fault.”

My tears finally began to cascade like a waterfall, staining his shirt.

“I know, but it’s just like it is all my fault! I could have paid closer attention, or-or, I could have went after her at the zoo, it’s all my fucking fault, Reid.”

I sobbed into his shirt, my hand gripping his shirt like my life depended on it. Like if I let go I would fall into a deep, deep, endless hole.

His hand on my waist moved up to cradle my head.

“It’s not, I promise you-“

He was cut off mid sentence by the ringing of his phone.

“I am so, so sorry-”

I pulled away, breifly touching under my nose with my wrist, then moving a hair behind my ear.

“Nope, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Our words almost had overlapped each other as we clambered to fight the tension that had risen. I closed my eyes, tilting my head up, thinking about how unprofessional yet intimate our previous position had been. How wrong, yet how right it felt.

I kept running the moment through my head, the feeling of his warm figure encasing mine on replay.

His phone call played as background noise to the film playing in my brain, his voice calming me to an extent.

“Yeah, we’re on our way. Thanks, Morgan.”

He closed the phone with a snap, also snapping me out of my trance, putting the movie on pause.

“They’ve got a hit. Copelas was seen dropping by her old apartment.”

And for the first time since that Goddamn case had started, I smiled genuinely.

“Let’s go get her.”

————————

15 Minutes Prior, Central Park, New York

“Hotch?”

“Yes?” He looked back from where he was driving, following our lead in a rushed manner.

“What will we do if she...” I trailed off.

“Hypnotizes one of us?” He finished for me. I nodded solemnly.

The look on his face was conflicted and it took him a moment to come up with a response.

“We kill her before we have to kill one of our team members.”

He saw a look of uncertainty on my face and spoke up once more.

“And that’s an order.”

I nodded again, making eye contact with him through the rear view mirror. I fell back into my seat, closing my eyes briefly.

After a few more minutes on the road, we had arrived.

The doors all slammed to the SUVs, one after the other as we stepped out.

“The letter said that she would be here, somewhere here.”

The voice of Morgan was channeling through my earpiece, referring to the letter found at her apartment that she had left just for us.

“We ordered evac on citizens, correct?”

The unsure voice of JJ was also heard through the earpiece, her uncertainty quite unusual to hear.

“Yes, it was the first thing we did, Jayj.”

I whispered, a sly smirk from Spencer forming at my behavior.

“Oh shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

snap!

Our senses adapted, becoming dialed to 11 at the sound of a twig snapping under someone's feet.

“Was that you?” I mouthed to Spencer. He shook his head no and I silently cursed to whatever force was listening.

I nodded, which he then reciprocated, the pair of us slowly walking towards the source of the sound after he did.

“They’re going to remember me, I’ll go down in history.”

The voice was sing-songy and quiet, floating through the air. I took a shaky breath, continuing my steady pace.

My breathing momentarily halted soon after.

Different variations of “Oh my God”s, and loud gasps from almost everyone on the team flooded my ear canal at the horrifying sight in front of us.

Red. So much of it.

“Guys, I think we know what she’s been doing with the bodies’ blood.”

“No shit.” I muttered under my breath.

She was bathed in the blood, it looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

“Alright everyone, I want you to approach her as quietly as possible, Morgan, if you get the chance, corner her.”

Hotch’s voice was a stark contrast to her own, Derek’s response all the same.

—————————

Present Day, Central Park, New York

“But Agents, you still haven’t answered my question. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Alessia Copeleas, FBI, come on, get up, lets go.”

Derek’s voice was stern, not asking, but demanding that Alessia come with us.

“I’m afraid I just can’t do that, Agents.”

She stood up abruptly, causing all of our weapons to rise. The sun reflected off of the silver metal of Reid’s gun, sparkling in a stunning way that caught me off guard.

We all were trying to act as if we were in total control of the situation, but we could tell that us nor Copelas really believed that. Her words were her weapon, and this was the one time where words could hurt, but sticks and stones had virtually no power.

“Take another step and we will have no hesitation to fire.”

She smirked, rolling her eyes.

“If you do, will I be famous you think? You think they’ll hear about me back home?”

Her curls softly blew in the wind, making her appear almost harmless, maybe even endearing, if it wasn’t for the hardening coat of human blood soaking her clothes and seeping from her skin.

“Is that what you want? The kids back home and everyone here to hear about you? You want ‘Butterfly Baron’ written on every billboard in Times Square, your picture painted in museums, films to be made in your honor?” Reid was the one who spoke up this time, his voice remaining strong. Her eyes shone with a sickening excitement at what he said.

“You want to be famous?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Too bad.”

My eyes widened, surprised at the detour the conversation had taken.

“What-what do you mean?”

“Please, the only thing people will hear about is a sad, boring little girl from a small town who killed to feel better about herself. They’ll forget about you in a week, who knows, maybe they’ll even grow an infatuation with your town, someone you went to school with may get as lucky as to catch their big break!” He laughed, while Alessia looked absolutely devastated.

“You? You’ll be a nobody.”

“That’s not true! I’ll go down in history, and they won’t! I’m the fucking butterfly baron for hells sake! All these people?” She gestured towards her field of bodies.

“You won’t remember their names, maybe not even their pretty faces, but me? I’ll live forever.”

Her nostrils flared and she strode over to Reid with purpose. The safety on my glock clicked off, but Spencer motioned for me to wait. So I did.

“You know, Agent-“

“It’s Doctor.”

This visibly agitated her even more as she started her sentence over again.

“Doctor, you have a beautiful bone structure. Absolutely perfect. Symmetrical, not to mention just flat out stunning.”

A glaze formed over Spencer’s honey eyes at her words. He lowered his gun momentarily before turning towards me, Copelas doing the same.

“And you, Agent. Wow. I feel like I’m in an art exhibit, you’re gorgeous. I think the Doctor man here would agree.”

As he lifted his revolver at me, the situation became all too real as I understood what was happening.

I either had to shoot the man that I was struggling to admit I was beginning to love, or died at the hands of the very same man.

Tears flooded my eyes, all safeties were turned down, and all guns were pointed at Reid.

“Spence, please.”

My voice was weak, something that seemed to bring Alessia lots of joy.

She laughed before talking again, commanding Spencer.

“Pathetic, really! Spence”, she mocked,“shoot her.”

“No!”

bang!

whack!

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

Present Day, Somewhere In The Sky, The Jet

I opened my eyes from where I had been tackled to the ground by Hotch, surveying my surroundings to see Alessia laying on the grass, the source of her gunshot wound non-distinguishable from the previous blood on her body.

I looked to the right to see where Spencer had crumpled to, his frame bent in a discombobulated position.

“Spencer!” I cried out, crawling over to him like some sort of dog,

“What happened to him?”

“Y/n, he was going to shoot you-“

“I don’t care you should have let him!”

I cradled his head in my lap, allowing my pent up tears to fall.

“Y/n?”

My eyes snapped open for real this time, my mind calmed at the sight of Spencer sitting next to me on the couch, gently shaking my shoulder in an attempt to wake me from my nightmare.

“Spencer! Sorry, was I too loud?”

He chuckled, gesturing to the rest of the sleeping plane around us.

“You’re fine, I wasn’t sleeping, I decided to reread ‘Fahrenheit 451’ for nostalgia purposes. And you weren’t that loud, you just looked like you were having a bad dream.”

I chuckled at the not-so outlandish idea in an attempt to diminish it from his mind and move on.

“I’m fine. But fun fact, I did have nightmares after reading ‘The Veldt’. Seriously, I don’t get how you can just reread Bradbury’s stuff all the time.”

The genius scoffed, starting a rant on how Ray Bradbury’s storytelling was just classic literature and deserved to be reread, thus successfully changing the topic as I hoped my statement would. Although soon after, he caught on much quicker than I would have liked him to.

“And not to mention, The Veldt alone could be seen as a forewarning to the 21st century and beyond, even Bradbury himself supported that interpretation-‘

I gave him a tired smile, enjoying his rambling like I always did.

“-and you totally just got me to change the subject.”

“I was wondering when you were gonna catch up.”

“Hey!”

He laughed as I rested my head on my hand, trying to fall back asleep.

“Really, I can tell those nightmares are bad. What’s going on?” He questioned, his tone empathetic and compassionate.

“It’s nothing, Reid. I just keep seeing in the park, when Alessia got shot and you-you got hurt but instead of getting up like you did in real life, you just…”

I trailed off, not wanting to relive the negative dream any longer for fear of the tears that were pricking my eyes escaping.

“It’s okay, that didn’t happen, I’m right here.”

He pulled me into a hug, allowing me to bury my head in the crook of his neck, his warmth consuming me once more, a sequel to the film from earlier.

“I know, but what if it hadn’t?” I asked as I pulled away.

He shook his head, reaching for his wallet.

“In this job, this course of work, we can’t focus on ‘what if’s’. In this job, we also get nightmares, all of us. It happens.”

He slid a picture over to me, it was of a happy family. The edges were worn from years of being carried, but the picture seemed loved.

“Gideon gave me that when my nightmares started. He told me about how those families we save everyday, and how that’s what makes what we do worth it. And I know you didn’t know Gideon personally, or the work on the specific case with that family, but I want you to have it anyway-“

I cut him off by throwing my arms around his neck, attempting to speak despite being muffled by his fluffy sweater.

“Thank you, Spence. Truly.”

I smiled, and I imagined he was doing the same.

“No problem y/n. Anytime.”

I moved my legs over to be tucked underneath my arms, leaning into Reid. He wrapped his arm around me, also leaning in. We both managed to fall asleep for the remainder of the ride in our state of content, but not before he managed to sleepily call out my name.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“When we land do you wanna go on a date or somethin’?”

I smiled at him, separating from his form just long enough to see that beautiful face of his.

“Without a doubt.”

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

AHAHAHHAHAHAHA I’M WAY TOO HAPPY WITH THAT LMAOOO but anyway chile-

i don’t have some long ass paragraph to write this time omg wig, i’m just proud asf of my work for once (except for the zoo part ngl kinda didn’t like it😳)

😛✨vibes✨ love u, xx hj

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

Text

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 7/8

read on ao3

start from the beginning

“Thought I’d find you out here.”

The balcony door slides shut behind Maddie, muffling the laughter and chatter coming from her apartment.

“Just like last time,” Buck says. He smiles as she sits down next to him on the bench, throws an arm around her shoulders as she curls into his side. It’s a cool night, but he’s warm from the apartment and the champagne they’ve been drinking (“no liquor during the season” rule be damned), so it’s nice. Nicer still now that Maddie’s here.

“Yeah, but this time is a lot happier,” she says.

It’s true. Four years ago, they were in this same spot at the opposite end of the emotional spectrum — neither going to the Games, Buck with a busted leg, and Maddie without a partner after Doug placed full blame on her for not making the team and dropped her. They’d stayed out all night talking, saying their worst fears and insecurities — about the offseason, the next Olympic cycle, the rest of their careers — into the night, hoping the breeze would take them away and make them feel better. It didn’t, not once the sun came up, but for a while, they could pretend.

Now they sit in the silence that they so often find themselves in together, washed in the lights hanging around the balcony and the sounds of their friends — their family — celebrating inside. They’re in a bubble of happiness now that neither of them wants to break before they have to.

“It doesn’t feel real yet,” Buck says finally. “It still feels like tomorrow Bobby’s gonna call me into his office and say that there’s been a mistake.”

Maddie shakes her head. “There’s no mistake. You earned that spot. We all did.”

Buck rests his cheek on the top of her head. “I’m really proud of you.” She’s been his inspiration for as long as he can remember, the reason he stumbled into this sport that’s become his everything, and to see her dreams finally come true is in some ways better than his own. She was there for everything, exponentially more than their parents ever were, and he can’t even begin to think of how to repay her.

“I’m really proud of you too,” she says. “For everything, not just making the team.”

He blames the stinging in his eyes on the wind and kisses the top of her head as they fall back into quiet, enjoying the peace of the night for a little while longer before rejoining the party inside.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck basically lives at the rink for the next 15 days, even manages to sleep there a couple nights in a row before Eddie drags him back to his place for actual rest. Every day there’s something new he finds — a jump that needs a cleaner landing, an edge that needs to be deeper, a spin that needs to go faster. Little bits that add up to less than perfect, and they’re putting him more and more on edge as the days tick by. He’s got other responsibilities too — press packages, photoshoots, commercials, interviews — and it’s all a whirlwind, flying past him before he can get a chance to really wrap his head around it all. He’s dreamed of this moment for years, of being able to represent his country and see his face in commercials credited as Olympian, and it’s every bit as gratifying and incredible as he’d hoped, he just wishes everything would slow down for a minute so he can actually enjoy it.

But it all just keeps moving, so he takes everything as it comes and tries to live in the moments as much as he can, to live in the positives instead of worrying about the negatives that are threatening to crack him if he thinks about them for too long.

The whirlwind turns into a hurricane once they land in Beijing — as soon as they’re through customs, there’s flashbulbs and reporters shouting at them in multiple languages, fans pushing through the crowd for their own photo ops. Eddie’s got that caged animal look in his eyes again as they make their way to the exit, so Buck grabs his hand and squeezes, lets him know he’s still here, they’re here together, and he’ll shove through the crowd to get them out if he has to.

He hopes someone gets a picture of the smile Eddie gives him. He wants it printed and framed and hung on his wall where he can always see it.

The Olympic Village itself is like a luxury apartment complex — 15 high rise buildings with smaller ones around them, housing dorms for every athlete, cafeterias, workout rooms, a general store, even a post office. They have just enough time after the tour to drop their bags in their rooms before they’re whisked off to the Olympic Park to get their credentials and a first look at the skating arena. It looks like any other arena on the outside — big, industrial, a looming presence over the rest of the buildings — but it’s what’s going to happen inside, or what might not happen, that makes it feel all the more imposing, like it’s waiting to swallow everyone whole.

They’re all at dinner when he really starts to feel overwhelmed. As much as he wants to talk with the team and mingle with friends and acquaintances he hasn’t seen in years, he feels twitchy and uncomfortable and everything is just the wrong side of loud. He excuses himself, blaming jet lag and an early workout session, and he ignores Eddie’s concerned gaze as he makes his way back to their room. He flops onto the bed, the only light coming from the dim lamp on the nightstand and the view of the city skyline from their balcony, and he tries to get himself to relax, to settle the electricity jumping all over him.

He doesn’t notice Eddie come in the room until he feels the bed shift, sees him crawl up his body until they’re face to face, Eddie’s arms bracketing his head as he gently rests his weight on Buck.

“You okay?” he asks.

Buck shrugs, hands coming up to rest on Eddie’s hips. “None of this felt real before today, and now we’re here and...I don’t know, it’s almost too real. It’s a lot to take in.”

Eddie hums and leans down, places a feather light kiss in between Buck’s eyebrows where he knows he scrunches up when he’s upset. “Do you need anything from me?”

Buck threads a hand through Eddie’s hair, firm so he doesn’t go too far. “You,” he says, because it’s true — Eddie’s the only thing he wants to see or feel or think about until he feels settled in his own skin again. “Just need you.” He pulls Eddie down and kisses him, unhurried, wanting to take his time and get lost in it, will his brain to shut off and just be. Eddie drops down to his elbows, pushing them even closer together, and Buck gasps softly as their cocks brush together, both of them well on their way to hard. Eddie takes the opportunity to lick into Buck’s mouth and Buck melts, sure it’ll only take a few minutes like this for him to come in his pants like a teenager.

But that’s the opposite of what he wants right now, so he flips them both over until he’s straddling Eddie’s hips and starts kissing down his neck, his hands finding the hem of his t-shirt and slowly pulling it up and off. He takes his time, savors the way Eddie’s breath stutters as Buck swirls a tongue around his nipple, chases the blush moving down his chest with open mouth kisses. Eddie tugs at his shirt, and Buck is more than happy to oblige, stripping it as he moves back up to kiss Eddie again, deeply, soundly, relieved that he can feel the crackling anxiety tone itself down, turn into simmering want instead as he tastes more and more of Eddie.

“Lube?” Buck asks, because Eddie’s hot under his hands and his pants are feeling more than tight and he needs to be in Eddie right now or he’s going to lose it.

“In my bag,” Eddie says, kissing down Buck’s jaw and working his pants down.

“And condoms?”

He feels Eddie smirk into his skin. “I think there are some in that welcome basket they gave us.”

Buck thanks whoever’s listening that those rumors were true. He only trips a little bit as he gets up and grabs everything and strips the rest of the way. When he turns back, Eddie’s stripped too, miles and miles of skin laid out on the bed and Buck’s certain he’s glowing and it’s not just his imagination this time and—

“God you’re gorgeous.” It’s worth it to see Eddie’s blush get impossibly deeper and move further down his chest.

He kisses Eddie again, a little more frantic, slicking up his fingers and swallowing the moan Eddie lets out when he starts rubbing at his entrance. He works his way in slowly, with every intention of still taking his time, but Eddie’s sighing into his mouth, an unconscious string of “please please please” tumbling out with it, and Buck doesn’t want to deny Eddie anything, ever, as long as he can help it. He moves faster, working in a second finger, then a third, scissoring Eddie open until he’s shaking and panting underneath him.

“Come on, Buck, please—” Buck cuts him off with a searing kiss, pulling away long enough to tear the condom open and roll it on, and then he’s kissing Eddie again and pushing into him, and he’s hot and tight and perfect, and Buck almost blacks out. He picks up a rhythm, steady but not teasing, and tastes every part of Eddie he can reach — his jaw, his neck, his chest, his shoulders and back again. Eddie’s everywhere, completely surrounding him, and he chases his orgasm as it builds in his gut, finesse and any attempt at taking his time quickly forgotten. He can tell Eddie’s close too, feels him clenching down around him, and Buck gets a hand on Eddie’s cock between them, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Eddie bites down on Buck’s shoulder as he comes, spilling hot onto Buck’s hands and on their stomachs, and it only takes a few more thrusts for Buck to follow, the edges of his vision whiting out with the force of it.

He drops down just enough to bury his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck as they both come down, still wanting — needing — to be surrounded by him. When he can finally breathe again, he pulls out and makes his way to the bathroom, throwing out the condom before finding a washcloth in a cabinet. Eddie’s half asleep when he gets back, but perks up as Buck cleans them both up and manhandles him until they're both under the covers. The bed is on the smaller side to fit two full grown men, but it’s all the more excuse for Buck to plaster himself to Eddie, an arm thrown firmly over his chest and their legs tangled together.

They lay in the quiet, the only sounds coming from the city below, and Buck finally feels calm, or at least calm enough that his mind’s not racing. His eyes get heavier and heavier, lulled by Eddie’s breathing underneath him and the random shapes he can feel him trace on his back.

“Still okay?” Eddie whispers, stopping his drawing and wrapping his arm around Buck fully.

Buck nods and closes his eyes. “Still just need you.”

Eddie kisses his forehead and whispers, “I’m not going anywhere.” Buck falls asleep with a smile on his face and I love you echoing in his head.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Team USA, get ready, you’re up next!”

Everyone around Buck starts jumping and cheering, hustling toward the exit to get ready for their march in the Parade of Nations. It was almost easy to forget that’s why they’ve been waiting in the bowels of the stadium for two hours in the first place — watching the performances on TV screens placed around the room didn’t quite translate to the fact that they too would be out there soon enough, decked out in full red, white, and blue, waving at the fans and supporters that have traveled from all over the world to watch them compete. It’s how Buck’s watched the opening ceremony ever since he was a kid anyway — glued to the TV, trying to pick out his favorite skaters from other countries as they marched through, picturing himself there so clearly he could practically feel the wind on his face, hear the roar of the crowd so loudly it was like the were in his living room.

It was a fantasy then, but it’s reality now, and Buck wishes he could go back and tell his six year old self that he will get here, and it will feel every bit as amazing as he imagined it would.

By the time they make it to their seats, Buck’s arms feel heavy from waving for five straight minutes, his cheeks hurt from smiling in a million different selfies, and he’s shivering in his designer Team USA uniform.

He wishes he could stay in this moment forever.

There’s some more performances about unity and peace and everything else the Olympics are supposed to represent, until finally, a torchbearer runs into the stadium, carrying the Olympic flame that’s made its way here all the way from Athens. They pass it to the final torchbearer, a decorated Chinese speed skater, who runs it up the short hill to the cauldron, lighting it from below. The flames grow and fireworks go off, people start cheering and dancing around him again, and for all the pinching himself he’s had to do since they announced the team, this is the most real thing he’s felt and may ever feel. The flame in him is blazing too, ready to be set free, and it burns brighter still when he looks to Eddie, his smile wide and his eyes sparkling. In all his wildest dreams, he never imagined being at the Olympics with someone who makes him feel like he’s already won something, but now that he is, that desire to win just keeps growing, fueling the flame more and more.

He kisses Eddie’s cheek and joins in on the celebration. They’ll party tonight and into the morning, but then, it’s back to business.

He’s here for a medal, and whatever the next two weeks try to throw his way, he is not going home empty handed.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m gonna throw up.”

“There’s still four teams before they skate, Buck.”

“Perfect, plenty of time to throw up.”

Eddie just shakes his head and focuses back on the ice as the Russian team hits their final pose. As each team gets their scores and doesn’t monumentally fuck up, Buck gets more and more nervous for Maddie and Chim. It’s not that he doubts them, it’s more like he doubts the entire scoring system — they’re only in first by two tenths of a point after the rhythm dance, and anyone could pull ahead enough to beat them at the last minute.

He knows they’ll be amazing. They’re always amazing. Their win just depends on whether or not the judges agree with him today.

The final group comes out to warm up, and Buck and Eddie are on their feet, flags waving high above their heads and cheering with the rest of the supporters’ section. Maddie and Chim spot them from the ice and wave before quickly schooling themselves back into performance mode. They look incredible — Chim in all black and Maddie sparkling in her gold dress — and Buck’s stomach clenches again in the hope that she’ll have a matching medal when it’s all over.

He feels Eddie nudge him as they sit back down. “You still with me?”

Buck smiles at him and it’s easy, real, despite the nerves still swimming around in him. “Just thinking about how this reminds me of our first date.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “Autumn Classic was not our first date.”

“It kind of was,” Buck says, shrugging.

“You barely wanted me there, if I remember correctly. Plus May was there too.”

“Okay, so it wasn’t perfect.”

“No,” Eddie says, slipping his hand into Buck’s. “But I think this date makes up for it.”

They fall into an easy running commentary after that, and it’s enough to distract Buck and keep his anxiety at bay. If he tries, he can pretend they are at Autumn Classic again, where the stakes were lower and anything felt possible. It makes him a little less nervous for Maddie and Chim, and a little less nervous for himself, too. The mens’ event starts tomorrow, and it’ll be his turn to get on the ice and prove himself to the judges and most of the world watching from home. If he just keeps pretending it’s the beginning of the season — and not the potentially crushing end — maybe he’ll be able to keep it together.

The announcer introduces Maddie and Chim, and seeing them on the ice, looking confident and excited and ready, settles Buck even more. Their program is classic — classic music, classic costumes — but still fun and technically top notch and undeniably them, and the audience is mesmerized from the very first steps. They hit every line, every pose, every lift, and by the time they transition from the soft tones of “Fever” to the ripping guitar of “Burning Love”, the audience is all in, clapping along to the beat and loudly cheering them on. They hit their final pose, and the whole arena is on their feet, and louder still once they get their final score.

Buck’s not great at math, but he’s pretty sure the last team will need a miracle to beat them.

He holds his breath anyway, right up until the end, until the final team’s score is announced, and Maddie and Chim are officially gold medalists. It’s a blur of celebrating after that, but everything clears enough for Buck to get a perfect view of the medal ceremony and Maddie and Chim’s faces, beaming with joy and slight disbelief, even as the medals are slipped over their heads.

Buck’s proud, unbelievably so, and happy beyond belief for his sister, but the nerves are churning in him even faster, because now it feels like there’s a precedent, an expectation that he and the rest of Bobby’s skaters will do as well as their teammates. He’s always aiming for gold, but now it feels like it’s necessary, like anything less will be devastating instead of just disappointing. And then what about Eddie? He wants to win just as much as Buck, and Buck wants him to do well, but they can’t have a tie, one of them is going to do better than the other. And won’t that make it all the more heartbreaking when it’s not Buck that comes out on top?

He shoves all that away for now as he and Eddie fight their way through the crowd and down to the green room, because it’s too much and it doesn’t matter, at least not today. What matters is that Maddie is running into his arms, still happy crying, and he lets himself be completely wrapped up in her joy.

He’s proud of her. That’s one thing he knows for sure. That’s what he focuses on and hopes it’s enough to keep the voices quiet until tomorrow.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #the last chapter got LONG so here's part 1 #i can't believe it's almost over!!#ficcery

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anightflower · 3 years

Text

Come and Find Me Chapter 5: The Game

Sorry this chapter is a bit short, I am in the midst of finals and final projects. Thank you for sticking by my side, despite the crazy schedule

Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Stalking, Swearing, Violence

Spencer made his way to the counter, a smiling Ava greeted him.

“Spencer! I’m surprised you’re not with (Y/N), not that I’m not happy to see you of course.”

Spencer returned her smile with a slightly nervous one, “She’s still in bed, I thought I would bring her some coffee before I head to the office. I also wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh Spencer, if you’re confessing your undying devotion to me now, I’m afraid it’s a bit too late, I have my own sexy superhero boyfriend now.” Ava said, doing her signature eyebrow waggle, causing Spencer to laugh.

“I do have a confession, but it involves (Y/N).” Spencer said, a smile spreading across his face.

Her expression became more serious. “Wait is (Y/N) pregnant?”

“I- no, that’s not what-” Spencer stuttered, Ava let out a giggle out Spencer’s flustered face.

“I want to ask her to move in with me.” Spencer said finally.

“Oh my gosh Spencer, that’s fantastic! And I’m honored that you’re asking me, as (Y/N) was mine first, so it’s only right you ask me permission.” Ava grinned, pressing a hand to her heart.

“Do you think she’ll say yes? I don’t want to rush her, I know we’ve been only dating for 8 months, but it just feels right. I love her so much and I want to wake up to her every morning and kiss her goodnight every night. Besides it will be so much easier because she basically lives at my apartment now and I just want to make it official, you know?” Spencer rambled.

Ava’s face radiated pure joy. “Oh Spence, she’ll definitely say yes! God (Y/N) will be over the moon are you kidding? You two are the cutest fucking thing, oh my god this is so exciting!” She squealed.

“I’m going to ask her when she gets back from Florida, I know her lease is almost up so that will make things a lot easier too. I’ve been looking at different apartments that are slightly bigger because I know she wants an at home office and I’m sure it will be nice to have her own space-”

“Spencer, I am so glad she has you. You make her so happy and treat her so well. I know she’ll be happy with whatever. But beware, her full interior designer will come out if you guys get your own place.” Ava warned teasingly.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Spencer grinned.

________________________________________________________________

His hand shook as he opened the door to his apartment. As he slammed the door shut, he met the worried face of his roommate, who was putting on his jacket to leave.

“You okay man?” His roommate Nick asked, eyes filled with concern.

“Don’t worry about it dude.” The Boy said with an angry shrug making his way to his room.

“Uh, okay dude, if you need anything shoot me a text. I’m meeting up with Ava, I’ll probably stay at her place for a couple days.”

“Cool bro, have fun.” The boy said flatly.

Nick looked like he was about to say something, but he shut his mouth and shrugged.

“Later.” Nick said quietly, grabbing his bag and fleeing out the door.

The Boy didn’t respond. He just stomped into his room, red filling his vision.

The Doctor was going to take you away from him permanently, he could feel it.

Moving in leads to marriage, then kids. How could he have let it get this far? The Boy should have intervened earlier, opened your eyes to the truth.

The Boy let out a scream and punched a whole in the wall. It felt good to let his anger out. He pictured the Doctor in place of the wall, the image brought of that man bloodied and pleading sent pleasurable shivers through him. The Boy made his way to his bed and pulled out a box from underneath it. It was an obvious spot to keep it underneath there, but Nick respected his space, so the boy had not been worried.

He pulled out his pictures of you. Each image lovingly taken of you, images of you getting ready for work, smiling with Ava, and then his favorites, the ones of you sleeping peacefully in your bed. He had to resist reaching out and caressing your face. He knew he couldn’t risk waking you up, it wasn’t time for you to see him yet, but now it was.

The boy had started to calm down, until an image of you kissing Spencer fell out of the pile. Red filled his vision once again. He had purposely taken this picture to remind himself of his goal; being in the Doctor’s place.

He ripped the image to shreds, and threw the box of goods causing your pictures, some of your old coffee cups and Drew’s home videos to fly all over his room. His rage filled him as he flipped his desk. He couldn’t stop himself as he ripped his rooms to shreds, breaking things and tossing various items at the wall in rage.

When his breathing finally returned to normal, the boy grabbed a bag and began packing. He threw in all of his essentials and grabbed the tapes and photos he could of you. He wasn’t coming back here after this. You and him were going to start a new life in Florida, he had already set everything up. He had his own secluded place and sent ahead some of the things he needed ahead.

He would leave tonight and be down in Florida a day before you. He had planned to arrive a day ahead of you so he could get your home ready. He had even made a little room for you to adjust to everything, knowing how this big of a change would affect you. But he knew you would do it once you realized that you two were meant to be.

Joy filled the boy as he looked around his mess of a room, he felt relief at the thought of never seeing this place or the Doctor again. Yet in his happy stupor, he failed to see the photos and tape he had missed to pick up.

________________________________________________________________

Present Day

Reid had reached speeds of nearly 110 as he raced back to the precinct with Emily. SHe had not chastised him for his speeds, too worried about the sorrow in Penelope’s voice and what that could mean.

They raced into the precinct and found Penelope, JJ, and Morgan in the meeting room.

“Hotch and Rossi are still talking to Curtis, but they should be back in 30.” Morgan explained.

“There is no time to wait.” Penelope growled. “I can show this to them once they get here.”

“Any luck at Special Delivery?” Emily asked JJ.

“It shut down 5 weeks ago apparently. So whoever we saw, still had access to a uniform. They probably did it to copy Curtis.” JJ explained, her face solemn.

“Shit.” Emily said, flopping down into a chair.”

“I received this ten minutes ago.” Penelope explained, drawing everyone’s attention to the screen at the front of the room. “Reid, you aren’t going to like this, I’m so sorry.”

Spencer’s blood ran cold as he prepared himself for the worst.

The screen was black for a few seconds and then an automated voice rang out from the speakers. “Ring! Ring!” the deep voice said. “Have you figured it out, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer’s heart stopped as images of you flooded the screen. Photos of you and Spencer flashed across the screen. None of which either of you had taken yourselves, each of these was taken from afar. He felt ill when he saw the ones from outside of your apartment. He nearly vomited when the screen switched to photos of you inside your apartment, peacefully sleeping, completely unaware that a completely crazed man was inches away from you.

“I’ve been to your lectures, Dr. Reid.” A voice narrated from the screen. “I know you’ve studied men like me. It’s very fascinating to hear someone talk about you like they’ve known you since birth, when the two of you haven’t even met once. You took one of my dearest friends away from me. But we adapted, your small victory didn’t stop him from guiding me to my love and taking her from you. Do you think with all your knowledge, all of your cases, all of your team, that you can find her in time?”

A timer appeared on the screen, counting down from a minute.

“What?” Penelope cried out, “That wasn’t there before, how in the hell is it there?” She rushed to her computer and began messing around on the keyboard.

Spencer shot out of his chair and raced over to Penelope’s side. “Penelope, what does this countdown mean?” He asked, panicked.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! It didn’t appear before this. The email didn’t even mention a countdown! I tried to track the email, but it was a throwaway.” Penelope looked ready to cry.

“Spencer, it could mean anything.” Morgan said, trying to calm him down.

“Oh yeah Morgan?” Spencer spat. “Well considering it was showing images of my girlfriend before it, my hopes aren’t too high!”

“Spencer.” JJ snapped, “Yelling isn’t going to solve anything.”

“What if it was Will JJ? Would you be calm?” Spencer growled back at her.

The timer was quickly reaching its end.

“Penelope do something, please.” Spencer begged, his voice breaking.

“I’m trying, I don’t know what to do.” Penelope cried out, horrified at her helplessness.

Tears began to flow down Spencer’s face. The room watched in horrified silence as the timer reached zero.

It was silent for a moment and then Spencer’s phone rang.

He looked down at it to see it was an unknown number. His heart stopped as he realized “Ring! Ring!”

“(Y/N) promised to call me after her meeting, if she had been there, she would have called me now.” Spencer said quietly.

“Spencer, if you answer it, I can try and track the number and centralize the area it could be coming from.” Penelope explained urgently.

Spencer took a deep breath and answered the phone. They all jumped up in shock as a video feed came on at the same time he pressed answer.

His heart swelled with relief, you were alive, you seemed unharmed, but god you looked terrified.

“Penelope, scan the room, see if you can find any recognizable items.” Morgan mumbled quietly.

As Penelope’s keys began clacking a way, a voice that sounded eerily like the one in the video of you smugly said, “Hello Doctor, so nice to finally talk to you. Or have we talked before? You never know, let’s see if that big brain of yours remembers.”

“Who are you?” Spencer hissed into the phone.

“Someone who you’ve taken so much from. My mentor, the woman I love- but luckily this ends now.” The voice purred.

“What do you want?” Spencer tried to keep his voice calm.

“I want to play a game with you Doctor, let’s see if that genius brain of yours is as good as they say. You have 24 hours to find your girl. If you are so smart you’ll be able to find her. But when you don’t, and you won’t, it will prove that you don’t don’t deserve her. That you never deserved her. If you can’t find her in time, you will never see her again.”

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x reader #Come and Find Me #anightflowerwrites #anightflower writes

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