#I started a tv show a few hours ago and have been skimming it for gay characters

[wingedcat13]

Synovus: Villains Never Retire (2)

[This is part two of three for Villains Never Retire, and the third overall installment of Synovus’s story! As usual, if you’d prefer the Ao3 posting, you can find that here, and the master post with links to all of the parts of the Synoverse pinned on my blog, or here. Enjoy!]

All told, you think you did a pretty good job staying out of the scramble for your territory.

Yes, you did somehow manage to get caught up in one of the first power moves someone made and put one of them in the hospital on principle. And okay, maybe you were… tetchy… about people starting to lay claim to titles that once had been yours.

But hey. You were a villain. Selfishness was in your nature.

There was, however, one very significant hurdle to overcome.

You were very quickly becoming dangerously bored.

Normally, you kept yourself busy by partaking in various villainous pastimes. You exercised your powers, studied pop culture to keep your witticisms up to date, and actually studied various goings on from political shifts to news from other villains. If you had a plan upcoming, you worked on filling in its details. If you were in recovery from your last plan… well, you were in recovery.

But with your grand plan of retirement, there was no reason to do any of that. All you had to keep you occupied was a private island full of state of the art facilities, a teenager, and your small army of minions.

Okay, so it shouldn’t have been that hard, but you were used to multitasking, okay?

It didn’t help that everyone else, rather than trying to avoid the news of what was happening on the mainland, were actively keeping up with it. It seemed like every time you entered a room, someone scrambled to change a TV or radio channel, or stop a video’s playback. Several times, you showed up to eat in the dining hall, and found everyone else furiously debating something in a corner - only to stop cold as soon as anyone saw you.

And you also often lost the war against your own curiosity. Typically late at night (by your reckoning, which could mean any time on the clock at all depending on when you’d woken up last), you wound up skimming headlines, or going through your emails.

Still. You didn’t intervene. Not even when fucking Dazzler showed back up, and you hated Dazzler so much you’d spent a year specifically running them out of the hemisphere.

It was tempting, though.

Your self-imposed exile - sorry, retirement - was interrupted about a month after the fighting over the West Coast began in earnest. You woke up one morning to find an invitation set out on your balcony, complete with a completely unnecessary white rose threaded through a signet ring.

You stared at it for a minute. Then you raised your phone and snapped a picture of it, and dropped it into a group chat.

[Syn]: Someone care to explain what this is about?

You left it where it was, and went back inside. You’d need to do laundry before you dealt with that. And probably inform people of where you’d be going.

—-

By the time you were dressed and had eaten something, you had a response.

[Tall]: It hasn’t been that long since you came to a meeting, Synovus.

[Dr.W]: We even gave you a few hours’ notice. This time.

You hissed at your phone as you replied.

[Syn]: I recall the last meeting. I also recall, not long after that, delivering my resignation to each and every one of you in this chat.

You might’ve gone on to say more - but you nearly ran into Minerva, and abruptly had to reach out to steady her.

“Watch- Synovus?”

The once-hero was balanced on crutches, which she was not adapting to with any fluidity. Her leg, broken at Alexandria’s birthday dinner a month ago, was nearly healed. Or at least, it would be, if she stopped trying to walk on it. The wonders of a heroic healing factor.

“That is my name.” You reply intelligently.

Minerva scowls at you, and at first you think it’s for nearly running into her or your reply, but then she surprises you by going so far as to take one hand off of her crutches - to indicate your clothes. “Where are you going?”

“Well, you needn’t be so suspicious, dear Minerva.” You drawl. The helmet is still tucked under one arm, but you already feel the mask of your field persona slipping back into place. It’s comforting, if inconvenient.

For a moment, Minerva blocks your way, staring you down. You meet her eyes, relatively unbothered. You two have done a variation of this particular dance too many times by now not to know how it ends - with you getting away.

She whistles.

You wince.

“What’s up?” Asks your young protégé, poking her head out of a door in the hall. “Did you throw one of the crutches aga- oh.”

Alexandria slips more fully into the hall, considering you curiously. “I thought we didn’t have any more training exercises today?”

It’s a reasonable assumption. You and Alexandria have been keeping to her training regimen, at least. Those sessions are the only times you’ve donned your costume since you delivered your notes of notice (for all the good that seems to have done you).

“We do not.” You answer shortly. “I have a meeting.”

“With who?” Alexandria asks, tilting her head. Minerva is still watching you with an intense scrutiny you find more annoying than unsettling.

“Individuals.”

“Villains?”

“Presumably.”

“Anyone I’d know?”

“Probably.”

“Where’s the meeting?”

“Elsewhere.”

“When is it?”

“Soon.”

“Can I come?”

“No.”

“Synovus!” Oflok calls, jogging down the hall after you with a small box in one hand, “good, glad I caught you - these are for Tallflawes.”

Either oblivious to or uncaring of Minerva and Alexandria’s reactions (one a sharp start, the other a more subtle tensing) Oflok tucks the box of what you know are cookies into your upturned helmet, while you pinch the bridge of your nose.

Minerva recovers first, “Tallflawes, as in the supervillain, I presume?”

“The Scourge of the East Coast!” Alexandria sounds, if anything, like she might start squealing in excitement. “Oh that makes sense that you two would cooperate! Hey, did you know that there’s a group on the Internet who thinks you two should date-“

“I am not dating Tallflawes.” You snap, flushed. You know exactly who to blame for that stupid fan theory.

Oflok gives you a look. “You’ve done worse.” She comments, and you wish she meant the murdering.

Scowling, you tug on Oflok’s shadow, turning it briefly physical to tug at her ears. Most people find the reminder of your ability to manipulate their personal shadows suitably intimidating.

Oflok sticks out her tongue at you.

You resist the urge to respond in kind.

“Do you know who else is going to be at this meeting?” Minerva demands, but she’s looking at Oflok.

“Ah.” Oflok glances at you, and you throw up your free hand in askance. “Lord Synovus-“ (it was one of those kinds of days, as you’d told her earlier) “-is sworn not to discuss those meetings. You know how he is.”

Alexandria nods, “Well, if Tallflawes is there, and it’s not a one-on-one, that’ll probably mean… something to do with territory? That’ll mean Gray Gangster at least, since he controls a good chunk of the area between you two? I don’t know anyone else who has significant enough territory to bother.”

“Dr. Wraith.” Minerva says grimly. “And the mages, Unwritten and Chanter.”

“Touched as I am that you all are so concerned about my social circles.” You interject, before they can keep guessing your comrades. “I do, in fact, need to get to this meeting, so if you will just scoot your righteousness to one side-“

“I’m going.” Alexandria announces, “So lead the way.”

When you glare at her, she shrugs, “I am your apprentice.”

Minerva’s expression at that is a study you don’t have time for - not the least because she informs you, “I am not allowing my daughter into a room full of supervillains without me there.”

The idea of it - taking Menace as your shadow, while Athena stands guard at your shoulder in furiously disapproving silence - is. Well. It just is, and it shouldn’t be, because this should never have come up.

“Easy fix.” You reply smoothly, on autopilot, “as neither of you will be going. This is not a meeting for apprentices or injured over-protective heroes.”

“I’ve fought through worse injuries.” Minerva says stubbornly.

“Mom, I don’t need you to protect me so much anymore-“ Alexandria abandons that angle completely at the look Minerva gives her, and tries another, “- it wouldn’t make any sense for you to go, why would Athena be there?”

“Then I won’t go as Athena.” Minerva says, irked. “Synovus has to have spares. That’ll do for one evening.”

You nearly have a heart attack in the goddamn hallway. Mental image of Minerva in your costume aside, you can’t think of any way to declare that you are hiding someone more clearly than to have them show up in your hand-me-downs. Even Menace’s costume was designed to be different, regardless of the similarities between them.

Tallflawes and Wraith would have a field day.

“This.” You tell Oflok, deadly serious. “This is why we keep our mouths shut, my dear Fair Lady of the Kitchen. This. Is your fault. Fix it.”

“Well, there is that project we’ve been working on.” Oflok muses, and that is when you know you are well and truly fucked.

—-

At least you finally get a chance to reply to the group chat again.

[Tall]: Yes, I did get your note. Very elegant.

[????]: Yeah about that… the swirling miasma of chaos that is my life kinda… ate it before I could read it?

[????]: Saw the Twitter post though.

[Tall]: Decidedly not elegant.

[OP]: I did not receive a note. This upsets me.

[Syn]: Optix, give me a physical location to find you, and I will gladly remedy my error.

[OP]: No :P

[Dr.W]: Come on, Synovus. You didn’t really think the rest of us would continue to suffer through these meetings without you, did you?

[Ibis]: My companion and I will also be in attendance. We wish to see you, Synovus.

[*GP*]: Ooh, wouldn’t wanna upset the goddess, Syn

[Syn]: Someone remind me why we added Prodigy.

[Dr.W]: I believe it was your suggestion, with Optix’s support.

[Dr.W]: You did not elaborate on your reasoning, but Optix said something about ‘memes’ being ‘fire.’

[Dr.W]: It was mixed with emoticons, so I can only presume my interpretation is correct.

[*GP*]: [FortniteDance.gif]

Syn, ????, Tall, Dr.W, and Ibis have reacted to this message with *thumbs down*

[OP]: Synovus, bring your guests

[Dr.W]: Guests?

[Tall]: Optix, I feel obligated to remind you not to listen to anyone through our devices.

[Tall]: Additionally, I second both the question and the suggestion.

[Syn]: …

[Ibis]: We wish also to meet your allies.

[Ibis]: Unless they are prisoners - then we will respect your rights to your own sacrifices.

[Dr.W]: Here - all in favor of extending the Right of Parley to Synovus’s guests for the duration of the next gathering?

Tall, *GP*, ????, Ibis, and OP have reacted to this message with *thumbs up*

[Syn]: … Will the teleporter you sent me even take more than one person?

[Tall]: You’ll have to stand rather close together, but I see no issue - provided, of course, your collective mass does not exceed the specifications.

[*GP*]: Wait, who’s playing host this time? Need to know if I should eat before or not.

Resigned, you get the details from Tallflawes, and promises that the others will intervene if anyone else at the meeting not in your chat - namely, Gangster and Chanter - try anything.

While the banter continues (now at Galactic Prodigy’s expense instead of your own - the poor soul had made a typo), you set your phone down, and rub at your face with both hands. You are currently sitting in your own - well, okay, it was technically a sitting room.

You were waiting on Minerva and Alexandria, was the point.

You pull the package of cookies out of your helmet and tuck it into a pocket where it won’t get too crushed - you’re tempted to just eat them, but you know Oflok will make you wait while she makes more. You’ve had enough peer pressure for one day.

Helmet now clear, you slip it on, and find comfort in the familiarity of the interior, and being closed off from the world again.

As the clasps are sealing and the audio is syncing, you catch Menace’s voice, calling, “Ready!”

You look up, noting that she also has her helmet on now - though you could tell from the voice. Like your helmet, hers has a slight affectation, allowing her to sound more feminine without focusing. Though yours is featureless, hers has angles, more akin to a motorcycle helmet with a permanent visor.

And behind her is Minerva, in the results of some of your attempts to avoid boredom.

(Well, that wasn’t the only reason you’d designed it - but it was the reason you’d gone from concept to testing, ostensibly just to see if you could do it. You’d never intended to actually show it to her.)

‘Athena’ had been styled after a war goddess, what was worshipped by her partner. This costume, which you’d mentally dubbed ‘Amphitrite,’ was meant to fit the woman who wore it. You knew it wasn’t quite the same, given it was your design and not Minerva’s, but-

“Are these real pearls?” Minerva demands, running a hand over the scalloped edge of her half-mask. The pearls in question are set into the brow, at different points to accentuate the design.

You blink. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

Minerva makes a disapproving noise, and you roll your eyes. “They’re not load bearing, and they’re naturally harvested with mindfulness for the environment. You can pry them out to give to the poor or people who help you if you want.”

Minerva narrows her gaze at you, though it’s filtered slightly by the glass lenses of this mask. “You’ve… put a lot of thought into this.”

You shrug as you stand. “It seemed a shame not to have something more fitting for your costume.” You don’t intend for that to be a double-entendre, but given that this suit does hug the figure more, you realize it could be. You move on rather than address it, circling to check the seals and explaining as you do.

“It’s modeled after a wetsuit, so you won’t have to worry about potential wear and tear. The interior is woven with Kevlar and padded for ballistics. I presumed you’d prefer something more akin to your old costume in terms of contact, if only for familiarity, ergo-“ You gesture to the mask, “No full helmet, and the collar not reaching your chin. All of the compartments are water tight, and the compression should help with deep dives.”

You fold your arms, considering, “I wouldn’t recommend relying on it in arctic waters, we didn’t get to testing that factor.”

Minerva blinks, having stood warily still throughout your inspection. “And the color?”

Rather than white and gold, as her old suit had been, ‘Amphitrite’ was a darker blue, with slight lines of distortion. There were panels of extra fabric at the waist for modesty, though they were shorter than the skirt of Athena’s chiton.

You’d kept the gold accents though. Small gleams at the neck, wrists, and hips. Lining under the eyes of the mask. It worked with her hair.

“Camouflage. White or black stands out in the water. Blue seemed both fitting from a design standpoint, and practical.”

Minerva rolls her shoulders, quietly pensive. You realize you’re holding your breath.

“Well?” Menace prompts, leaning in to poke at her mother.

“I-“ Minerva falters, then sighs. “Thank you, Synovus. It’s - unexpected.”

“You think it’s creepy.” You conclude, sighing. “I promise you the measurements were guesses-“

“It’s - a little unsettling.” Minerva admits, “But not for the reasons you think. Before I became Athena, I… would occasionally go out for ocean rescues. I wore a wetsuit… and a snorkel mask.”

She reaches up to touch the edge of the mask you’ve given her again. You can place that hesitancy now - it’s wonder.

“I didn’t know.” You say softly, and it’s the truth. “Though I take it that means you don’t dislike it?”

“She loves it.” Menace informs you.

“A- Menace.” Minerva scolds.

You are grinning, beneath your helmet. “Well, in that case, there is one other matter of business before we can leave.”

“And that would be?”

“A name!” Menace crows, “A villain name!”

“I am not a villain.” Minerva corrects her quickly.

Menace shrugs, “You are for this meeting. I suggest Pacifica, after the ocean.”

“In my notes for the costume, I referred to it as Amphitrite, in keeping with your previous naming convention.” You offer.

Minerva shakes her head, “When I first started,” she says quietly, “I told people, when they asked, that a Naiad had rescued them.”

“Then a Naiad you will be.” You accept. The name, both Greek and tied to the water nymphs, feels right.

But you weren’t here to play dress up.

“The others you’re going to meet today know I change methods of address, but for formality reasons, will default to the neutral. I ask that you do the same. Do not speak unless spoken to, and even then I might intervene. You have been granted the Right of Parley for this meeting - that means you must also agree to grant it to others. That means no violence, no mental influences, and no poisoning. If someone else draws, you may do the same - but you must let them make the first move to strike, or the agreement is void.”

“What happens if someone breaks the agreement?” Menace asks.

“I happen.” You say flatly. "Questions?"

You leave out the times these meetings have turned into full scale brawls. You’d had to learn who could be invited and who couldn’t, and it was an ever shifting roster.

“Several.” Minerva - Naiad - says grimly, “but none, I suspect, that you would answer. Let’s get this over with.”

“Menace has been recognized as my student. Naiad, you will be a petitioner I have granted sanctuary. If anyone asks further, tell them you invoke right of privacy. They’ll still push, but it means officially they’re supposed to go to me about it as your sponsor.”

When they both nod, you gesture for them to follow you to the balcony, where the ring and rose still rest. You pick them up, and decide it’s better to show than tell.

You pull the rose free of the ring, and drop the signet to the ground. It expands, metal fluid and shifting now that it’s been triggered, but maintaining the perfect circle.

Once it stops, you step into it, and gesture for Naiad and Menace to join you. It is a little awkward - like trying to stand three people inside an oversized hula hoop - but as Tallflawes promised, doable.

“Pemberley.” You invoke - and you snap the stem of the rose.

—-

Between one blink and the next, you are there, and then you are here.

‘There’ had been a balcony in the Pacific, balmy air coming in off of the waves, the sun just past its zenith.

‘Here’ was a well-furnished room in the modern style, with one wall consisting of floor-to-ceiling windows, showing you the night sky and the distant Atlantic.

You shake your shoulders, dispelling the strange sensation teleporting always gave you.

“Pemberley?” Naiad questions. “As in-“

“Yes!” Calls a delighted voice from behind you, because Tallflawes is, after all, a villain. “A delightful choice of name for a home, isn’t it?”

You step out of the circle before you turn, letting the stem drop and tucking the rose blossom into a pocket. It gives you a moment before you have to actually address her.

“Tallflawes uses a coded system to designate transportation points.” You explain, “based, for some unfathomable reason, on primarily Gothic literature.”

You come to a stop in front of Tallflawes herself, and incline your head in a regal acknowledgment of the host for the evening.

“I’m surprised you didn’t tell them before you arrived.” She responds with a smirk.

Though Tallflawes has to look up at you to do it, she’s long since mastered the art of meeting your eyes through your helmet. Though she will occasionally wear masks in the field, here at her home, she hasn’t bothered. And though you know she’s worn a variety of ‘costumes’ over the years… she’s chosen a white pantsuit to host, marked with the shoulder-and-lapel accents of her particular technology.

You can’t help but smile, “What fun is there in explaining everything?”

You leave the question rhetorical, gesturing behind you, “Menace, my protégé, and Naiad. I take responsibility for their actions and damages, for the duration of our meeting.”

“So you have spoken,” Tallflawes replies smoothly, “So you must live. Welcome to my home, Menace, Naiad. I will not promise you peace, only a place at my table.”

It’s still strange, to hear someone else speak the ritual words. To be the visitor, instead of the host.

You feel more than see Menace and Naiad watching you - but now is not the time to respond.

“Formalities aside, Tallflawes, you never did explain the purpose of this meeting.”

She gestures for you to follow, and you fall into step beside her as she leads the way through a selection of hallways and adjoining rooms. “Why, Synovus, darling, it’s you of course.”

You’re fairly certain both of your hangers-on tense, but you are unperturbed. “Doubtful.”

“Would I lie to you, my dearest?”

“Only as much as I lie to you, dear heart.” Your tone is sardonic. Hers is not. There was a time your positions were reversed. But regardless of the tone, you know you both understand each other.

“Well, that’s only fair.” Tallflawes agrees, shrugging. “But I’d rather only go through everything once.”

You tip your head in recognition, and change the topic accordingly. “Your sense in decor hasn’t changed.”

Indeed, from the white walls of the room you’d arrived in, to the pale gray of the furniture, everything you’d passed so far had been remarkably monochromatic, with only the dark lines of supporting furniture to accentuate the lack of color.

“All the better to show the bloodstains.” Tallflawes replies serenely, as you reach a door. “Take your seat, Synovus. We’ll begin shortly.”

You know that’s not why she decorates in white, of course. Tallflawes would never spill blood in her living quarters - at least, not without having it immediately cleaned and the victimized furniture replaced.

No, Tallflawes decorates in white because it makes every guest uncomfortable. It leaves everyone who walks her halls checking surreptitiously for shoe prints in the carpet, smudges on glass, feeling as though they are an embarrassing stain in a spotless world.

And you, in your dark costume, had always been like a walking blot of ink on a white page, slinking from one part of the building to the next. You had recognized the power play for what it was, and in defiance, had actively stained something every time you visited. Spilled drinks, actual ink blots from pens. Sometimes you’d had to get creative.

But now, all of the seats for her guests, spread out in this room in a rough circle, are black.

You settle into the chair that is yours (it’s complicated to explain why you know it is yours - a combination of view of entrance and exits and decor patterns and who else is sitting where) with a practiced grace, tossing your cape over one arm of the chair and leaning against the other, legs crossing comfortably.

Menace and Naiad shuffle for a moment, before finding their places at your shoulders - likely modeling it on how Gray Gangster, across from you, has two of his enforcers at the ready.

Everyone else is alone - bar Unwritten, who this time has a small dragon in her lap, gnawing ferociously on the upholstery - except for Ibis, who sits a few seats over from you with Vulture directly beside her. It throws off the symmetry of the circle to have their chairs so close together. Tallflawes has solved this by putting herself opposite the pair, with you and Gangster on the other quarter-axis. You approve.

On your left is Dr. Wraith, the immortal with a penchant for robbing museums. You’re not sure how old she actually is, and you do know for certain that not every artifact she’s stolen under the pretense of ‘reclaiming’ has actually belonged to her at some point, but you can account firsthand for how hard she is to kill. She gives you a wintry smile.

On your right sits Unwritten, now enticing her dragon to gnaw on the tie of her robes instead of Tallflawes’ furniture. “Hello, Syn.” She calls merrily. Her clothing changes color as you watch, but she doesn’t seem to be aware of it. Perils of being a chaos mage.

Ibis, in an excess of golden jewelry, sits with her consort on Unwritten’s other side. She bares her teeth at you in what you understand as a favorable greeting, and ruffles her wings in lieu of a wave. Supposedly, she and Vulture are the most recent vessels of long dead gods. You’re not sure if that’s objectively true, but you’re hardly one to throw stones for a bit of self-aggrandizement. Or a God complex either, really.

Past Vulture, and flanking Gray Gangster, is Chanter. He raises a brow at your two guests, but nods solemnly. Where Unwritten is chaos ever-roiling, Chanter is tightly constrained. His posture is perfect, his clothing neat. The only sign of his abilities are the swirling colors in the gemstones of his necklace, and in the small pocketwatch-shaped device he keeps on a chain wrapped around one hand.

Gray Gangster themselves is as unreadable as always. They won’t speak at this meeting - you’ve only ever heard them speak once - but their enforcers will translate what they want. A traditional pin suit and fedora marks the crime boss of the North. They do not offer you a greeting.

“Heya Jim.” You call to one of the enforcers you recognize.

“Synovus,” he replies respectfully, dipping his head.

Seated on Gangster’s right, between him and Tallflawes, is a bouncing bundle of energy you know as G.P. - Galactic Prodigy.

Lanky, blue skinned, and with several tendrils that he continues to insist cannot be described as ‘tentacles’ in place of hair, Prodigy never had a chance at blending in among humans. Lucky for him, he’d never intended to.

Prodigy had been an instant splash with the hero scene - though, as one of only.. (five? Yeah you were pretty sure the number was still five, unless Astrae had had her kid) five aliens on Earth, he would’ve stood out regardless. You remembered the first time you saw an advertisement for his themed cereal.

But then the kid had realized he wanted to go home, maybe, at some point, and he’d wound up in some trouble that you’d had to haul him out of, and some people who wanted nothing more than to lock him up somewhere and study him had taken that as opportunity to brand him a traitor. And Prodigy had decided that crime was more fun anyway.

He mostly pissed off governments by stealing classified files - making sure no one else wound up where they’d wanted to put him.

And that left Tallflawes, reigning queen of the circle and host of this tenuous peace. Her chair was slightly raised on a small dais. She had a small table on which to set a champagne glass, which you knew actually held a non-alcoholic sparkling cider. As she took her seat, she did not look at anyone in particular, instead checking something on a summoned view screen.

That technology was not public access - hell, even you had only figured out a few basic components to some of what Tallflawes did. It wasn’t that she was a genius - though she was, undoubtedly - it was that she was a woman out of time.

Some indeterminate amount of time in the future (she refused to tell anyone when, exactly) Tallflawes had been grappling with a hero for different reasons. During the fight, they had both been knocked into a contraption she’d been working on with the aim of deciphering time travel. It had worked - but she hadn’t planned on it being activated yet, and certainly not as a round-trip.

So she and the hero known as ‘Blue Prophet’ were stuck in the now.

Tallflawes, disinclined to give her technology to anyone else anyway, had immediately found ways to set up shop again, and now hand-crafted most of her tech in a foundry/workshop downstairs. Prophet, she’d told you once, had nowhere near the amount of knowledge needed to do the same - so he only had what he’d brought with him.

She was rather smug about that.

You realize Menace has leaned over towards you when she murmurs, “What’s the significance of Pemberley?”

“Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen. The estate the protagonist moves to once she’s married, and proof of her suitor’s good heart and business sense.” You reply, gesturing vaguely to the area around you. “Also, in this case, definitely bugged.”

“Noted. What’s our island called, then?”

You sigh, “Thornfield. From Jane Eyre, by Emily Brontë.”

Naiad gives you an incredulous side-eye.

“What does that represent?”

“You know, Menace, I believe I have a copy at home. You can borrow it and find out yourself.”

“That doesn’t help me know what it means now, though.”

“Naiad seems to recognize it. Why doesn’t she explain?”

Naiad exhales in a near-imperceptible sigh. You realize she probably has a lot of practice at this - keeping her mouth and jaw still, if not the rest of her face. “I support you broadening your literary horizons and coming to your own conclusions.”

Menace leans further forward, “Wait, you agree with Synovus?”

“That is not what I said.”

“It is what she meant though.” You confide to one side, not quiet enough that Naiad can’t hear you.

You might’ve continued - or Menace might’ve found something else to ask about, there were certainly plenty of conversation starters in the room - except Tallflawes looked up from her screen. Recognizing the sign, you raised a hand, gently nudging Menace back into place.

“Before we begin with this meeting’s purpose.” Tallflawes calls, and her voice is clear and commanding, “Are there any relevant challenges that must be settled?”

“Nope.” Replies Prodigy. At a look from Tallflawes (and Wraith and Chanter) he sighs, and recites, “I hold no grudges with anyone here.”

One of the enforcers - Not-Jim - speaks for Gangster. Chanter gives his affirmation solemnly. Ibis uses the plural as Vulture simply nods. Unwritten mostly sticks to the script.

You go to give your oath, and pause. Athena, your rival, is standing at your shoulder. In a different name, in a different costume. Someone who hurt her child, accidentally or no, and was working to change.

The question was - did you still hold a grudge?

“Whether I hold a grudge against anyone present remains to be seen.” You settle for that, “though I give my oath that any potential grudges will not see consequence until well after this meeting’s conclusion.”

Tallflawes watches you for much too long. She nods, and turns to Dr. Wraith, who gives the standard answer.

“Aw come on,” Prodigy complains, “Why does Synovus get to give a different answer?”

“Because Synovus is retired.” You drawl, “And only here to find out what you all could possibly want.”

“The oath given was sufficient.” Tallflawes says, as though you hadn’t spoken. “Though Synovus is why we are here. We don’t have many rules - and I don’t intend to ask anyone to follow any more than we already do. But I think we all need to know a few things about your plans for retirement.”

She taps the arms of her chair, looking at you expectantly.

“I’m retiring.” You reiterate, “if you want specifics, ask for them.”

“A point of clarification before we devolve-“ Chanter puts in, leaning forward, “- Synovus, are you aware of what’s been happening in your territory since you announced your retirement?”

Awful question. Admit to ignorance, or pretend you know everything. You do neither, “Again, you’ll have to be more specific before I can answer that question.”

“He refers,” Dr. Wraith says softly, “To the small scale war breaking out between upstarts. The kind you normally put down, or intimidated too much for them to start.”

You sigh, “That is to be expected. I covered a lot of ground with several large scale cities - and it isn’t as though I had a no-interference policy.”

“And if you want to watch those cities burn, that’s your business.” Unwritten says cheerfully, “I just want to know if you’re backing anyone, so I know who to bet on.”

“What.”

Jim shrugs, “You do have a student, after all. Maybe you wanted to have them take over?” He looks towards Menace, and several others do as well.

“Though we haven’t seen her out and about - or heard much at all about her yet.” Unwritten agrees, peering closer.

“An apprentice succeeding the master is only natural.” Chanter points out.

“Menace is under my tutelage - but she is not my pawn.” You say coldly, straightening from your lounged position. “If she wishes to take my place, that will be her affair.”

“Do you?” Asks Tallflawes, and she is no longer looking at you.

Menace, to her immense credit, doesn’t fidget under the gaze of so many monsters from her bedtime stories. “I have no plans to do so at this time.”

Dr. Wraith laughs, in a sign of approval. “Inherited Synovus’s tongue, if nothing else.”

You give her a sharp glance that she has no way of knowing occurred, picking up on the word choice. You haven’t addressed allegations she’s your actual child, and you don’t intend to be baited into discussing it now either.

“I choose my words for myself, Dr. Wraith. My teachers deserve their credit where it is due - but do not presume I am only their creation.”

Dr. Wraith gives another cold smile, and you’d swear you can feel Naiad’s blood pressure rising.

“A warning aptly given.” Tallflawes says coolly, “And not one we are likely to forget, child. The question remains. Clarified - Synovus, do you name a successor to your territory?”

“I do not.”

“What about your rivals?” Prodigy asks, having folded his legs up underneath him.

You are still.

“Athena and her Legionnaire.” Ibis hums, “I do not believe she is like us… but I would like to find out.”

“Bit difficult, given Legionnaire’s dropped off the map.” Not-Jim says.

Unwritten shrugs, balancing her dragon on one hand as it tried to climb on top of her head, “It never made sense to me that they were your rivals anyway, Synovus, so you know I’m in favor.”

“Dazzler or White Shadow would’ve been more thematic.” That’s Chanter, and you’re reminded why you’ve never liked him.

“This is an old conversation.” Dr. Wraith puts in, “the point is, if Synovus is retired, they may no longer claim the Right of Rivalry against the heroes Athena and Legionnaire.”

“Point of clarification.” Asks a voice from over your shoulder, and you tense as Naiad continues, “Define the Right of Rivalry?”

Chanter, again, “Your patron is the one who penned the Right. You do not know?”

Tallflawes’ eyes do not narrow, but you do feel them weighing on you.

Prodigy speaks before she can, “Hey, it took me forever to learn these things, no harm in wanting to know for sure.”

He looks at Naiad, and you wonder if they have met before. If he will know her, beneath the mask. You should have asked. You didn’t.

“Basically, no one is supposed to kill someone else’s rival, or go out of their way to fuck them over. There’s a whole lot of wiggle room if one of them comes after you or someone changes territories, or something happens, but it’s our way of calling dibs.”

Chanter remarks disdainfully, “Synovus has broken the Right before, of course.”

You force yourself to relax back into your chair. “Point of contention.” You say, as though bored, “The case of death of Igneous was ruled valid, and I have settled the debt with Heathen.”

Unwritten snorts, and you hear her mutter, “flying submarine.”

“Point - both of them - acknowledged.” Tallflawes cuts in. “Synovus, do you acknowledge that you may no longer claim the Right of Rivalry?”

You are silent, for a beat. You knew this was a possibility, but to bring it up here is forcing the issue. Is someone else eager to hunt them? It would have to be someone here, powerful enough to be willing to risk your wrath -

“I claim inheritance of Synovus’s rivals.” Menace says.

Tallflawes tilts her head, “On what grounds? No more than that they were your patron’s rivals?”

You do not speak. You cannot. To do so would be seen for what it would be - a desperate attempt at a cover up.

But Menace, your menace, continues on with her own gamble. She says simply, “They are my parents.”

There is silence in the room. In that silence, you can hear Naiad’s sharp intake of breath, and the creak of Menace’s gloves as she tightens her grip, hands clasped behind her back. You know how far it is to the nearest window and how everyone here will begin if it turns to violence. Shadows begin to knot, unseen, under your palms.

And then Gray Gangster laughs. Chuckles, really. It’s rough, and unsettling, and sounds like something from a graveyard had dragged its way up to sit in this room and mock you. He claps, slowly, exactly three times, as his enforcers watch him intently.

Not-Jim looks up, at you. “He congratulates you, Synovus.” They say neutrally, “On going above and beyond his expectations for your agreement. He will support Menace’s claim.”

With that declaration, the spell of silence is broken. Ibis and Vulture mutter to each other, speculative, while Chanter slowly nods. Dr. Wraith is staring at Menace, calculative, and tsks in a way that might indicate sympathy. Tallflawes cuts a glance towards Prodigy. Prodigy gives a bewildered shrug.

“We acknowledge Menace’s claim to the Right of Rivalry with Athena and Legionnaire. Are there any other matters of business we must address?”

The meeting continues - but no one in your party speaks again.

—-

It’s only after you teleport all three of you back to the island (crushing the rose blossom in your palm with a terse ‘Thornfield’) that you expect the dam to break.

You are braced for it, prepared, waiting for the accusations and demands and questions. You stand on your balcony, letting the warm wind whip past you, and you wait for them to begin.

But Menace leaves first, stepping off the balcony railing and into the air to soar straight up, far away from both you and her mother. She leaves without a word.

Naiad - Athena, Minerva - is almost worse. She pulls off her mask, as the two of you watch Menace’s outline grow smaller. She watches her daughter fly away, and says softly, “Well. You did warn me you were a liar, Synovus.”

She leaves her mask on the railing, right where the ring and rose were earlier, and turns to leave. It is her parting shot that hurts more;

“More the fool, I.”

And you can only stand and stare at the starlight, alone.

[Do not fear! There will be a (at least slightly) happier conclusion - but this does mean instead of a two-parter, you all will be waiting on a part three. See you then!]

#synovus #synoverse #Villains Never Retire #consequences? for my actions? #oh Synovus it’s more likely than you think

[nerdzzone]

Temptations, Teasing, and the Ticking of Time

Summary: New Year’s Eve is a time that stirs up many different emotions - some find it overrated or disappointing while others find it inspiring and a chance for a new start - but after getting dragged to a party and hatching a plan, the one thing Madeline knows for sure is that her 2015 is going to get off to an unforgettable start.

Part of the Back To You series

-----

December 31 2014

While the week between Christmas and New Years Eve was commonly thought of as some kind of purgatory, it was one of Madeline’s favourite times. She loved Christmas and the chaos of everyone being together again, but with December being such a busy time as she rehearsed and then performed whatever show the ballet had picked that year - usually the Nutcracker - while also trying to buy presents and coordinate her journey home, it was nice to have a week with practically nothing to do.

It was also one of the few weeks of the year when Chris usually had no commitments, projects to film or meetings to attend which meant they got plenty of uninterrupted quality time together. They’d spent almost the entire week inside the comfort of their home, only leaving for the occasional walk or to pick up some takeout for dinner and they soaked up the time to reconnect.

“I feel sick,” Madeline groaned, dropping the empty bowl she’d been holding on to the floor beside the couch. “You shouldn’t have let me eat all that popcorn by myself.”

The credits rolled on the movie they’d been watching and Chris chuckled as he massaged her feet that were resting in his lap. It was a habit he’d developed whenever they were lounging around and Madeline began to wonder how she’d ever survived as a dancer for so many years without his services. She was used to the daily aches and pains of dancing for hours at a time, but the relief she’d found every time he pressed his fingers into the tight muscles and ligaments of her feet was something she knew she would miss when he went back to work.

“I learned a long time ago that I can’t stop you from doing anything that you want to do.”

“Yeah, but when you at least try then the threat of your ‘I told you so’ usually slows me down at least a little bit.”

“Does it?”

Chris shot her a skpetical look and Madeline couldn’t help but smile.

“Sometimes,” she shrugged. “It’s still worth a try.”

Chris teasingly shook his head as Madeline picked up the remote, returning to the Netflix home screen. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Not bothering to respond, Madeline lazily skimmed through the movies on the screen, only half paying attention to what was being suggested until she realized that what she was scrolling past may as well be a collection dedicated to the man at the other end of the couch. She’d flicked by Not Another Teen Movie, Cellular, Captain America: The First Avengers, The Avengers, What’s Your Number, The Losers and Scott Pilgram vs. the World and even though Chris didn’t even seem to notice, her observation had a sudden wave of emotion flooding over her.

“Hey,” she nudged Chris with her foot to drag his attention away from the TV. “Have I told you lately how proud I am of you?”

Her question had a soft smile sliding onto Chris’ face as he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Maybe not lately, but I know you are,” he assured her. “Why? What got you thinking about that?”

“This.” Madeline gestured to the TV with the remote in her hand before flicking back through all the movies and pointing out the ones he was in. “It’s pretty amazing. You’ve worked so hard and you’re so deserving of all your success.”

It felt like an understatement - like her words really couldn’t express how much his talent and dedication impressed her - but as she noticed a slight hint of colour rising in his cheeks, she thought it was safe to assume he knew how much she meant it. Reaching out an arm towards him, she gestured for him to come closer and lifted her feet so he could swivel his body and squeeze into the space between her and the back of the couch.

“I appreciate that, Maddie,” he said as he settled beside her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder once he was comfortable. “But I think most of it is just luck and I’m sure some people would probably argue that some of those movies were more bad luck than good.”

“What are you talking about?” Madeline asked as she reached up a hand to run her fingers through his hair. “I like all your movies.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say, but I can admit they’re not all masterpieces. Not Another Teen Movie wasn’t exactly a shining moment in my career.”

“I dunno if I agree with that,” Madeline protested. “Those whipped cream scenes got me through plenty of lonely nights.”

It was a new little tidbit of information that she was sharing and it quickly sparked Chris’ interest.

“Oh yeah? When was that?”

“When it first came out. I was young, pining away for you and desperate - I think I went into shock for a couple days after I saw it for the first time.”

“Really?” Chris asked as he shot her a smirk. “How old were you when that movie came out? Seventeen?”

“Yep, and it was way too much for my little virgin brain to handle,” she admitted, earning a bark of laughter from Chris that had her giggling along with him. “Seriously, I had to go lay down after I saw it. It was too much for me.”

“Well then, you must have had a heart attack when you saw the first Captain America movie,” Chris mused. “That scene when I ‘transform’ from scrawny Steve into my real chiseled self.”

There was a smugness to his voice and Madeline rolled her eyes as she attempted to keep his ego in check.

“Nah, I was over it by that point,” she informed him. “We were together by then and your ‘chiseled’ body was old news to me.”

“Oh, gee, thanks,” Chris huffed. “Good to know I don’t impress you anymore.”

There was a teasing edge to his voice, but Madeline was quick to reassure him.

“That’s not what I said. I’m always impressed by you, but your muscles aren’t such a shock to me on screen when I get my own private shows every night.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Chris agreed. “But I will say that it’s still not great if my body is the best thing about some of my movies.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” Madeline shrugged with a smile. “But there’s lots to love about most of your movies. Maybe we should do a Chris Evans movie marathon tonight. We can go through every movie you’ve ever made and I can tell you why I love each and every one.”

“Oh yeah, cringing at my own bad performances all night sounds like a great time,” Chris scoffed, his words dripping with sarcasm. “But fortunately, we don’t have time for that. We’ve got Anna’s party, remember?”

The reminder of their plans had Madeline wrinkling her nose in displeasure. She hadn’t remembered and the thought of leaving their little bubble of comfort where Chris was cuddled into her side was entirely unappealing. She loved Chris’ friends and she knew he was excited to see them, but socializing after their week of solitude seemed like too much of a hassle and she always felt that New Year's Eve was notorious for being overhyped.

“Do we have to go?” She asked. “Can we stay here if I promise not to make you watch all your movies?”

“Yes, we have to go,” Chris insisted. “I told her we’d be there and everyone’s been givin’ me grief all week for being such a recluse, we need to go out before we go stir crazy.”

Hoping to win him over, Madeline scratched her fingers lightly against his scalp in the way that she knew would draw a purr of comfort from his lips.

“Spending time with you is my favourite thing, I could stay here forever and never go crazy.”

“Nice try,” Chris smiled as he lifted his head to look at her. “I’m surprised you made it this long, usually you can barely sit still long enough to get through a movie.”

“That’s because I’m so used to dancing all day and burning off all my energy,” she pointed out. “But being with you keeps me grounded, I could stay like this forever.”

While she did have ulterior motives, her words were very much true. It was hard for her to take a day off and be lazy when she spent so much of her time being very physically active, but spending time with Chris the way she had during their little break really did help her relax. However, while Chris knew that there was a sincerity to her words, he wasn’t about to fall for her manipulation as he pushed himself up and out of her grasp.

“I could stay here forever too,” he assured her, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips before climbing off the couch completely. “But we can come right back and spend all day here again tomorrow.”

Madeline whined, but Chris simply let out a laugh at her lack of enthusiasm and grabbed her hands to pull her up to her feet.

“It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“I know,” Madeline sighed, accepting defeat as she leaned against his chest. “I guess I should go make myself look pretty.”

“You always look pretty, no effort required for that part.”

“Yeah?” Madeline smiled, moving out of his arms and gesturing to her sweatpants and messy bun. “You think I could show up like this?”

“I wouldn’t care,” Chris shrugged. “But you might be a little underdressed.”

“That’s true. What time are we leaving? How long do I have?”

“About an hour and a half,” Chris told her after a quick glance at his watch. “Scott’s going too so he said he’d pick us up and drive us over.”

After nodding to acknowledge that she’d heard the answer, Madeline stretched to shake off the stiffness of laying on the couch all day and dragged herself towards their bedroom to get ready.

-

The sound of a long, low whistle from the doorway had Madeline pulling her attention off of her reflection in the mirror and turning to face Chris as she slipped the back onto her earring.

“You’re pretty dressed up for someone who didn’t even want to go out tonight.”

Madeline smiled as she smoothed down the front of the black dress she was wearing. It was short and it was tight, covering enough to keep it classy but not enough to prevent Chris’ mind from drifting to thoughts of the soft skin and curves that remained covered.

“Well, if we’re going then I have to put in a little effort,” she shrugged. “Do I look okay?”

The soft smirk on her face had Chris suspecting that she knew exactly how good she looked, but he was powerless to resist her fishing for a compliment.

“You look gorgeous,” he assured her as he crossed the room and slid an arm around her waist. “In fact, you look so gorgeous that I’m starting to regret our decision. Maybe we should just stay home…”

Madeline leaned into his touch as she let her arms slide around his neck and let out a questioning hum.

“Our decision? I think you mean your decision, my decision was to stay home.”

“That’s true,” Chris nodded. “But I’m not too proud to admit that I was wrong.”

“Well, what a shame that you didn’t have that little realization earlier,” Madeline smirked. “Because now that I’m all dressed up, it would be a waste of my outfit if we just stayed home.”

Chris dipped his head to hover his lips above hers as he let his hand wander down to her hips and pull them close against his own.

“I don’t think it would be a waste at all,” he insisted. “In fact, I think that dress would look even better on the floor than it does on you.”

He knew what he was doing and his deep, enticing voice sent a tingle down Madeline’s spine that had her powerless to resist as he moved forward to capture her in a searing kiss. His ferocity had her tightening her grip to keep herself steady, but as he tried to deepen the kiss even further, Madeline felt a momentary clarity in the fog of her brain and found the strength to wiggle out of his grasp.

“No,” she said firmly, pointing her finger at him warningly. “You made it very clear that we have to go to this party so don’t try to distract me now with your cheesy lines and sultry voice!”

“I’m not tryin’ anything.'' Chris shrugged in an entirely unconvincing attempt at seeming innocent. “It’s not my fault that you’ve made yourself look so irresistible.”

“It is your fault actually because you’re the one who wanted to go out,” Madeline reminded him, moving towards the closet and plucking a pair of strappy silver heels off the top of the shoe rack. “And now we don’t have time for any of those kinds of shenanigans.”

When she’d selected her outfit for the night, payback had been on her mind - if Chris was going to drag her to a party then she was going to make him regret it - and she was disappointed by how quickly he’d managed to regain the upper hand with a few sweet words and a steamy kiss. However, getting Chris worked up was one of her best talents. She was determined to not be so easily beaten and knew his weaknesses well so - desperate to get her plan back on track - Madeline made sure her back was still facing Chris as she bent at the waist to slip on her shoes.

She could feel his eyes burning into her as her position had the dress pulling tightly against the curve of her ass with the hem sliding dangerously high at the top of her thighs. It was a double edged sword as the choked groan she heard from the other side of the room was enough to have her nearly exposed underwear growing damp, but she tried to keep her composure and an air of nonchalance as she finished the task at hand and straightened her back once again.

“Are you going to get changed?” She surprised herself with the cool even tone she achieved as she pulled the dress back down to a more respectable length. “You should hurry if you are, Scott will probably be here any minute.”

Knowing her words were true, Madeline didn’t wait for a response before leaving the room. She knew she’d need a moment to compose herself before Scott arrived, but as she made it to the kitchen and tossed back a cold glass of water to take the edge off, she knew that the little game that she’d started would make for a very interesting night.

-

As reluctant as Madeline was to attend the party that night, she had to admit that it was the right choice. With everyone busy with their own lives and families, the group didn’t get as many opportunities to get together as they used to when they were younger and when they did manage to reunite, it was always a special time. She also knew how much it meant to Chris to be able to let loose and relax in an environment where he knew that he didn’t have to be on guard for cameras sneaking pictures or watch every word that came out of his mouth. The way he lit up as soon as they walked into Anna’s house made all the hassle of dragging herself off the couch and getting ready worth it.

She followed Chris to the kitchen where they dropped off their contribution to the communal drink pile and helped themselves to a beverage - beer for Chris and a generously portioned gin and tonic for Madeline - but as Chris fell into a conversation with his friend Mark, Madeline wandered off in search of their hostess.

It wasn’t as easy a task as she’d expected as the cozy little house was filled with about thirty people and almost all of them interrupted her mission to say hello and ask how she was doing, but eventually Madeline tracked Anna down by the stereo she was using as a DJ booth.

“Madeline, hi!” she grinned, wrapping Madeline in a hug as soon as she noticed her. “I’m so glad you guys made it!”

“Me too,” Madeline matched her smile. “It’s been way too long.”

“It really has, I don’t think I’ve seen you since before I was engaged.”

“That’s true,” Madeline nodded, her eyes lighting up as another thought struck her. “Show me your ring! I haven’t seen it in person yet!”

Beaming proudly, Anna eagerly held her hand in front of Madeline’s face.

“Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous,” Madeline gushed. “Did you pick it out?”

“Nope, Gavin chose it all by himself. We’d had a few conversations in the past, enough to give him an idea of what I might like, but he picked it out.”

“Well, he did great!”

“He did, didn’t he?” Another voice cut in, drawing Madeline and Anna’s attention towards Mark’s wife, Alissa, as she joined their conversation. “Maybe he could give Chris a few tips.”

She shot Madeline a wink that earned her a laugh at the comment, but Anna’s eyes lit up.

“He must be thinking about it,” she mused. “You two have been together for so long now.”

“We already feel like an old married couple sometimes,” Madeline joked, but she shrugged her shoulders as she sipped her drink. “We aren’t in a big rush though. We talk about it every now and then, but Chris is so busy with Marvel and trying to fit in all the other projects he wants to work on, it would be hard to fit in a wedding too.”

“That’s a very good point,” Anna conceded as she nodded in agreement. “Planning a wedding is way more time consuming than I thought it would be.”

“Has it been really hard?”

“It’s been way harder than I expected,” Anna admitted. “There’s just so many things to keep track of and so many opinions to coordinate. Every time I think I’ve got things under control, someone points out another five things that I haven’t even thought of.”

Her answer had Madeline feeling a pang of guilt. While Anna had been Chris’ friend first, they’d always been close and she felt bad for not being more available to help with the wedding planning process.

“Well, I’ll be free for most of January if there’s anything I can help you with…”

“Thanks,” Anna smiled. “I should be okay, but I’ll keep it in mind. Honestly though, with a job like yours, you’d need to take at least a year off if you were trying to plan a wedding. No one tells you how hard it is.”

Just the thought of being forced to take that much time away from her career as she was finally really hitting her stride had Madeline’s stomach turning, but - as it wasn’t an imminent issue - she pushed the idea from her mind and kept the smile on her face.

“That’s why we’re not in a rush,” she informed them. “We’re happy with how things are now. It would be nice to get married, but I already know that Chris is the person I’m meant to be with and we’re in a good place right now with things just the way they are.”

“I still can’t believe how long it took you two to figure things out,” Alissa smiled, shaking her head. “I remember when Mark and I first started dating and I met you and Chris at a party, I spent the whole night thinking that you were a couple and I didn’t believe Mark when he told me that you weren’t. I thought he was pranking me until Chris started dating someone else.”

“It was always obvious to everyone, but them,” Anna agreed, playfully rolling her eyes. “I’ve probably told you both this story before, but when I went to my first Evans party when I was like fifteen, I asked him how long he’d been in love with you. He got so mad and said I was gross because you were ‘just a kid’ but Lisa gave me a look and I knew that I was right.”

“Everyone always says that, but I’m not sure it’s true,” Madeline mused with a soft smile. “I mean, I was head over heels for him for as long as I can remember, but he always says he didn’t realize how he felt until right before he told me.”

“Just because he didn’t realize doesn’t mean he didn’t feel that way,” Alissa pointed out. “He’s loved you as long as I’ve known him and I would bet money on that.”

They’d discussed it many times over the years, but Madeline had always remained skeptical. She’d spent so many years searching for any sign of affection from him that went beyond anything brotherly and it was hard for her to believe that it had been so obvious to everyone else when she’d never seen it. However, she knew how much he loved her now and a soft smile slid onto her face as she caught sight of him across the room.

Probably inspired by her own enticing outfit, Chris had dressed up for the occasion. Anna had been clear that she wanted everyone to put a little effort in, but Chris had gone above and beyond. Not that it took much effort for him to look good with his Captain America muscles lingering under the cover of a slightly too tight shirt. Madeline had no doubts that he’d picked one a size too small just to make her sweat all night, but she had no shame in admitting that it worked. Chris was an incredibly beautiful man and she struggled to believe that he was all hers.

“See, look at that,” Alissa’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Look at how she’s looking at him, after all this time she’s still smitten.”

“Or horny,” Anna giggled, her already tipsy state encouraging a little extra honesty. “I know that look and it looks like more than just a look of love to me.”

Madeline’s cheeks burned from being caught, but knowing that any denial would result in more teasing, she limited her response to a simple murmured ‘shut up’ as she tossed back the last of her drink. Excusing herself under the guise of needing to top up her cup, Madeline slipped away from the conversation as her mind wandered to the many schemes she’d thought up on the way to the party. Her payback wasn’t going to be limited to just her flattering outfit - she had many ideas of how to make Chris regret being so determined to leave the house - and she was eager to get started on her revenge.

Mastering the art of discretion and managing to go unnoticed by everyone except Chris, she spent the rest of the evening splitting her time between socialising and catching up with their old friends and driving him wild.

Every chance she got, she found a way to tease him. From subtle things like standing a little too close and stretching up to whisper naughty things in his ear to bolder moves like sitting on his lap when there was conveniently no other chair - wiggling as she tried to get comfortable, just for good measure - and asking for a sip of his beer just to spend a little too long sucking on the neck of the bottle. Chris played it very cool - limiting his reactions to a raised eyebrow, a slight groan or the occasional whispered warning if she got under his skin enough - and his restraint had her wondering if perhaps her tactics were a tad too subtle.

However, after sneaking off to the bathroom just before midnight, Madeline had one more unignorable trick up her sleeve. The exciting naughtiness of what she was about to do had her heart beating just a little bit faster in her chest as she tracked him down and politely interrupted his conversation before pulling him away from the group he was talking to.

“I’ve got something for you,” she told him, feeling the nerves bubble up inside her as Chris raised a curious eyebrow.

“A present?”

“Sorta…”

Madeline flashed him a smirk before slipping her hand into his and passing him the panties that she’d removed in the bathroom. It took him a moment to realize what she’d done, but Madeline could see his eyes widen when he figured it out. The needy groan that fell from his lips had them both grateful for the volume of the music, but as Chris slipped her underwear into his pocket and tossed back the last of his beer, the look on his face told Madeline that she was in trouble.

“Let’s go,” Chris demanded. “We’re leaving.”

“What?” Madeline giggled. “We can’t go now, it’s almost time for the countdown.”

She could see Chris’ jaw clench as he mulled over their options until he gave her a curt nod.

“Okay, we’ll stay for a few more minutes,” he agreed. “But be careful, Madeline, or I’ll put you over my lap here in front of everyone.”

His words sent a flash of arousal through her and had her knees suddenly feeling weak, but she managed to regain her composure enough to reply.

“Oh, Chris, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Shooting him a wink, Madeline scurried away before he had time to respond to her comment. She felt like she was on fire as she buzzed with anticipation, but she tried to reign in her excitement to avoid catching too much attention. In an attempt to distract herself, she tracked down Anna who was frantically - and very sloppily - filling up champagne flutes for everyone to have at midnight.

“Here, let me help,” Madeline smiled, picking up a bottle off the counter as she steadied the slight shake of her hand. “Why don’t I pour and you can hand them out?”

Anna happily accepted her support and having a task to keep her occupied helped take Madeline’s mind off of the situation that she’d gotten herself into, but once all the drinks were handed out and everyone gathered in front of the TV to watch the ball drop, Madeline couldn’t escape Chris any longer as he slid an arm around her waist. She flashed him an innocent smile as they counted down with all their friends, but the way he captured her lips as the sounds of ‘Happy New Year’ echoed around them had Madeline feeling very confident that their 2015 would be starting off with quite a bang.

-

Chris was reluctant to let Madeline out of his sight after the excitement of the new year beginning had calmed down. The party was still in full swing, but neither of them had much appetite left for anything but each other and it only took half an hour for Chris to lose any semblance of patience as the underwear that was burning a hole in his pocket had him tightening his grip on Madeline and demanding that they make an exit. She agreed, but couldn’t resist teasing him just a little bit more as she took her time going around the room and making sure that she said goodbye to each and every one of their friends. Chris found himself grateful for his many years of acting experience - using it to hide his displeasure at the delay - but he dragged her out the door as soon as she finished her performance.

The ride home was almost completely silent - something Madeline assumed was mostly out of respect for their uber driver - but she was surprised when they got home and the silence continued. She hung up her coat and followed Chris down the hall to their bedroom, but as he shrugged off the blazer he was wearing and let out a sigh, Madeline wondered briefly if she’d taken things too far.

“Are you okay?”

Her tentative question pulled Chris’ gaze up to meet hers and the fire in his eyes was reassuring before he even spoke.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’m just trying to figure out what I should do with you.”

“Oh,” Madeline bit back a smile as she slipped off her shoes. “Well, I can think of a few suggestions.”

The sound of Chris’ deep chuckle filled her ears, but the dark edge to it had her anticipation rising again.

“I’m sure you can,” he nodded. “But after how you’ve behaved all night, I think you might need to be taught a lesson first.”

“Like a spanking?”

Madeline tried to keep the hopeful edge out of her voice, but as Chris smirked and shook his head, it was clear that he was onto her.

“As you pointed out earlier, I’m not sure that would be much of a punishment for you anymore.”

“I don’t think I need a punishment,” Madeline argued, although they both knew it was half-hearted. “I was just having a little fun…”

“Oh, c’mon,” Chris rolled his eyes, moving his hand to his back pocket to pull out his evidence. “Handing me your fuckin’ panties in the middle of a room full of my friends is more than a little fun! You were deliberately teasing me all night!”

As Madeline thought back to the look on his face when he’d realized what she was handing him, she couldn’t hold back the giggle that slipped from her lips. She saw a flicker of a smirk on Chris’ face too, but he held it together as he let her underwear fall onto the floor.

“Oh, you think it’s funny, do you?” He asked, not waiting for her to answer before he continued. “Well, let’s see if you’re still laughing by the time I’m done with you. Take off your clothes.”

His request caught Madeline off guard and she hesitated slightly.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he insisted. “Strip.”

He crossed his arm as he repeated the demand, but Madeline’s stubbornness was still bubbling to the surface.

“Please,” she reminded him. “It’s important to say ‘please’.”

She waited, but the only further response was a stern raise of his eyebrow and Madeline found herself powerless to resist. It was entertaining to wind him up and she had no doubt that she would enjoy whatever consequences he was about to dole out, but she had a feeling that she’d pushed him far enough already and didn’t want to test her luck.

Reaching up to slowly pull down her zipper, she did her best to pull the tight dress up over her head in a seductive way, but a blush quickly covered her cheeks as she realized that her underwear was already laying on the floor by Chris’ feet. She let the dress fall down beside her before lifting her hands to the clasp of her bra - leaving her completely exposed to him - and although she did her best to feign confidence, there was always something about being naked when Chris was not that left her feeling particularly vulnerable. The smirk on his face as his eyes raked over her body told her that perhaps that was his intention.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he praised her as he made his way across the room until he was close enough for his warm hand slid around her bare waist, sending a shiver tingling down Madeline’s spine. “You don’t need to work so hard to get me turned on, just seeing you like this is enough for me.”

“I know,” Madeline admitted as she leaned into his chest. “But it’s kinda fun to watch you squirm…”

“Well, now I think you owe me a little satisfaction, don’t you think?”

Madeline nodded eagerly as she stretched up to press her lips against his neck. The feel of his clothing against her skin was a clear reminder of who was in control, but the way his hands slid to her ass to pull her hips against the hardening in his pants had Madeline feeling very pleased with her efforts that evening. She continued licking and sucking at his skin as she gently rocked against him, but it didn’t take long for Chris’ grip to tighten before he pushed her away.

She was surprised by the sudden movement, but as his hands went to the buckle of his belt, she realized what he wanted and a smile slid onto her face.

“Get on your knees,” he instructed, his voice raspier as his arousal grew. He waited until she did as he requested and she watched as he pushed down his pants enough to start gently stroking himself. “I was debating just tying you up and making you watch me deal with the problem myself, but I think you should probably put in a little effort.”

The thought of not being able to finish what she’d started filled Madeline with dread and she moved quickly towards him before he could change his mind.

There was something about kneeling in front of him that she’d always loved, but doing it while she was naked and he hadn’t even bothered to undress had Madeline burning with desire. Her need to tease him was shifting into a need to please him and she eagerly took him in her hand, revelling in the feel of his soft skin. 

She stroked him a few times to make sure he was nice and ready for her before leaning forward to trace her tongue along his length and taking him into her mouth. The groan that left his mouth spurred her on as she let him slide over her tongue, but as his hand moved to grip the back of her head, the wetness growing between her legs became almost unignorable. She stayed focused on the task at hand as she hollowed her cheeks and slowly bobbed her head, but as she let her free hand drift down to between her thighs, she felt her head jerk backwards and as her gaze was forced up to meet Chris��� the smug look in his eyes had a whimper falling from her lips.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” He waited for her to whine out a reluctant ‘no’ before he continued. “Then keep your hands where I can see them or I’ll have to tie them behind your back.”

It almost pained her to do so, but she did as he instructed and moved her hand, settling for rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to get some friction. The lack of relief that action gave her increased her urgency, but it appeared that Chris was losing his composure as well. He waited for her lips to wrap around him again before thrusting his hips towards her and forcing himself towards the back of her throat. The unexpected action had her gagging slightly, but Chris mercifully stilled as she adjusted.

“You good, baby?”

She nodded as best she could despite the watering of her eyes and once Chris was sure she was okay, he continued the movement of his hips. The grip in her hair was tight and the snap of his hips was sharp, but Madeline soaked up every moment of it. 

She knew it wasn’t something that everyone would understand, but there was a comfort she found in Chris really taking control. Her training, rehearsals and performances required a high level of self-discipline - she had to be incredibly focused throughout almost every day of her life because letting her concentration slip was putting herself at risk for serious, career ending injury - so she savoured every opportunity she was given to let go and let someone else call the shots for a while. She also relished in the trust it took to let Chris have his way with her. She knew that he’d never push her too far or cross any line that she wasn’t okay with and the intimacy that closeness created only added to her pleasure.  

That knowledge was what helped her stay calm as he fucked into her mouth at a steady pace. There was a constant stream of curses and encouragement falling from his lips, but as he let out a strangled groan and tightened his grip in her hair even more, Madeline knew he was close.

“Fuck, Maddie,” he growled. “You’re takin’ me so well, your mouth feels so good.”

His words had Madeline letting out a hum of pride and the effect it had on Chris was immediate. His hips stuttered just briefly, giving her a chance to stroke her tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. The sensation had him thrusting forward just a few more quick times before he choked out a warning and spilled in her mouth.

He tensed - pulling Madeline’s head slightly away from him as she swallowed - but as the pleasure of his release started to wane, he relaxed his grip and moved his hand allowing Madeline to let him fall completely out of her mouth. The need for relief had Madeline wanting to spring to her feet and push Chris onto the bed, but her desire to follow his instructions had her staying on her knees, resting back on her heels and looking up at him until he flashed her a smirk and took a moment to pull his pants back up before holding out a hand to help her to her feet.

She felt a flash of disappointment that he’d chosen to keep his clothes on, but she forced back a pout as he pulled her into his arms.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmured into her hair. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

The rumble of his voice had Madeline lifting her head from his chest to flash him her best puppy dog eyes.

“Amazing enough for you to fuck me now?”

He chuckled at her brazen request, but the look in his eyes told Madeline that he wasn’t done with her yet.

“I dunno,” he mused. “You teased me for hours tonight. Hardly seems fair that you only have to suffer for a few minutes…”

“Chris…” Madeline wasn’t proud of the whiny way his name fell from her lips, but after the evening of teasing and the build up of what they’d just done, the thought of waiting any longer made her want to cry. “You just said that I did a good job, I think I’ve made up for it.”

Chris took a moment to contemplate her argument before he reluctantly nodded and slipped out of her grasp so he could lead her to the bed, but Madeline should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy.

After waiting for her to lay down, Chris followed but kept some distance between them as he laid on his side next to her. Madeline frowned and reached for his shirt in an attempt to pull him on top of her, but he simply chuckled in response as he let his hand slide over the soft skin of her stomach and leaned down to press his lips against hers in a brief kiss.

“Patience…”

Another whine slipped from Madeline’s lips, but the feeling of his hands on her was enough of a distraction to keep her from voicing the desperation that she was feeling. She let a hand slip behind his neck to pull him back down for another kiss and was relieved when he didn’t resist or scold her for taking initiative as the simple sensation of his lips against hers was almost enough to push her over the edge. She was so tightly wound after the build up of all her teasing and the pleasure of pleasing him that she felt like she was about to explode as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, but that feeling was nothing compared to what she felt when his hand finally drifted down to the inside of her thigh. Her breath hitched as the suspense bubbled through her body and she was relieved when he didn’t make her wait very long before his hand moved a little higher and settled between her legs.

Unable to focus on anything else, Madeline’s head fell back against the pillow as Chris’ fingers just barely ghosting over the sensitive area had a moan falling from her lips. Her eyes scrunched shut as she pressed her hips up to encourage Chris to increase the friction and when he did as she’d silently requested and she opened her eyes again, the smirk on his face pulled another whimper from her.

“Is that what you wanted?” He asked, pressing his thumb against the little bundle of nerves that had been screaming for his attention as he slid a couple fingers inside her. “God, you’re so wet. Looks like all the teasing backfired, you’re more of a mess than I ever was…”

Madeline wanted to argue that claim - to point out that the way he reacted when she’d handed him her underwear showed that he had been just as worked up as she was - but she didn’t want to say anything that would take his focus away from what he was doing and the way that he curled his fingers quickly cleared her mind of any protests. She gasped and bucked her hips as she felt herself climbing towards her peak already, but as she tightened her grip on his shirt and moaned out his name, she suddenly felt his hand pull away.

The shock had her letting out a strangled cry as she felt herself twitching, her body itching for a release.

“Chris!” She groaned. “I was so close!”

“I know,” Chris smirked. “But I’m not sure you’ve earned that yet…”

“I have,” Madeline protested. “Please, Chris. I need it. I need you!”

Her begging only deepened the gratified look on his face.

“Should’ve thought of that before you spent the whole night driving me crazy.”

“That’s not fair,” she whimpered, but as she noticed that despite his previous orgasm his pants were already growing quite tight, she tried a different tactic. “Don’t you wanna fuck me? Don’t you wanna feel me wrapped around your cock?”

“I’m feeling pretty satisfied,” Chris informed her with a shrug. “I can do this all day.”

Despite her frustration and the tension of the moment, his words had a smirk sliding onto Madeline’s face and as Chris realized what he’d said, he let out a groan.

“Don’t-”

“Wow,” Madeline giggled. “I didn’t realize I was about to fuck the real Steve Rogers.”

A quick flick of his fingers back over her clit had any hint of amusement sliding off of Madeline’s face as a moan fell from her lips.

“I don’t think you’re really in a position to be making jokes right now, sweetheart,” he pointed out. “And you’re not gonna be fuckin’ anyone if you’re not careful.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Madeline groaned as he moved his hand back to where it had been stroking the top of her thigh. “Please, Chris. I need it.”

Chris didn’t comment on her pleading and Madeline stayed quiet, worried that any further signs of her desperation would just lead Chris to drawing out the process even more. She squirmed beneath the gentle touch of his hand as she tried to slow down her heart as it raced in her chest and she felt a wave of relief when - after a few minutes - Chris slid his hand back up to touch her again.

However, the relief was short-lived as he repeated his earlier actions and stopped, once again, just before she could reach her peak. The frustration she felt almost brought tears to her eyes, but she managed to bite back any arguments as she knew from previous experience that they would be futile.

“Good girl,” Chris murmured, clearly pleased with her acceptance of the situation. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

Madeline was unconvinced - especially when his torment began to seem endless. She lost count of the number of times that he brought her tortuously close to the edge before leaving her hanging. He used his hands, his mouth, teasing her nipples relentlessly as his fingers stroked every sensitive spot he could reach. It was a game they knew well, but it didn’t usually start when Madeline was already so eager for a release and she felt like she’d never been so desperate or worked up in her life,

“Please,” she finally whimpered as yet another peak began to fade without release. While she was sure that it hadn’t been more than probably thirty minutes since his teasing began, it felt like hours and Madeline wasn’t sure she could take much more. “It hurts, Chris.”

Something in the tone of her begging must have told him that her desperation was shifting into despair or perhaps it was his own resolve beginning to crack because Chris pressed a quick and reassuring kiss to her lips before nodding and slipping from the bed. The distance between them had Madeline letting out a gentle whine of protest, but Chris ignored it as he pulled his shirt over his head and shoved down his pants with an urgency that showed just how much he was struggling too. 

By the time he was naked and crawling back over Madeline, neither of them had any restraint left. Madeline parted her legs for him with no hesitation and Chris lined himself up, sinking inside her as soon as he was close enough. The moan of pure pleasure that Madeline let out as the sensation had her arching up towards him was almost enough to finish Chris off before he’d even started, but he mustered up enough self-control to begin slowly moving his hips. It took barely more than a few seconds for Madeline’s nails to start digging into Chris’ back and he dipped his head down to her neck, nipping at the skin before trailing his lips up to ear.

“You’ve earned it, baby,” he murmured. “You can let go.”

His assurance was all Madeline needed to finally lose control as the coil that had been continuously tightening in her belly snapped and sent her flying over the edge of her release. The pleasure was blinding as she clung to Chris with his name pouring out of her mouth like a prayer. Watching her fall apart had always been one of Chris’ biggest weaknesses and the sight spurred him on even more. Lifting her leg onto his shoulder to help him get even deeper and gripping her thigh tightly for leverage, he snapped his hips at an unrelenting pace as he desperately chased his own peak. He felt Madeline relax beneath him when her pleasure began to subside, but a shift of his hips had her eyes widening again as he hit the perfect spot inside her.

Unsure whether she was still feeling the lingering waves of her first release or quickly building up to another one, Madeline pressed her hips up to meet Chris’ with every thrust, savoring the feeling that she’d been begging for . She was vaguely aware of the praise that was pouring from his lips, but she was too blissed out to pay much attention, feeling herself begin to quiver and clench around him as she lost control again. The sensation was too much for Chris to handle a second time and a few more thrusts of his hips had him following her over the edge with a deep groan of his own. His grip on her leg became bruisingly tight as he slowed his movements until they were both past their peak before leaning his forehead against her calf for a moment until he found the strength to pull out of her completely.

As he rolled onto his back beside her, he quickly pulled her into his arms as her body trembled with the intensity of her release. It wasn’t uncommon after some of their more unrestrained nights together and Chris knew how important it was to guide her through the aftermath of those moments and keep her feeling safe. Knowing she needed a close connection as she composed herself, he kept her pressed tightly to his side and mumbled assurances into her hair as he showered her with appreciative kisses until he felt her body start to calm down and relax into his embrace.

Always eager to make sure he hadn’t pushed her too far, he lazily rubbed his thumb across her shoulder as he checked in.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m good, I’m great,” she assured him, tilting her head to flash him a soft smile. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah? It wasn’t too much for you?”

“No, not at all.” She pressed her lips against his chest, hoping her affection would convince him of her sincerity before she voiced a question of her own. “Was I too much for you? I hope I didn’t annoy you with all my distractions tonight.”

“Annoy me?” Chris scoffed, making it clear just how ludicrous he found that suggestion to be. “You know I love it when you drive me wild, gives me an excuse to teach you a lesson.”

“Well, this was a lesson that I won’t forget anytime soon…”

Madeline felt a puff of laughter against her hair as Chris’ chest rumbled with a deep chuckle.

“I’m starting to think that’s part of the problem,” Chris mused. “You enjoy all the lessons a little too much.”

“No, I don’t. I take them very seriously.” It was a half-hearted lie and they both knew it. “It’s just too much fun to get you worked up.”

“I think I made it pretty clear that I feel the same about you.”

“That’s true, you definitely won today’s battle,” Madeline smiled as a wave of affection crashed over her. “I love you, Chris.”

“I love you too. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” Madeline replied. “I wonder what this year will bring.”

“Good things,” Chris confidently decided as he squeezed Madeline a little closer into his side. “I’ve got a good feeling about this year.”

The surety in his voice filled Madeline with hope that he was right - that 2015 would bring them nothing but more happiness than they’d already found - and she felt her stomach flicker with excitement as she thought of the endless possibilities for the year that stretched out ahead of them.

-

Next

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @flowery-mess @flowerjewels@hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers​ @sidepieces​ @patzammit​ @sparkledfirecracker​ @mytbel0st​ @denisemarieangelina​ @elrw24​ @findthebeautyinbreakdowns​ @trottae17 @annvail​ @rach2602​ @sarahdonald87​ @firephotogrl74​ @ourfinest-hour​ @k-evans-writes​

#chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fan fiction #back to you

[slav-every-day]

#currently undertaking a very odd and mildly illegal project #I started a tv show a few hours ago and have been skimming it for gay characters #like you do #and it isn’t until season 4 that the gay rep becomes in any way fulfilling #but the 2 characters- #(2 gay best friend comedy relief duo) #-are actually good enough that I’ve started recording their scenes from season 4 and compiling them #into what I hope will be a video i can upload onto YouTube #the twist is #the show I’m taking from #goes off of Amazon in literally 24 hours #so I have a time limit #I have no idea if I’ll have the time #or the sheer willpower #to finish this project #but wish me luck #slav #slav every day #voltron #I forgot to mention #the tv show is called Awkward. #it’s from mtv #and the 2 characters are Theo and Cole

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Shield

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 5595

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, John Walker, Emotions, Character Death, Mentions of Blood, I know people had a hard time with that last scene so please take caution because it is in this part! GIF at end is the ending scene, so be careful when you get towards the bottom! I feel like I’m forgetting some, so just know this one’s a bit more than the others.

A/N: Here it is, folks! The Part we’ve all been waiting for! It’s the longest one I’ve written so far but so much happened and I couldn’t find a better spot to end it than where the episode ended. Thank you all for being patient with me today. I know I didn’t get this out as quickly as I would’ve the past few weeks, but you guys are so awesome! Seriously! I love that you understand I do have a life and work comes first! Thank you, thank you!

This Part is a doozy, guys, and…I’m sorry? But not really. I’m SUPER excited to see where this is gonna go, especially considering Episode 5 is supposed to be the real tear jerker. I can’t believe there’s only two more episodes! I’ve grown so attached to these characters just in the past month! I’m so glad I’m able to share some of my thoughts and feelings with you guys, too! You’re honestly the best!

I’ll be doing more One Shots this week, so look for those on the Masterlist. I’m still taking requests for them, so if there’s anything you want explored about the reader and her relationships that you don’t think will be explored in this Series, just ask and I’ll try to add it to the One Shot list.

As always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading, be kind to yourself and others, enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

(I couldn’t decide on which GIF to use because there are so many good ones! Thank you Tumblr Creators!)

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“Doll…hey. Doll. C’mon, sweetheart. We gotta get moving.”

You cracked your eyes open begrudgingly, squinting up to see Bucky’s amused grin, head tilted and eyes soft. “Huh?”

He chuckled as you rubbed your eyes, confusion lifting an eyebrow. “The funeral. Zemo said we’ve gotta go if we’re gonna make it in time.”

“Wait, but…huh?”

Sniggering again at your reaction, he held up your phone. “You passed out in the middle of a chapter, sleepyhead.” He teased lightly, grabbing your hand and gently pulling you to sit upright. “It’s almost been an hour.”

You huffed tiredly, stretching and placing your feet on the floor, taking back the phone he held out to you. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You haven’t been sleeping well.” He stated, like it should’ve been obvious. “How’s your arm feeling?”

“Better than earlier. It’s just sore. That’s all.”

He studied your features for any hint of a lie. Not finding one, he nodded, holding out his hand. “Okay. But tell me if it starts bothering you.”

You placed your hand in his, marveling for a split second at how big his hands were compared to yours - something you noticed every time but still it never ceased to astound you. He tugged you up, and you looked up to meet his worried eyes, remembering his question.

“I will, Buck. Promise.”

He nodded, tilting his head towards the door. “C’mon, cuddle bug. We don’t wanna miss this.”

A groan passed your lips, but you nodded and followed Bucky out into the main room, where Sam chuckled at you from his spot at the table. “Sleeping beauty has finally awoken.”

You flipped Sam off groggily. “Are we going or not?”

“Do you wanna wake up s’more first?”

“No.” You answered the one armed brunette. “I’ll just splash some water on my face or something. I’ll be fine by the time we get there. Where’s-”

“Looking for me?”

Zemo strolled out, now dressed in that coat of his, that smug smirk on his lips. You scowled. “I wish I wasn’t.”

Sam stood up, standing subconsciously between you and Zemo. “Let’s head out.”

You nodded in agreement, shooting the Baron one more glare, before following him out the door and into the city, Bucky right besides you, shoulders brushing as if you weren’t ignoring him just hours prior.

The walk was mostly silent, a few jests between Bucky and Sam plus a couple comments from Zemo here and there. You talked about strategy, with Sam bringing up the fact that he wanted to try convincing Karli to step down. Zemo didn’t look pleased with the arrangement, but both you and Bucky relented, agreeing to let Sam at least try.

It wasn’t until you were close to your destination according to Zemo that anything exciting happened.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!”

Hell. No. 

The moment the voice registered in your brain, your jaw tightened, your teeth starting to grind together as you held back the very not nice things you wanted to say. 

“Ah! How’d you find us now?” Bucky called out, tucking you into his side protectively, and a little possessively you noted, as Walker and Hoskins came down the steps, the two groups nearing each other.

You were relieved when the subject of Zemo escaping jail went by relatively quickly, Walker latching onto the fact that you were going to talk to Karli instead of focusing on the escaped fugitive in front of him.

You very nearly punched him when he ran in front of you after Sam told him the plan, making the four of you stop in your tracks, but Bucky’s arm tightened around your shoulders, holding you in place next to him.

“You’re gonna let him do this?” Walker questioned Bucky in disbelief, self righteous judgement practically dripping from your tone. “You’re gonna let your partner walk into a room with a super soldier alone?”

Bucky’s jaw ticked. “He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.”

“And you?” Walker narrowed his eyes towards you. “I expected more from you; the last original Avenger.”

You snorted, shaking your head. He obviously didn’t know how chaotic the Avengers were. What Sam was proposing? You’d seen it a million times with Steve alone. Not considering Nat, Clint, Thor, even Bruce and Tony. All of them willing to try to negotiate before running in, bullets raining and hell rising. “First, I’m not the last original. I’m technically not even an original. Second, I trust Sam with my life and I’m standing by his decision. He’s my brother. As a soldier, I would’ve thought you understood that.”

Before he could respond, Sam stepped around Bucky. You saw the reluctance in Walker’s eyes as he admitted a temporary defeat once Hoskins agreed with Sam. The fact that he was so unwilling to try to save more lives - including Karli’s - made the truth that he wasn’t, and would never, be your Captain harden deeper into your heart.

Ignoring Walker’s confusion as you followed the little girl Zemo befriended - which was weird, you’d admit, but it was getting you closer to Karli - Bucky’s arm slipped from your shoulders, hand sliding across your back and skimming down your arm to grip your hand. Even through your jacket, you felt goosebumps erupt along his fingers’ trail.

You finally came to your destination and you let out a small breath. If everything went smoothly, this mission could finally be over and you could go home and take a bath, get take out, get out a bottle of wine, watch TV, and just relax.

What a dream.

“Hey.” You stopped Sam before he could go through the entrance of where the girl said Karli was, holding his forearm. “You want me to come with you?”

He shook his head. “I think it’ll be better if I go alone.”

You nodded, letting go without any hesitance. “Okay. Be careful.”

“Always.” And despite all you’ve been through, no matter how many times he’s followed Steve’s lead in doing something stupid, you knew he meant it. You nodded again, before he disappeared around the corner.

You leaned back against the wall, Bucky once again wrapping an arm around your shoulder now that you weren’t walking - he liked having mobility on the move, hence the reason he held your hand instead - leaning besides you and pulling you against his chest.

Ten minutes. You tried looking at Bucky’s watch, which was on the wrist of the arm around you. He noticed and turned his wrist slightly, bending his elbow more, which brought you even closer to him, showing you the time.

Giving a small sigh, you nodded slightly and dropped your head back against his bicep, your hands shoving in your pockets, one of your feet coming up to rest against the wall. Bucky shifted to your other side so he could stand in front of the doors to where Karli and Sam were, pulling you against his back, arms wrapping around your shoulders tightly.

It was a long ten minutes. You kept eyeing Walker, and you couldn’t help the anger burning through you as he held the shield in his hands. That damn shield. It wasn’t his. It would never be his. And he would never understand it. The fact that the shield didn’t make Captain America. The shield isn’t what made Steve a good man. Not even the Serum did. He already was one. Steve made the shield what it was, not the other way around.

But then you remembered a conversation you had, years ago, and your eyes flitted up to Bucky’s hardened face, the brunette staring intensely at the ground.

~

You didn’t get it. You were confused. You knew how important Barnes - Bucky - was to Steve. But apparently you didn’t understand it quite yet.

You watched from the entrance of the hallway, leaning against the wall, as Bucky went under once more.

Steve stood there for a moment longer, before turning and walking towards you. “Why’d you do it?”

He raised an eyebrow at you while you turned to walk with him down the hall. “Do what?”

“Give up the shield. And don’t say it doesn’t belong to you. It does. Howard gave it to you. You’re the reason it’s…a symbol.”

He hummed. “And what exactly is it a symbol for, honey?”

You scoffed. “Uh, freedom? Justice? Resilience? The defense of the whole life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness thing?”

He stopped, facing you with a strange expression on his face, thoughtful. “I dropped it because I can’t be that anymore. Not right now. People don’t have the same beliefs they used to have. How can I stand up for freedom and let the Sokovia Accords track every person they deem a threat, just like HYDRA tried doing? How can I be a symbol for justice and let Bucky take the fall for something that he wasn’t in control of? I can’t. And until the world is ready to change…I can’t be Captain America.”

~

And suddenly, it seemed to click. Steve gave up the shield for Bucky because the world wasn’t ready to admit it was wrong. Just like Sam gave up the shield for himself and his family because the world wasn’t ready for the truth that would come with him becoming Captain America.

God…when did a metal circle become so complicated?

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty lil’ head’a yours?” His whisper in your ear startled you out of your thoughts, his nose brushing against your temple tenderly as he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek.

You looked up at him and shook your head. Of all the things Steve gave up, he never gave up Bucky. And it used to confuse you, but you understood then. His blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and slight concern, his fingers tracing patterns along your collarbone with a barely-there touch that was so light it didn’t seem to exist. You finally understood. Not just Steve’s decision, but Sam’s too. And maybe you didn’t understand it fully, and that was okay, because you weren’t them, so you never would, but you understood a little bit.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, keeping your voice down so the others couldn’t hear, the conversation being a private one, “I’m just waiting for this to be over.”

He hummed, nodding in agreement, setting his chin on your head. “Me too.”

Walker started pacing the room about half way through, getting too antsy for your liking. “Shhh.” Bucky mumbled under his breath, feeling you tense as Walker started talking. “It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.” Bucky stated confidently, straightening slightly from his leaning position, arms falling from your form. The two of you exchanged glances as Walker checked the clock over on the far wall, blocked from your view.

“I’m going in.” Walker strode across the room, heading for the entrance, no doubt willing to steam roll anything - anyone - in his way.

Bucky stopped him with a hand on his chest. You glanced back and forth between the two as Walker spoke, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Buck…we promised him ten minutes.” You reminded him, seeing his resolve crumble a bit. You could guess he was thinking of the nightmares. The people he couldn’t save. The blood he already considered on his hands.

Walker used his moment of hesitation, shoving past him roughly. “I’m not waiting.”

“John!”

“Walker!”

You followed after him, you and Bucky arguing with him and Hoskins about giving Sam more time, but it was too late.

“Karli Morgenthau! You’re under arrest!”

“Fuck.” You hissed out when you saw Sam’s panicked expression, looking at you confused. Walker was flown across the room when Karli punched him, Bucky shoving Hoskins out of the way to run after her.

“Y/N-”

You threw your hands up. “I tried, Sam! C’mon!”

You and Sam ran over to some stairs, turning corners and trying to remember what the building looked like from outside to cut her off, but you only ran into Bucky again. 

“I wish we had the layout or something.” You grumbled. “We were that close-”

“We’re not done yet, doll.” Nodding, you followed the boys out, Bucky pausing every so often to try to hear anything. “I’ve got gunshots.” At that, the three of you took off towards the sound, Bucky leading the way.

Just around the corner from where Bucky heard the gunshots, you thought you saw a couple people slip around another bend. Noticing you had stopped, Bucky backtracked. “You okay?’

“Yeah.” Deciding it wasn’t worth the pursuit, you turned to him and nodded towards the doorway Sam already went through. He gave you a look, but nodded and the two of you jogged into the room.

You sighed heavily, seeing Zemo knocked out on the floor, Walker standing over him and broken vials that were previously full of, what you assumed was, the Serum. Hoskins ran in right after you, meaning no one but Walker and Zemo knew what happened. Meaning you would probably never get the full, true story.

What fun it is to work with manipulators and liars.

********************

“I don’t like him.” Bucky grumbled, the two of you walking up to the place you were staying in, Bucky holding the door open for you.

“I know you don’t, Buck. I don’t either.” You had asked Bucky to go with you to get some fresh air once you got back, Zemo having woken up a few minutes after and Walker and Hoskins had to make a call or something official like the good soldiers they were. “He’s hiding something.”

“You think?” Bucky scoffed, giving you a look.

You rolled your eyes. “I mean…I don’t know. When we found him and Zemo…my gut twisted.”

He nodded in understanding, his face twisting into a scowl. “Yeah. Mine did too.”

You stopped him before you could walk through the door to the main room. “Do me a favor?” He nodded again with a little hum. Catching his chin between your fingers, your free hand moved to smooth out the creases between his brow. “Stop brooding so much. It makes me worried.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, features softening slightly. “Are you really gonna leave in the morning? I know you’ve had a lot of people telling you to take a break, and it’s selfish for me to ask you to stay, but…I dunno if I can finish this without you.”

“I-” You sighed, ducking your head as you thought of a response, before looking up in his wide eyes, begging for you to stick around longer. “Let’s just finish the day and see what happens next. Okay?”

He bit his lip, nodding slightly. You gave him a smile, before tugging on his hand. “I need a drink.”

He chuckled at that. “That I can fix, doll.” He, again, opened the door for you, and the two of you walked in.

“What a gentleman. Straight outta the 40’s.” You joked, making him roll his eyes.

He took off his jacket, heading to the kitchen, while you sat on the opposite side of the island. “Somethin’s not right about Walker.”

Sam gave you two an amused look. “You don’t say.”

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one.” He opened the lid of the bottle he grabbed, starting to pour two glasses of whiskey for the both of you. “Because I am crazy.”

You rolled your eyes as Sam responded, “can’t argue with that.”

“You shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

Giving Bucky a disapproving look over the rim of your glass, you sipped your drink, narrowing your eyes when he ignored you. “I didn’t give him the shield.”

“Well Steve definitely didn’t.”

Your glass slammed down on the counter. Why did he have to bring this up right now? Seriously? You were just having a nice conversation about places you wanted to visit while taking a walk outside. Why was he suddenly snapping?

Before you could scold him, the doors burst open, making your head whip over as Walker stormed in, “ordering” you to hand over Zemo.

You stayed sitting, leaning on the counter and facing the opposite wall as Sam told him off, giving an amused snicker as you sipped your drink. Bucky sat besides you, facing Walker, and you recognized from the angle he was positioning himself that he was blocking you from Walker’s view, whether intentional or not.

You raised an eyebrow, turning in interest when Walker put down the shield, knowing Sam wasn’t about to fight the man. What an ego the blonde had.

Before anything could happen, however, a spear pierced through the air, lodging in the pillar next to Walker’s head.

Your frustration with Bucky’s comment flew out of your head as Ayo and a few other Dora Milaje walked in. Bucky sat up straighter and you stood up, leaning ever so slightly against his arm.

You nearly facepalmed, a sound of complete disbelief leaving you as Walker introduced himself. Sam looked over at you two, an entertained, slightly incredulous smile on his face.

Sam tried warning him. He really did. But Walker, you’ve come to find, was an arrogant, egotistical narcissist who only wanted to win and would do whatever it takes to do so. Even when there wasn’t really a winner. At least, not in that situation. It seemed that Walker liked ignoring the gray area in the world, which wasn’t good. Not in the least.

Which is why you couldn’t really feel sorry for the man. You saw it coming as soon as he told them they didn’t have jurisdiction. And the moment he touched Ayo?

You put your chin on Bucky’s shoulder - who had stood up from his spot - watching the Dora Milaje kick Walker’s ass, wincing and cringing mockingly at the right moments, making Bucky smirk at you.

“We should do something.” Sam said, although he didn’t look thrilled about the prospect.

Bucky crossed his arms. “Looking strong, John!”

You gave a slight snort, not wanting to encourage anything, but unable to hold in your amusement. Bucky winked at you, clinking his cup of whiskey with your own, before taking a gulp.

“Bucky.” 

You huffed and stepped back at Sam’s tone. “C’mon, Buck.”

“Fine.” Bucky grunted. “But ‘M not happy about it.”

Soon, the three of you, plus Walker and Hoskins, were all occupied with a member of the Dora Milaje. You knew you couldn’t take them; they were on a higher level that Natasha, and you could barely beat her. But you weren’t necessarily trying to win.

It was a strange fight, knowing that no one - except Walker, probably - actually wanted to hurt anyone. Of course, that didn’t stop one of them from exploiting your injured shoulder that she spotted rather quickly. The hits were quick and precise, the tip of her spear cutting along the graze, hitting the spot just perfect enough to reopen it. The stitches that had been placed only a couple days ago ripped, making you wince and clutch your now bleeding shoulder.

“Oh fuck.” You groaned. “You were always good with those things.”

She gave you an almost apologetic look, before she looked over to Ayo, who stepped through the room towards the bathroom where Zemo had locked himself in during the chaos.

When you caught sight of the shoulder thing she did to Bucky, his metallic arm now laying on the floor, his eyes wide and his stance stunned, your jaw nearly dropped. You guessed it made sense that they had a way to do that, but, still. None of you were expecting it.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked once they started leaving, Bucky picking up his arm and connecting it to his shoulder.

“No.” The arm whirred as he swung it, getting it back to normal.

You couldn’t help the little giggle that left you, making Bucky raise an eyebrow at you. You tried holding in more laughs, but they just kept coming. “She-she...she disarmed you!”

Bucky rolled his eyes as you chortled, holding your stomach and bending over. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Oh come on!” You straightened and wiped your eyes. “That was good! Wasn’t it, Sammy?”

Sammy chuckled and nodded. “I’ll admit, it was pretty good. This, however, is not.”

Your laughter died as Sam made his way over to the bathroom, the light air that came with your cackles dissipating as quickly as it came.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.”

You stared at the drain that was uncovered - large enough for Zemo to slip inside and escape. He did it. The son of a bitch finally did it. It took him long enough. You would’ve betted against him days ago.

“I can.” Bucky turned and grabbed your hand. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

*********************

“I thought you told them.”

Bucky looked up from wrapping your shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“I thought you told them. The Dora Milaje. Wakanda. T’Challa. I thought you told them about Zemo.”

He leaned back with a sigh. “It was kinda a last minute decision. You know that. You were there.”

You nodded. “I do. But I also know what they’ve done for you. Shuri and Ayo. I was there for that, too. And you know what he did to them. To their country. Their king.”

“I know, I know. I almost died several times because of it.”

Your eyebrows pinched in confusion. “So why-”

“I thought it’d be quick. I thought, maybe, I could do it without them finding out and then we could get to Karli and they wouldn’t be disappointed. Win win.”

Your cheek caught between your teeth as you thought. “You could’ve just asked-”

He shook his head. “They would’ve said no. You know that.”

“Okay. Fine. Yes. I know that. But…but giving them a warning would’ve been better than this.” He hung his head, closing his eyes. “Bucky. Hey,” hooking a finger under his chin, you tilted his head back up to look at you. “I know it’s been hard for you. Everything has. And I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I shouldn’t have let you come along. You should be healing, and it’s my fault you’re not.” He opened his mouth, face scrunching up in disagreement, but you shook your head. “It’s true. I just…I didn’t know it would come this far.” You gnawed on your bottom lip studying those captivating eyes, before sighing. “Which is why I’m not leaving.”

He perked up, those pretty eyes going wide, jaw slackening. “You-you’re not?!”

You shook your head. As much as you wanted to run away, you couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. “It wouldn’t be fair to you or Sam. I promised to help, and I brought you into it. So I’m gonna stay.

“Are you, uh…are you sure? You don’t hafta if you don’t wanna, doll. I know I kinda pushed you earlier, but-”

“I’m sure Buck.” You nodded firmly. “Just…do something for me?”

“I dunno if I can promise not brooding, sweetheart.”

You giggled at his words. “Not that. Just…stop giving Sam a hard time. About the shield. Please.”

His soft features hardened and he scowled. “If he didn’t give it up-”

“He thought it was going to the museum. I told you about that, remember? I told you we’d go when I got back.”

Giving a slight nod, he sighed. “We never did.”

“We will. But, I’m serious, Buck. Please. It’s not his fault. He did exactly what Steve did.” At Bucky’s confused look, you pursed your lips, looking down at his hands, starting to play with his fingers. “Remember how I was thinking during those ten minutes we had?” He nodded. “I was thinking about how Steve gave the shield back to Tony. After saving you. In Siberia. You remember that?” Another nod was given, so you continued. “It was for you, James. Because you made him realize that he didn’t want to be the face of a country that preached one thing, but did another. And that’s what Sam did. He did it for his family. For himself. Because no one wants to fight for a country that goes against your personal beliefs, no matter what they say.”

“I-I don’t understand.” Bucky’s eyes squinted, his brow creasing as he tried processing what you were telling him.

“That’s okay. Not everyone will. Really only they can understand their own reasoning. But you have to try to understand that he did what he thought was best for himself. For Steve. For the shield. And I know - dammit do I know - that it’s the last thing left of him. But it is just metal. Isn’t it? Steve’s the reason it is what it is. No one else. And no one is going to change that.”

Bucky took a breath, glossy, worried eyes meeting yours. “Walker’s going to ruin it. I know he is. I can feel it. Everything Steve worked for. I don’t care about Captain America. I care about the kid from Brooklyn who wanted to make a difference, no matter how little he was. I trusted him. I followed him through bullets and blood, with only that shield between us and them. He was home on a battlefield in Italy across the ocean from New York. And that shield was the welcome mat. It doesn’t matter what it says, what it looks like…but it protected my home when I couldn’t. But now? I feel like it’s tearing my home down. Pulling out the bricks. And it hurts. It was never about the shield, Y/N. It was always about the man it protected when I couldn’t be there for him. And now?”

Gathering him in your arms as he trailed off, you gave a couple little sniffles, pressing your face in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck lightly. “I’ll be your welcome mat, Buckaroo.” You offered.

He shook his head, pulling away to hold your face between his hands. “No, sweetheart. You’re not the welcome mat. You’re the new bricks replacing the old. You’re…you’re my home, now, doll.”

You swallowed thickly, unable to handle the rush of emotions that just poured through you, the sudden change in topic making you feel more vulnerable than you’d like. You leaned forwards, placing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, feeling him go lax in your arms. “And you’re mine.” You murmured softly, before getting up and heading out for the room, unable to stay any longer. You still had a mission to do. One that became even more desperate with Zemo loose, Walker unhinged, and Karli being so close.

******************

There was a silent agreement to not bring up your conversation. Not yet, at least. Sam had eyed you both when you came out of the room, saying you were ready to get moving, but he didn’t say anything either.

None of you really knew where you were going, only what you had to do. Find Zemo and get to Karli before Walker could. Both of which were a lot easier said than done.

Until Sam got a call from Sarah, who told him Karli contacted her personally and threatened her and her sons. She left a contact number for Sam, evidently wanting to meet. His phone dinged not a minute after he texted the number.

“She said come alone.”

“Well that’s not happening.” You opposed, crossing your arms.

Bucky nodded with your sentence. “We’re coming with you.”

Sam didn’t say anything against it, the three of you exchanging glances, before heading out to the location, changing into your tactical suits along the way.

Karli didn’t seem to mind you and Bucky tagging along, and you understood why the moment she mentioned not killing Sam because he wasn’t hiding behind a shield. It was a distraction. They were going after Walker.

It was confirmed only moments later when Sharon contacted Sam. “Looks like he found them, or maybe they found him.”

As soon as Sam announced that it was Walker, you jumped into action, Sam disabling Karli for just the right amount of time for you to get a head start. “I’ll send you the location. Go.” He told Bucky, who nodded and took off in his super soldier sprint. “You hitching a ride?”

You rolled your eyes at his slight tease. “I hate this so much.” You grumbled, catching his hand as he took off in the air with his bird costume. He held onto you tightly, like the millions of times you’d done this before, although it didn’t make you any less dizzy, traveling that fast, that high, with only his hold keeping you from dropping. “You’re lucky I trust you so much!”

He gave a small chuckle at your shout over the wind. “We’re landing! Brace yourself!” You followed his order, just in time for him to break through the glass ceiling of the building Walker was in. The both of you landed on a platform on the staircase just as a Flag Smasher was thrown through double glass doors, down the stairs, and into a power box. Your eyes went wide as Walker strolled down the steps, oozing a confidence that made you nervous. The moment Walker stopped the Flag Smasher - the Super Soldier - from hitting him with the pipe, you knew even before he twisted it like a pretzel.

“Sam.” You breathed out. You couldn’t even do anything, only watching as the Flag Smasher got up from being thrown again, and running down a hall.

“What’d you do?”

“They got Lemar.” Was the only reply he gave, brushing past you and Sam. You gave Sam a look, but he just jerked his head down the hall, in the direction the Flag Smasher went and the way Walker started heading. You nodded, willing to drop it for now to save someone’s life, but you were so bringing it up once this was done.

Jogging into the room, you should’ve expected the ambush in the room, but, to be honest, they didn’t take as much advantage as they could’ve, so it wasn’t too difficult of a fight. You had trained with Steve millions of times before, so you knew how to go against a Super Soldier. Granted, your Cap wasn’t trying to kill you while training, but it was better than nothing.

You protected your shoulder, knowing that was your weak point, while trying to disguise it so whoever you were fighting wouldn’t realize your Achilles’ Heel. Something you often found while dealing with Steve, and even Bucky, was that Super Soldiers, as quick as they were, tended to favor the super strength side of their enhancements. This made it easier for you to dodge the attacks, knowing most of your blows wouldn’t do much.

Knowing you wouldn’t be able to stay on the defensive for long, you decided to try to get an advantage over them. Disarming them and taking their knife was easy enough. A small advantage, yeah, but now you had a weapon, and you could work with that.

You weren’t exactly sure when Bucky joined the fight, but he did, immediately coming over to you when you body kicked your opponent, helping you up. “That was a Steve move.” Your eyes caught sight of the Flag Smasher behind him and you shoved his shoulder down, throwing your knife, making it land solidly in the man’s shoulder. Bucky looked up at you from his crouch, impressed. “And that was a me move.”

You shrugged. “I’m a visual learner.”

You, Sam, and Bucky were about to go for another round with the guys when a sickening crack sounded behind you, and you whipped around. 

Hoskins was against a split pillar, a crimson streak running down his forehead, head lolling to the side, lips red and cracked. The fight stopped as Walker rushed over to his friend, but you knew there was no way he survived. A punch from a Super Soldier? That hard?

Eyeing the Flag Smashers, you turned to Sam and Bucky when they started dispersing, Karli running out as well. They nodded towards you and the three of you took off after her, not wanting to let her get away again and, for you, at least, wanting to give Walker some time.

You weren’t expecting his grief to turn into such raw hatred. 

Running up to the city square, you didn’t actually see it happen. Just the aftermath. Which was good, considering you nearly threw up just seeing that.

You heard the change in Bucky’s breathing, barely recognizing the way he stepped in front of you, only realizing you stepped closer when you felt his sleeve against your palms, fingers tightly wrapped around his forearm. A choked sound came from somewhere, but you didn’t know it was you, even as Bucky reached his arm around to hold your waist, keeping you behind his shoulder. 

Tears leaked down your face silently, eyes unable to look away as Walker straightened, sliding the shield on his arm, too nonchalantly for someone who just murdered another in front of a crowd full of people, cameras pointed towards him.

The shield. That piece of metal you had been wondering so deeply about the past couple of weeks. The link to the first person you’d ever loved. Ruined. Tarnished. Stained.

You could barely breathe, your throat clenching so tightly it was a wonder you were able to get anything out at all.

“James…”

#cjsinkythoughts #cjswriting #cjsspoilers #fatws spoilers #tfatws spoilers #falcon and the winter soldier spoilers #fatws #tfatws #falcon and the winter soldier #fatws series #fatws pt 5.2 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky barnes #❤🐦💙🦾 #💙🦾

[duskholland]

Warm | Tom Holland Smut

warnings ↠ nsfw, 18+ ! this is just some very loving c*ckwarming with sleepy boyfriend tom, ft unprotected sex and oral (fem receiving)

word count ↠ a wholesome 3k

a/n ↠ got inspired by the ig live yesterday and whipped up a lil something to satisfy the devil in me. let me know what you think!

The material of Tom’s hoodie is soft against your cheek, and as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, it feels as though the weight of the world is rolling from your shoulders. His hands are on your waist, tucked beneath the hem of your t-shirt and resting gently over the curves of your hips. As you hum against his shoulder, you feel him shift his fingers, tracing delicate, circular patterns over your skin. 

“Your hoodie is so soft,” you mumble against him, punctuating the words with a few soft kisses to the base of his neck. Tom squeezes your sides, bringing his lips to the top of your head where he leaves a lingering kiss to your hairline. “Wish we could stay like this forever.”

One of his hands moves away from your waist, drifting up to cup the back of your head. As Tom’s nimble fingers rest over your hair, he uses his other arm to pull you closer. It’s a lazy Sunday morning, both of you tangled up in sweats and comfy clothes, and the feeling of his warm body pressed against yours makes you sigh contentedly. 

“We can stay like this all day?” Tom offers. He slowly strokes over the back of your head, the gesture full of a gentle tenderness you’d missed. He’s been so busy recently, with filming and press engagements, that it’s been a while since you’ve had time to exist like this. Two people, curled up together, wrapped up in dizzying love. “Missed you so much this week, darling.”

You smile against his neck and finally pull back so you can look at him properly. You’re resting over Tom’s thighs, straddling his green sweats comfortably, and your position gives you the perfect opportunity to get a lovely, long look at your boyfriend’s face. With his pink hood drawn up around his head, you can make out a few strands of his brown hair, long and a little shiny, and you find your fingers drawn towards them. You reach up, smiling at his tut of disapproval as you gently knock the hood down, revealing his bed of messy, chestnut curls.

“Missed you too,” you finally reply, carding a hand through his hair. With your other fingers, you reach out to cup his cheek, grinning as he presses his face into your palm. Tom’s got his eyes wide and flooded with gentle love, and it makes you melt. This man has you wrapped around his little finger. “Missed a lot of things about you, actually.”

“Yeah?” Tom’s lips quirk into a lazy smirk as he draws you a little nearer. He smells faintly of cologne. “Like what?”

“Oh, you know…” As you muse, you let your index finger wander down the bridge of his nose, tracing over the light freckles. “Missed hearing your lovely voice. It always sounds so raspy in the morning like this.” You lean in to press a quick kiss to his jaw. “And I missed your hugs. God, Tom, you give the best hugs.” As if to prove your point, Tom tightens his grip around you. “Missed your lips, too.”

“Oh, you did, did you?” He’s got that cheeky glint in his eyes, and you nod your head immediately. “I think they missed you too, love. Why don’t you pay them a visit?”

The snort that leaves your mouth is a loud burst of twisted sound, but it makes Tom’s smile grow wider. You wind both arms around his neck and shuffle closer, finally bridging the distance and nuzzling your mouth against his. 

Kissing Tom has to be one of your favourite things ever. The way your lips meld together, dancing in sync as he presses against you with eager force always makes your heart race, no matter how long you’ve been together. His lips are warm and gentle, and as they meet with yours in a lazy exploration of mutual enjoyment, you find yourself melting against him. His hands are back on your hips, and they roam the expanse of your naked back as his tongue flicks into your mouth, causing you to groan softly. When he drags his fingers up and discovers your lack of bra, he’s quick to shift his palms around to the front of your body, holding the curves of your breasts in each hand.

“I bloody love you,” he murmurs, speaking against your lips. The pads of his thumbs brush over your nipples and you gasp into his mouth, careening further into his touch. “You’re the most beautiful woman on the planet, lovie.” 

You kiss him with a little more intensity, your heart fluttering in response to his sweet, sweet sentiment. It’s early - the both of you had only woken up a half-hour ago - so Tom’s voice is strained and raspy. The sound of his husky tones brings a thrill of excitement to the heat between your legs. 

As his tongue explores your mouth and your fingers tangle in his hair, you become aware of a building pressure pushing up against your sweats. You start to grind down against him, enjoying both the friction it provides to your clit and also the way the movement draws deep, desperate whines from Tom. 

“You wanna know a secret?” You ask him, pulling away to pant in his ear. When Tom hums, you kiss his earlobe. “Think I might’ve missed your cock, too.”

His chuckle rumbles into the air. “Is that so?” Tom’s hands slip away from your chest, and they anchor down your hips. You hum as he guides you, pushing you further against his crotch as your centres meet. You can feel the outline of his length straining up against you, and the sensation makes you grin. “I’ve missed being inside your tight little pussy.” He leaves a kiss just behind your ear, right over a patch of sensitive skin. “Maybe we should do something about that?”

You almost whine as you nod, eagerly reaching down to release the drawstrings of his sweats. In return, Tom pulls free your own, and there’s a moment of shuffling around as you sit up and carefully wriggle out of both your trousers and your panties, Tom bundling them up and folding them into a neat pile beside him. Once you’re settled, you reach beneath the waistband of Tom’s sweats and pull his full member free, all whilst his hot lips trail up and down the column of your neck. 

There’s no burning desperation to your movements as you slowly work one another up. Rather, it’s gentle. Soft caresses, tender lips, whispered words of praise. You’re kissing him as you slowly slide your hand up and down his shaft, and he’s swallowing your moans with his tongue when two of his fingers slip into your slick pussy and work you open. It’s loving and familiar as he crooks his fingertips and nudges up against your g-spot, stimulating your passage until you’re bucking down against him, your movements distracted as your cunt drips for him.

“Need you inside me,” you moan out, a slight pull to your voice. You whimper as Tom’s hot fingers slip out from inside you, and then gasp when he uses his wet fingertips to rub over your clit. The bud pulses and you almost lose it, but a panging in your cunt reminds you of your overwhelming desire to have him inside you. “Tom,” you whine, skimming your thumb over his weepy tip, “Stop teasing.”

Tom growls into your ear, but he reluctantly moves his fingers away from you. He meets your eyes as he very purposefully brings his hand to his mouth and makes a show of licking his digits clean, moaning softly as he does it. 

“Delicious,” he decides. When you throw him a light scowl, he grabs you by the hips and brings you nearer. “Now,” he says, dropping his voice. His hand joins yours on his cock, and together you guide his head through your slit. You let Tom do the hard work, whimpering quietly as he lines his tip with your entrance. “How about we take care of this little problem, eh?”

Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you slowly, slowly lower yourself over him, tossing your head back as you adjust to the stretch. Tom’s lips move over your neck, sucking a soft hickey to your skin, anchoring you down. The sensation of his member settling deep inside you after so long makes you grab fistfuls of his hoodie, your knuckles tightening around it as you gasp softly.

“Fuck,” you murmur, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You’re fully seated now, and you can feel every ridge and line of his cock pushed up against your walls, as if in high definition. Everything is amplified, and the longer you sit there wrapped up in his arms and with his lips now dusting over your temple, the closer to Tom you feel. “I love you,” you whimper, voice breathless.

Tom runs his hands over your back, soothing you with large circles of his palms. “Love you too, darling,” he mumbles. He shifts a little on the sofa, and you moan as the head of his cock brushes deeper. “Feel so warm ‘n snug around me.”

You feel yourself clench at his words, and make a very conscious decision to loosen up. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you pull yourself away from the crook of Tom’s neck, pouting a little as the soft fabric of his hoodie leaves your face.

“Do you want to stay like this for a little bit?” You ask, eyes skimming his beautiful face. Your heart fills with appreciation for the man as you pick up all the small details that make him so attractive to you: the worn curves of his nose, the splattering of sun-kissed freckles over his cheeks, the ruffled hairs of his eyebrow. Your thumb absently moves up to his eyebrow and you draw your touch across it, feeling the soft hairs with your finger and sighing as you admire him. 

“How long?”

You crane your neck back, glancing briefly at the paused TV. “‘Til the end of the show? Should be about ten minutes.” You move your hand into his hair, feeling the silky strands fall past your fingers. “Just wanna feel close to you.”

Tom presses his lips to the tip of your nose, drawing a loose giggle from you. “Alright,” he agrees. He drops his voice as he shifts his mouth back to your ear, hot breath flushing over your neck as he adds, quieter, “I’m going to wreck you afterwards, though.”

A shiver passes through you, and your hum mixes with the sounds of the TV as Tom immediately unpauses the programme. You can’t see the screen from where you’re sitting, but you turn down Tom’s offer to reposition. The show is the last thing on your mind, and you’re glad you’re not distracted by it. 

For you, there’s nothing more fulfilling than hiding your face into your boyfriend’s shoulder and feeling him everywhere. Hands on your sides, caressing you and drawing you closer. His lips softly passing over the top of your head. His length, plugging you up to the hilt. Each time one of you shifts, you release a quiet whimper as arcs of pleasure roll up your spine, and when you clench in response, Tom grunts. There’s something so easily private about it: no end goal but just to enjoy one another, and spend this quiet moment holed up in each other’s arms. 

You’ve never felt this loved before, and it brings a lump to your throat.

“You okay?” Tom asks, shifting a hand to hold the back of your head. You hum, tilting your face to the side so you can kiss the point behind his ear.

“Yeah. Just really love you.”

His eyes flicker down to meet yours, flooding with concern when he notes the tears spread thinly over your eyes. “You’re so precious,” he lilts, his accent twanging prominently. He brings you nearer, kissing your forehead in several spots. “I’m going to marry you one day.”

You kiss him, letting your hand travel up to rest against his cheek. “Good,” you whisper against him. There’s a dizzying moment where you just look at him, his eyes mirroring yours, flooded deep with gratitude that rocks you to your bones. You feel safe wrapped up in his arms, and as the music for the credits drifts through the air, you find yourself exhaling. “Show’s over.”

“Lay down for me, love.” 

You whimper when you feel his length slide from you, your cunt feeling cold and empty without him, but he kisses at your pout until it fades away. Tom follows you down onto the couch cushions, caging you in with an arm either side your head. After a moment, you feel his cock sliding through your slit again, pressing up against your clit in a way that makes you moan. 

“I can taste myself on your tongue,” you admit, pulling away from a deep kiss with a perplexed expression on your face. 

“Fucking lovely, isn’t it?” Tom gains a rather mischievous look on his face. “Actually…” 

He pulls away before you can grab him to stay, and Tom slips down between your legs with a cheeky smirk on his lips. 

“Tom,” you whine, scrunching your nose. “I want you.”

“In a minute.” He presses your knees apart and leaves a soft kiss to the inside of one of your thighs. “Patience, my darling girl.”

You try your best to look unimpressed, but it’s very difficult to maintain the rouse as he draws his tongue through your slit. You reach down to grip at his hair, pulling him closer as he trails his mouth all over you. He moans straight against your sopping folds, teasing your clit with his tongue as he slides two fingers back into you, exploring your wet heat eagerly.

“Tom,” you cry out, your back arching off the sofa. His free hand immediately goes to your side, pushing you back down and keeping you in place as his mouth explores you. Noises of your wet arousal fill the air as he sucks over your clit, teasing you, edging you until you’re whimpering. “C’mon, Tom, don’t wanna cum like this. Need to be full of you.”

When he pulls back, Tom runs the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the shine of your slick and his spit combined. He cracks a smile when he takes in the fucked-out expression on your face, pulling up until he’s hovering above you once more. One of his hands caresses your leg before loosely opening it up, and the other rests over your hair near your head. He kisses you softly.

“Are you ready?” He asks. 

“Yes,” you whimper, pressing down against him to prove your point. Your voice twists into a gasp as Tom slips into you, the movement easy and slick. Your fingers grip at the back of his hoodie as he rocks against you, your cunt squeezing around him as you take him wholly. “Shit.”

Tom nips at your necks, strands of his hair rubbing up against your hot skin. “So fucking perfect,” he murmurs. He pulls out before fucking back into you with a deep, slow thrust. “Fuck, you’re such an angel.” He leaves another kiss to your neck as he gradually quickens his pace. “My angel, aren’t you?”

You pull him back up, meeting his mouth in response. As you kiss him, his hand on your thigh shifts up and intertwines with one of yours, your fingers tangling as the rest of your bodies do, too. You’re grateful for the contact - keeping you anchored together like an emotional tether, a constant reminder of your love. 

Everything about the moment feels so intimate, his pace slow but still fulfilling. Each time Tom thrusts his hips to meet yours, you feel him in you deep, nudging against those spots only he could reach. Each rut presses you one step closer to heaven, and your praises come out garbled, dissolving into his mouth as his lips caress you, tender and warm. 

Tom pulls away after minutes of deep kissing to stare at you, brown eyes full of warmth. “I’m so lucky,” he stammers out, voice strained. You widen your leg, granting him easier access, and both of you groan as the position lets him in deeper. You can feel that telltale warmth building in the pit of your stomach. “Love of my life, you are. You and your- fuck, your perfect little pussy.” His cheeks are red as he kisses your jaw. “Can’t wait to fuck you for the rest of my life, love.”

His words ignite something inside you that goes much deeper than superficial pleasure, and you find yourself clinging to him, gripping his hand with renewed strength as your other twists down between your bodies. Your fingertips connect with your clit, and you glide them over the bud, moaning louder as you feel your orgasm jerk closer.

“Cum in me,” you find yourself saying, eyes trained on the spot between your legs where Tom’s cock meets with your cunt. “Wanna feel you fill me up.” 

His head finds the crook of your neck, sweaty forehead pushing up against your skin as he grunts. “I’m not going to last much longer.”

“It’s okay.” You squeeze his hand as you gasp for breath. “I’m close.”

Tom peaks a few moments later, and the action of his guttural groans spilling into the air coupled with the way his cock pulses as he empties his load inside you makes you spasm over the edge too. You whimper as you orgasm, a throbbing warmth spreading across you as Tom kisses your neck over and over, his fingers gripping yours tightly as you enjoy the high together, basking in it. Your mouth hangs half-open as you vocalise your climax, your body on fire as he fucks you through it, the moment spanning a short infinity.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, finally stilling. He stays nudged up inside you as he sits up, supporting his weight on his arms, your hands still joined. Tom kisses you passionately, and you feel him smile against your lips as you kiss him back. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

You bring your free hand up to his head, pushing his hair out from his face as you cup his cheek, looking into his captivating brown eyes. You look at him, and you know that there’s no safer vessel for your heart. You know he’s the love of your life. 

“Love you too,” you say, pausing to kiss him between each word. By the end, both of you are smiling. “You know you’re still in me, yeah?”

Tom chuckles, nodding. “Yeah.” He kisses your nose. “You’re warm.”

-

------

yeah you could say im soft for hoodie!tom...

masterlist linked in bio !

please let me know if you’ve got any thoughts :D askbox is always open; feel free to rb/comment (pls)

stay safe my lovely pals <3

#keyword tonight is: soft #can you tell i missed tom...? lmao #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland #my writing #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #smut

[aramblingjay]

Through fresh eyes, Part II

Alternatively titled: How Gary goes from looking at Jamie like he wants to kill him to looking at Jamie like arguing football with him is the highlight of his week (and the greatest honor of his life)

Aka: I somehow started writing an indifferent-coworkers-to-best-friends carraville origin story fic?

Part 1

--

Gary doesn’t normally make a habit of reading the papers, knows better than most just how much of it is exaggerated nonsense, but he types mnf into the search bar the morning after, ready to skim the results through half-lidded eyes. It’s the negative comments that stick with you, and he wants to close out of the tab quickly if it seems to be going in that direction.

The first one reads: Gary Neville and Jamie Carragher, the perfect TV double.

He slams his laptop shut like the words have physically burned his eyes.

It’s been one day. (Well, a few weeks, actually, but only one day that’s been properly aired on TV, only one day that the viewers have actually seen of him and Carragher together). Just one day, and he’s already been reduced to a double act with Carragher? He’s been here for two years, helped bring this show to where it is—just because Carragher doesn’t seem like an outright failure, and has a bit of fire in him that Gary likes, doesn’t mean suddenly they’re going to be some new buddy-buddy double act taking the punditry world by storm.

He is his own damn person, and certainly his own damn pundit—to hell with Carragher.

Only several hours later, after he’s looked through no less than twenty-three inane stories about the transfer window to cleanse his mind, does Gary let himself actually read the rest of the article.

And suddenly, impulsively, finds himself sending it to Carragher before he can think twice. Ridiculous and premature or not, it isn’t every day they’re going to hear positive things about their punditry—most of the time it’s nothing but vitriol on Twitter and a passing mention in the papers. Better to enjoy it while it lasts.

Carragher replies instantly, too fast for him to have read and comprehended the article, unless he already saw it before Gary’s message. Something about that gives Gary pause. He’s been in this business long enough to know how to handle googling himself, but Carragher is new, and the thick skin he’ll have developed as a football player isn’t quite built right for the mud-slinging in punditry.

It’s different, when they’re attacking your words and opinions and beliefs rather than just your performance on the pitch, far more personal, prone to slipping behind your carefully-crafted defenses and hitting you where it hurts. Punditry is a performance, an art, a very delicate balance between revealing enough of yourself to be genuine and not quite so much to leave yourself vulnerable, and Carragher hasn’t learned it yet. Barely even realizes what there is to learn, beyond turning up with his encyclopedic brain (because it is, Gary is man enough to admit that) and saying what he feels about the game he loves.

He looks at Carragher’s message again, equal parts encouraging and damning in its simple honestly. Not a bad way to start, that.

There’s also something very earnest about it, and maybe that’s why some Liverpudlian spirit possesses his fingers and types out Scoring on your debut, seems to be a habit of yours (spiritual possession is the only explanation for that message, Gary decides later, because there’s no way he consciously, in full possession of all his mental faculties, sent that himself)

The response is, of course, a video of said debut goal from all those years ago.

--

The following day, he wakes up to a lengthy message from Carragher on United’s attack, along with a clip he wants to analyze next Monday before the game. Gary’s halfway through typing a retort when he notices the time stamp.

The fuck were you doing awake at 4am? he sends instead.

ASA were playing ABC, is the reply. Immediate, as always.

Gary tries to remember if he’s ever heard of such teams, in or out of football. What sport is that?

Carragher sends back a laughing emoji, and Gary scoffs. He decides it says much more about Carragher that he knows who those teams are, never mind bothers to watch them, than that Gary has never even heard of them before.

Serie B

Italy?

Brazil, lad

Gary is thrown off enough that he nearly doesn’t notice he’s been called lad, like he’s some thirteen-year-old kid from Liverpool.

Thinking of joining the Brazilian league? Might be a little too fast for you

How would you know, you’ve never seen a game

And Gary has to admit, he’s got him there.

--

Despite having gotten a lot better at it over the years, Gary still hates the public speaking appearances with a passion. It’s different sitting in a studio with the cameras, where the audience at home is literally at home, out of sight and therefore mostly out of mind, to sitting on stage and being able to actually see the people spread out in a sea of faces before him.

So Gary thought on it and thought on it—the Edinburgh Television Festival wasn’t something to be sniffed at, he knew it was an honor to be invited—and ended up saying yes when they offered to have Ed be the one interviewing him.

Which is how they’re now here, just three days off the back of the first MNF of the season, talking more football in front of a slightly different set of bright blue screens.

Overall, it isn’t bad. The questions are decent, and football is one of the few things in the world he can talk about forever, especially when it’s with someone he knows and trusts like Ed.

A little over halfway through, they get to the Carragher question. It isn’t a surprise, exactly, but (in what he’ll later accept was probably a bit of an oversight) he didn’t prepare anything of what he was going to say regarding his new co-pundit. Which means he’s caught slightly off-guard when Ed asks, “What’s it like working with Jamie Carragher, you enjoying it?”, and the response is more instinctive than anything else.

“Yeah,” he says instantly, before he has time to think, and knows that it’s true. They’ve only done one full show together, but he did enjoy it, and to say anything else would be unfair to Carragher and to himself. “I think he’s done incredibly well,” he continues, his own first television appearance coming back to him with, as usual, the emotional equivalent of a pained wince. “I think it worked well between the three of us—it’ll get better, of course it will, but it was a good start.”

Not a bad way to start, that, rings in his ears, and yeah, alright, maybe that was the very best way of putting it after all.

He plans to stop there. It’s a good answer, succinct, measured, complimentary and self-critical all at once. But he’s also aware that in all the pundits he’s worked with over his two years at Sky, last Monday was the first time he could fathom seeing one of them sat beside him on MNF long-term. Not because Carragher knew how to talk, like so many of the others who’ve had a go and not been quite right, but because he knew what to say. There isn’t much he or anyone can determine about Carragher as a pundit yet, that’ll take time to develop and time to judge, but one thing is utterly, utterly clear. And it deserves a mention.

So he goes on.

“He’s incredibly knowledgeable about football. I mean, he’s—” Gary pauses, letting out a breath that’s more for emphasis than because Carragher’s intelligence has reduced him to speechlessness.

“He’s an encyclopedia, isn’t he?” Ed chimes in.

“Yeah, he is an encyclopedia about football.”

“He watches everything,” Ed continues.

“He watches ev—I mean, I watch a lot of football. But he watches everything.” There are a few chuckles from the crowd, but Gary doesn’t join in. It is funny, sure, until Carragher pulls out some obscure fact about Pablo Osvaldo from his fucking Huracan days, and it turns out to be true. Then it’s just impressive, and maybe a little scary.

Gary thinks back to their conversation just two days ago. “I mean, Brazil second division at three o’clock in the morning on channel 458, he’ll be there, watching it. I mean, it’s like—unbelievable.”

Ed goes into the Pablo Osvaldo story, tying a nice bow on all things Carragher before moving smoothly into the next question. But Gary finds himself thinking about it later that day, later that week, all the way up to the next MNF—he’s a student of the game, someone said to him before it all began, and it’s looking more and more like they might be right.

--

Watching games with Carragher is different. Ed doesn’t tend to have a lot of opinions during matches, at least not ones that he voices—his job is to remain somewhat neutral throughout the show, guide it along and steer Gary towards opportunities to voice his opinions, and that means Ed very rarely contributes to the in-game atmosphere.

Carragher is decidedly not shy about voicing his opinion. Despite having minimal personal investment in most of the games they watch together, his emotions are always running hot, and he seems to spend more of the game jumping out of his seat or gesticulating at the players or squeaking about something than actually watching. He was fairly quiet, Gary remembers, when they watched Chelsea batter Hull on the opening weekend of the season, and again when City thrashed Newcastle on the first MNF, almost as though scoping out how much of a reaction he was allowed to give.

But it seems the first show loosened his tongue, or maybe just emboldened his nerve, because Carragher doesn’t hold back at all the next week.

He watches the entire United-Chelsea game on their second-ever MNF with a scowl every time United are on the ball, like the fact that they haven’t hit relegation form without Sir Alex is a personal affront. When Gary calls him on it, he merely responds with a bashful grin, but then proceeds to be effusive in his praise of Wazza after the final whistle anyways.

Liverpool sneak a 1-0 win past United the following week, and there’s a series of messages waiting for him after the game, a very biased cold commentary bookended on either side with clips of Anfield belting out that wretched song. Gary’s only saving grace is that at least they aren’t on MNF, meaning he doesn’t have to see Carragher’s reactions live.

When they are back on their next MNF, Carragher’s barely in his seat before he’s out again as Swansea hold Liverpool to their first draw of the season, and Gary forgives it only because he’s equally as honest about Liverpool’s frailty as a team and luck in having been gifted the point.

It’s the honesty that Gary likes most. Carragher is honest about his emotions, honest about his opinions, honest about his roots, honest about the fact that he’s a big fucking Scouser who played for Liverpool his whole career, and it’s refreshing, in an industry built on sanitized answers and double-talk and carefully staged drama, to be around someone as averse to bullshit as he is.

It’s also what scares him most, because it’s the honest ones who get chewed up and spit out first. Wearing your heart on your sleeve is one thing on the pitch, but it’s different in a studio, where you have to be clever with your eyes and your words and your suit, where deflecting is an art form and being interesting can be even more important than being right.

For the moment though, being right is mostly enough to make him interesting.

And doesn’t that just say something about the state of English punditry?

--

The first and last time Carragher asks his permission before an analysis, Gary’s both shocked out of his chair and strangely touched.

Mostly, he just stares at Carragher without knowing what to say. “You don’t need my permission to say something on air, you know,” Gary huffs finally. “Whether complimentary or not.”

They’re the only ones in the briefing room this early, everyone else having enough self-preservation to eke out a few more minutes of sleep before the day gets rolling. Gary doesn’t like to be still for too long, and Carragher seems determined to always get here before he does, so it’s become something of a habit of theirs. Usually, the time is spent exhausting the more uninteresting, juvenile remarks about the weekend’s results they’ve been holding on to, so that the real discussion can begin unimpeded after the rest of the team arrive, but today Carragher’s been worrying over something since the moment Gary walked in.

Apparently, it’s this.

There’s a pinched sort of half-scowl on his face, like the very idea of having to ask something like this tastes sour, but Carragher soldiers forward. “We’ve had some spirited debates—banter, if you like. But this is live TV, it’s not a dressing room, so I want to be sure I’m not crossing the line.”

Gary stares a little bit more. The explanation is as strangely touching as the initial question (Would you be okay with me taking the piss out of you tonight on the show?), because despite their so-far-successful efforts at some light-hearted banter, they aren’t mates, and what starts as a joke can quite easily turn into something a lot sharper. Especially when it’s going out to millions of people who can fashion any little dig into a stick and beat you with it for the rest of your life.

But. There are things he cares about a lot more than a few nasty Twitter mentions, and MNF is right up there.

“I think we’ve had a good energy on the show recently, where we can say what we’re really thinking and not have to worry about always playing nice,” Gary says, raising his eyebrows to turn the statement into a half-question.

“Absolutely,” Carragher agrees. “It’s genuine and free-flowing. No manufacturing.”

“Right. And I care a hell of a lot more about that continuing than I do about looking stupid for a few minutes. So take the piss all you want, as long as it’s constructive, as long as it adds to the show.”

Something seems to relax in the lines of Carragher’s face, and he leans back in his chair. The shift from serious to teasing is subtle, but Gary catches it instantly, and tries not to think about what that says. “Entertainment value adds to the show, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Gary accepts. He really hopes he isn’t going to regret this later.

“Great.” Carragher glances back down at his notes, seemingly content to let the conversation end there, but something about it doesn’t sit right with Gary.

“Listen, we’re equals on this show.” Carragher looks up so fast Gary’s surprised his neck doesn’t crick. “I meant it when I said you don’t have to get my approval to say something on air. Scott, maybe, if it’s something really out on a limb—but certainly not me. Same way I don’t plan to ask you first if I decide to lay into Liverpool tonight. As long as we stick to some ground rules—don’t slag off my family, don’t ever bring my kids into it, basic stuff—we’ll be good.”

It’s strange, seeing Carragher speechless. He doesn’t even react to the Liverpool mention, just sort of stares at him with wide, unblinking eyes. Gary can’t help but feel smug, and equally a tiny bit worried that he’s broken the man. He supposes it not every day your once-hated rival gives you a blank check to insult him on television.

Several long seconds later, Carragher finally blinks. “Okay. Agreed. Same here then—don’t mention me family, but anything else is fair game.” Then the corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “And don’t shit on Stevie.”

Which is how, of course, they end up debating Gerrard, Lampard, and Scholes that evening. (The loyalty isn’t surprising, and if anything it’s nice, looking across the table and seeing his own ferocity reflected right back, knowing there’ll be times when they won’t nail their colors to the mast but this absolutely isn’t one of them. There wasn’t a Scouser’s chance in Manchester that Carragher wouldn’t defend Gerrard to his last breath or that Gary wouldn’t wax lyrical about Scholesy, and it’s as close to a pub debate as they’re willing to get)

But first—

Fifty-three minutes later, as they’re going over topics for the first part of the show, Carragher says casually, “I’m thinking of doing a section on fullbacks. How it’s a makeshift position, and everyone who ends up there is either a failed centreback or a failed winger. After all”—Carragher gestures toward him, that glint in his eye, and Gary has just enough time to think oh here it comes—“no one wants to grow up and be a Gary Neville.”

The room erupts. Gary laughs just as hard as the rest and knows they’re going to keep that no matter what else they get to during the show. He’s absolutely certain that rehearsed and delivered right, that line is going to be iconic one day.

Would you be okay with me taking the piss out of you tonight?

As the laughter tails off, Gary says out loud, “You were worried about that? I’ve heard a lot worse, I guarantee you”, and Carragher spreads his hands as if to say yeah, alright, just wanted to be sure. They play it off, and the discussion moves on.

But Gary also gives him a subtle nod when Carragher meets his eyes, an acknowledgement mixed with a little sliver of gratitude. That Carragher was willing to check where the line was before coming within a yard of it—it’s a sign of respect he wasn’t expecting, especially not from England’s most passionate Scouser.

--

Gary is aware that he has a micromanaging streak a mile wide. He’s also aware that most everybody working on MNF does, too, and the only reason they all manage to make it work is because they micromanage different aspects of the production to make sure the show on Monday night is the best football content out there. Now two years in, Gary can mostly let Scott and Duncan and Ed and all the rest do their jobs without feeling that itch at the bottom of his spine, like it won’t be right unless he checks it over himself first.

Carragher is a new unknown into that mix. He’s not a micromanager by any stretch of the imagination, shows minimal interest in any part of the production that isn’t the actual talking about football bit, but when it does come to the football, he’s as stubborn as anyone Gary’s ever known. Maybe as stubborn as Gary himself.

So it’s with a vague notion of good intentions, but mostly just trying to figure out if Carragher is going to be able to cope with his exacting standards, that Gary finally messages him to arrange a somewhat overdue one-on-one meeting. Nothing too formal, just a pint after we get in on Sunday evening? he writes.

Not even two minutes later, the response comes back: Sure.

Gary picks one of the smaller, more secluded pubs in London, far enough outside of Osterley that there’s very little risk they’ll run into anyone else from Sky. He can’t quite explain why that’s important, but it feels like it is. Neither of them can afford to get anywhere close to pissed with a show tomorrow, so the fact that this particular place serves half-decent food is also a plus.

Carragher comes in a few minutes after he does, and slides neatly into the seat on the opposite side of the table. “Evening, Gary.”

It’s quite possibly the first time Carragher has greeted him with an actual, proper salutation rather than a football question, and it catches him more by surprise than if he’d opened with can’t believe youse lost to West Brom yesterday.

Luckily—“Evening. You alright?” comes out before he really even needs to think about it, those well-drilled manners at work once again.

They each order food, and a drink that’s more water than alcohol, before Carragher broaches the elephant in the room.

“So what’re we doing today, Gary? Right now, it’s looking an awful lot like you’re trying to go steady with me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Gary retorts, but grins. The papers would be tripping over themselves to cover that story, he’s sure. Tale of two reds: the remarkable journey from rivals to lovers. “The missus would probably have something to say about that, to be fair.”

“She’d probably be pleased! I know mine would be. Rid of me at last.” There’s a glint in Carragher’s eye that he’s familiar with now, an edge that says he’s not only expecting a dig but actually hoping for one.

Gary is drawn into the banter despite himself, and it’s another ten minutes, knee-deep into a conversation about their worst-ever haircuts (Gary picks his middle-part floppy mop from back in the day, while Carragher admits, “All of mine were shite, really”), that he remembers they have actual business to discuss.

“Right. Coming back to the point then. How’ve the first few weeks been for you?”

“Good. Yeah. An adjustment, of course, but it’s been good.”

“Great.” Gary pauses, debating how to frame this conversation, and Carragher’s eyes narrow.

“I’ve been in a dressing room long enough to know what this is. Go on, Gary, me skin’s thick enough.”

“Okay.” He takes a breath. What did he wish someone would’ve told him at the start, no coddling, no bullshitting? “Punditry isn’t just about talking football. I think you already know that. It’s as ruthless a business as football, maybe more, because there’s only—what, ten, maybe fifteen pundits on TV regularly? You’re one of them at this moment in time, but they’ll sack you tomorrow if they think there’s someone who could do it better.”

Carragher’s gaze holds his steadily, sharp and attentive, and it emboldens Gary to keep going.

“I can tell you know your football. Your preparation’s good, though I’m sure it’ll get better, and you remember shit most mothers would’ve forgotten about their own kids’ games, which is a nice bonus.”

Carragher smiles. Gary exaggerates rolling his eyes.

“But what I’m trying to say is, just the football isn’t enough. You’re not in the results business anymore. You’re in the entertainment business. The score at the end of a show matters a lot less than how well you played to get there.” It’s not the cleanest way he can think to make the point, but Carragher nods immediately.

“I get that. I’m a football man, not a TV personality.” He runs a hand through his hair, which sits a bit mussed and scraggly on top of his head, as if to illustrate the point. There’ll be product in that tomorrow night, and almost certainly a comb, and Carragher seems to know it. Nobody cared what his hair looked like on the pitch, but a large part of entertainment is all about glamour. “Can’t change who I am, or the way I talk”—there’s the faintest tinge of anger in his voice, and Gary files that away to ask about later—“but I get it.”

“I made sure they didn’t give you a light gray suit, so you should be alright, really,” Gary says lightly, offering him an out, because he knows Carragher watches everything, reads everything, is across everything, and won’t miss the reference.

Sure enough, Carragher laughs. But he then levels Gary with a look far too serious to be about suits and horrible style. “I do know you’ve been looking out for me since I come to Sky. You didn’t have to do that after”—Carragher waves his arms in a way that’s clearly meant to capture their whole twisted history to this point, between United and Liverpool and England—“well, everything.”

“If you’re about to thank me—”

“If that’s what you’re expecting, you’re about to be very disappointed,” Carragher cuts back, but he looks relieved. The unsaid thank you is still in his eyes, in his fiddling hands, in the way he will pick up their tab later that night and put them both in a taxi to the hotel, but it’s better left unsaid.

Gary takes a sip of his drink, groaning when it tastes like slightly-sweetened ice water. He says, “I wanted to make sure you had a smooth start. MNF means a lot to me. To Sky, too, but to me personally. Regardless of who’s on, it needs to be the best show out there week after week.” He takes another sip. The flavor, if it could even be called that, is growing on him. “But moving forward, the training wheels come off. And the expectations are only going to rise. Are you prepared for that?”

“I never moved club, so I haven’t been on the receiving end of this conversation before. But I’ve given it many times. This is one of the biggest football clubs in the world. When you walk through those doors, be willing to work harder than you ever have before. We play to win every game. Don’t ever let your standards drop.” Carragher shakes his head, as if clearing away loose memories. “I know what it means to strive for perfection every week.”

A pause. Carragher blinks, long and slow.

“Sky are my team now,” Carragher says, and Gary takes a minute to parse that.

He thinks of how Carragher played for Liverpool when Liverpool were his team, last-ditch tackles and ceaseless shouting and that final in Istanbul, and simply goes, “Yeah, alright.”

If he brings even half that intensity to this job at Sky, Gary decides, his exacting standards and Carragher will probably get along just fine.

Carragher smiles, and raises his glass. “Cheers, Gary.”

He hesitates for one, two, three heartbeats, then follows suit. “Cheers, Jamie.”

Something flashes across Jamie’s face, there and gone before Gary can figure out exactly what it is, but he knows what it’s in response to.

Jamie still tastes new in his mouth when he isn’t saying it in front of the cameras, but it’s right. A month is long enough to dwell on past conflict, and they’ve now broken bread together in the only way that matters to gruff ex-footballers above thirty—sharing a drink, reaching a tentative understanding, and nearly slipping into a moment of genuine emotional vulnerability. It’s enough.

(He did use to be Jamie before, those few times they were on the pitch bleeding for the same shirt, because Carragher is a real mouthful to shout when you’re running back toward your own goal with an entire forward line breathing down your neck. But they’re relearning each other now, and this is another of the many things Gary finds is easier this second time around)

#carraville #gary neville #jamie carragher #*fic #*writing

[moxfirefly]

Okay okay okay I have something. You are so good at writing tmnt so here it goes. What about... Make up sex? ;) I imagine how there has been a huge fight with their girl. So much so that the turtles thought it would lead to breakup. But the SO returns and it ultimately leads to some angsty action. Of course you can imagine it however you want too! Make up your own reasons if need be!!

As somebody who breathes angst this is truly fun. You didn’t specify a turt lad so I hope you don’t mind me choosing and going from there. Just cause I’m intrigued ima go with my orange boi.

TW: Angst/Feels/Arguments

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

His hands hurt so much. When you ball your fists for too long the tendons tend to protest, the digging of nails into palms stings.

Mikey doesn’t like how loud his head feels right now. He sits against the wall closest to his tv, your scent is surrounding him and it only serves to make him more frustrated and gutted. The two of you have never gone past discussion into full blow arguing. He doesn’t like to fight with you, he does enough fighting on a nightly bases anyways.

But you got stubborn and he got selfish. Voices got raised, things were said and each one got hurt. He knows he can’t keep you glued to his shell forever, he’s had to learn the hard way, that there’s a life above that you inhabit and people around he’ll never truly meet. He knows every detail about your home life, knows your mother’s maiden name, how your aunt likes to get drunk at the family reunions and spill gossip. He knows your childhood home’s street name, the first guy you kissed, the first girl you kissed. Every aspect of your life you have told him in confidence, in laughter, in tears.

But Mikey is never gonna be part of it. He can’t really meet your dad and have that ‘if you break her heart I’ll break your legs’ talk. He won’t bond with your mom over their mutual love of cooking and secretly become her confidant. Knowing all these people but never truly knowing them is something he accepts.

It’s you leaving for three months back home. Three months away from him, three months where you’ll be surrounded by nostalgia you miss and love. Where your family will ask about ‘any boyfriends?’ and you’ll have to fake laugh your way through it. Three months of you being amongst people you constantly miss.

Surrounded by normalcy.

And Mikey wanted to be happy for you, he wanted to say fuck it and face time you every morning and night, watch you be happy to be in your hometown and maybe even get a virtual tour of it...

But that little dark part in his brain calls him a freak and reminds him constantly that you’ll get tired of surrounding yourself in craziness, monsters, end of the world scenarios etc. It just can’t seem to allow him to be happy for you. So the entire thing had ended in a fight, where dumb regretful things had been spat and you had marched off pissed and he had remained here equally pissed.

His brothers think he doesn’t get mad, they think he holds himself together through sheer ignorant bliss but it’s never been the case. Cause you’ve seen fire in his pretty blue eyes, you’ve seen those same very pretty blue eyes turn red with tear, you’ve seen so much of what he hides behind his laughter.

And fuck, three months of you away?!

Mikey pushes his knees up against his chest and sighs. His phone hasn’t made a noise despite his efforts to try and call you after he has calmed down. He debated going to your house and apologizing or at least going for a more calmer approach in expressing why this had left him so triggered. He wants to make sure this hasn’t pushed you both to your end, another nagging little thought that hasn’t quite shut its mouth.

Had this been the end? Had you walked out in a fury of frustration and decided this is it? Would you seize all communication and just erase the memories of him and your time together?

He’s hurting himself, he’s also getting angrier. This is stupid, he’s been stupid and immature and so are you for walking off!

It’s two hours before he decides to get up and toss his phone and try to consume his surrounding in order to relax. Mind over matter and all it’s wonderful bullshit. He doesn’t want to leave his room cause he knows the others must’ve heard.

He’s four hours deep into a shooting game when Raph pokes his head in with some food. He doesn’t look up, cause he knows Raph wants to be a good big brother and talk to him but he doesn’t want to when he’s one unfortunate mishandling away from crying. He lets him sit with him, watch him play and run a little bit of commentary that actually makes him smile just a teeny bit.

Even when Raph gets up and runs a large mitt over his head and tells him ‘broads are just emotional, she’ll come around’ he tries his best to not let his eyes betray him. Even when Raph gives the top of his head a kiss and pats his shell, he tries his best to keep it together.

It’s around 4am when he decides to look for his phone, chucked somewhere near his bed and maybe not broken. He finds it under his bed, screen a little cracked and one text message reading ‘r u awake?’ By you, it was sent twenty minutes ago and somewhere between debating calling or texting he hears the curtain in his room move.

You’re there.

Face two parts unreadable and a good topping of frustrated. Your face is bare, a mixture of sleepwear and winter clothing that clearly shows you had tried to sleep it off but couldn’t. “I just saw this... sorry” Mikey wonders if that sorry is related to the unread text or more so this mess. You look away, the energy around you can be felt. That upset way you bite the inside of your lip, how you cross your arms and run through every possible way of starting your side of things to say.

“Why are you really mad about me going back home?” You can’t meet his gaze and Mikey is thankful because he feels an oncoming headache. “I dunno man...” He sets his phone on his makeshift night table and runs his hands through his face, mask being taken off with the motion.

“That’s not an answer, you’re mad about something and I want to know” This time you do look and Mikey’s playing with the shoe string on one of the sneakers that hangs from the bunk bed. He chooses to stay quiet because if he does say something, what are the chances that you’ll understand?

“Mike, talk to me” He huffs a bitter laugh, ‘Mike’ is the he’s in trouble name. But he feels more obstinate than ever because why talk?

He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his feet. “I didn’t come back in the freezing cold to actually work through this if you aren’t going to throw me a bone at least-” Your tone is a mix of exasperation and sadness. “You go back and you forget about me” Mikey cuts through.

You furrow your brows at his statement. “What?” You take a few steps but he side steps you and that somehow cuts you. “You go back home and you realize it’s better to be in a normal environment that isn’t New York, in the sewers, with me-“ He motions to all of him. “And all the crazy shit we do” He glares, not necessarily at you but more so at all of this, the current state of affairs.

Running a frustrated hand through your hair you try to settle your thoughts. “You can’t jump to a conclusion like that and you know it, I’m not skulking off back home and ghosting you! And frankly it fucking hurts you think of me like that” You reach for him because Mikey can’t be still for five seconds if his life depended on it, but he grabs your hands and refuses to let you lull him with your touch. “It’s not a conclusion it’s a friggin possibility! Do you see us actually being endgame in all this shit!” He grips your wrists, you want to get through to him but he’s lost in that terrible negative mindset.

“We both aren’t mind readers! But trust me that leaving you is nowhere on my list of achievements” You manage out of his grip and grasp his face. “You are being unfair and stubborn as fuck but I love you okay?” Your voice sounds almost angry, angry at the very idea of living in a world where you and him don’t coexist together.

“I can’t even marry you! I can’t even knock you up!” Another bitter laugh escapes him, he knows your parents would die for some grandkids. Why is he so different, why does he have to be so fucking different he wonders bitterly.

“I don’t care, I don’t fucking care about a piece of paper or screaming babies, I care about you and I want you and I’m fucking happy with you stop sabotaging it” You press your hands to his hard plastron and scowl. “Stop lying to me then! Don’t pity lie at me when I know you want all that shit” He frowns, eyes watery and not caring if he wakes everybody up in the Lair.

Mikey’s ready for the rant of a life time but then you have to go and kiss him.

Kiss him hard, kiss him with rage bubbling on the skin of your lips. He can taste your words, taste every way you would’ve shut down his words with basic truth and facts. You pull away, forehead still pressed to his and you mutter against his lips. “You’re so fucking insufferable, shut up and listen to me” Your eyes are watery as is, hands at his neck to keep him at eye level.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much” You take a shuttering inhale, fingers skimming up towards his cheeks. Mikey can only watch you, take in every detail he’s been obsessed with for so long. You’re so beautiful to him, even when your angry crying, yelling at him to open his eyes. You’re warm and real in front of him, against his body. You watch his eyes go from that calm before the storm into the aftermath.

He’s so real to you, so lovely and he doesn’t seem to understand it.

There’s a pause. A mere ten second reprieve where only silence and breathing remain. Mikey feels your hands slowly slide down his body, nails scratching his sides. You keep your eyes on him, a hand slides into his shorts, index finger mapping out the slit that encompasses his most intimate part. Mikey shudders, sensitivity racking his body at your touch. He walks you up against a wall, a hand on your neck and another finding it’s way into your own pants.

He teases you, just as you tease him. Knees buckle when he pushes your lips apart and feels your moistening folds. There’s already a bump where your touching him and the way he’s tensing gives way to how he’s trying to hold himself in. “Come on, come on” You weren’t aware just how hard you’ve been breathing till you speak. Mikey’s mouths falls open, eyes closing as he drops down into your warm awaiting hand. You stroke him, teasing the flesh of his head just to make him buck and recapture your lips. His own finger finds its way in you, stretching and making your breath hitch.

The only reason you both pull away is to tear at one another’s clothes, an easy accomplishment when Mikey’s got just his shorts. He isn’t soft with your clothing either, yanking and nearly tearing, his on his knees pulling off your underwear. Your scent hits him and he’s gone, trapped in all that is you. He inhales sharply as he gets back on his feet, arms hooking under your thighs as he picks you up.

You both land on the bed, a huff escaping you and a grunt when Mikey feels you push him so you can straddle him. You don’t quite finesse this, it’s not your usual seductive ways that leave him a mess. It’s rough, there’s still frustration lingering in the air and Mikey’s okay with it because he knows he might go to rough if he runs the show.

So you do.

Sinking down on his hard cock with a long guttural moan. Mikey digs his fingers onto the plush skin of your bottom, just enough to make you sit on his cock and relish it. Eyes closed he just basks, the tightness, the wetness, the warmth. His eyes flutter open when he feels your palms on his plastron, firm and with purpose. His hands know already, they go up and rest on your waist and he swallows a churr when your hips begin to move fast and hard.

That rhythmic slapping of flesh, your rear hitting his lap on each thrust down. Mikey can’t stop churring, eyes on your own or slipping down to your beautiful breasts bouncing. You notice and lean forward, he buries his face between him, arm going around your waist as he lifts his hips to help you cross that line. The sweat of your skin is on the top of his tongue as he sucks a bruise onto your breast, you’re tightening up so much, cussing and begging for him.

You both can’t stop moaning, once you’re cummin and Mikey follows closely behind. He holds you close to him as you ride out the sensations, tightly secured against his strong body, held and loved. You’re a broken record of ‘I love you’s and so is he, filling you up and up.

Collapsed on top of him, chest heaving, you still feel the strength in his arms as he hugs you to him. You bury your face on his neck, body shaking with sobs as he whispers he’s sorry over and over as he kisses your shoulder, neck and head.

You say it too, against his skin.

Where you wish you could stay everyday.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt michelangelo x female reader #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt michelangelo #mikey tmnt #tmnt mikey #michelangelo x reader #mikey x reader #Mikey #Michelangelo #smut prompt #ns*w #ask #bumbleburn

[sunlight-moonrise]

Satisfied Curiosity (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Bartender!Reader does everything she can to get the cute FBI agent’s attention. 

A/N: This wasn’t suppose to be so long or late, but my mind got the best of me. Big Thanks to @spencer-reid-in-a-pool and @reidetic​​ for being amazing Betas (you guys are precious!). This story would be utterly unintelligible without them. Also thank you to everyone who showed love to my first fic. I didn’t expect for it to receive half of the attention it was given. I’m super grateful and I hope to provide more for you all. Enjoy!

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Sexting, Oral (Male Receiving), Fingering, Penetrative Sex, Rough Sex, Degradation

Word Count: 9.1K (sorry, not sorry)

Masterlist

I’d like to think that I’m able to read people pretty well. Since working as a bartender for the past five years, I can examine an individual and have their personality down pat. Facial expressions, body language, posture, gestures. All these things are basically words to a story that I am able to put together.

My thought process was cut off when I noticed these two guys sitting at the end of the bar. I regarded them momentarily. They don’t look like the typical bar patron, their clothing a little too unseemly for a place like this. They were surveying the area as if looking for something. 

I got a side profile of the tan Hispanic man. He had dark curly hair and trimmed facial hair. He was talking lowly to the man he was sitting with, their eyes still skimming all over their surroundings. I couldn’t get a good look at the other guy since his back was to me.

They sat tall, their bodies alert to any movement. It was as if it was their first time at a bar, but I know they were not uncomfortable here. There were no jittery movements from what I can see; no telltale signs that they were nervous. They also were not paying much attention to the people around them, focusing more on random spots within the place. Weird. Are they inspectors? Nah, that can’t be. Drew always gives us a heads up when visitors come. Plus, we got checked a few weeks ago.

The two finally turned towards my direction, and I was able to see the other guy. Wow, he was hot. Like very hot. Loose brown curls sat wildly on his head, looking as if he just rolled out of bed. He had a light stubble going on, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw. Damn, I bet I’d cut myself just touching it. He had a beautiful pair of pink lips. I quickly turned my attention to his left hand, noticing the lack of a ring. No wife, good. Now I need to make sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend or fiancée waiting for him at home.

I trailed my eyes upward, noticing that he was staring at me as well. I felt my face heat up when I saw him smirk. Damn, he caught me checking him out. His companion was also looking at me expectantly. They probably have been trying to get my attention for a while now, most likely to order some drinks. I made my way towards them, smoothing my hands over my jeans.

“Evening fellas, would you like to see a menu?” I asked as I placed some napkins in front of them.

“No thanks, but my partner and I would like to ask you some questions…” said the Hispanic man with a small pause. He quickly looked at my name tag before looking back at me “…(Y/N)”

The fuck? Partners? I didn’t think they were a couple. I did a quick glance over at them. Two Alpha males in a relationship rarely ever work out. They were not physically close to one another either. Sigh, you always fall for the ones you can’t get.

I didn’t answer them, still mentally distraught over this taken man. I’m sure they took my silence as confusion because the Hispanic man went on to explain, “I’m Luke Alvez and this here is Dr. Spencer Reid,” they flashed their badges, showing me some credentials. “We’re with the FBI.” Oh. I glanced toward Dr. Reid, a smile tugging on my lips. Score, we’re back in business.

I figured I might be here for a while so I got myself comfortable. Well, as comfortable as I can get standing behind a bar. I leaned towards them, my hands resting on the bar top. “Well, in that case, fire away.”

“Have you noticed any males here who arrived by themselves? This man likely sits alone, only interacts with women. He presents himself as a charming gentleman. His head would be facing downwards if he were sitting at the bar and he would probably wear some kind of hat to shield himself,” asked Luke.

“That’s roughly 50% of my male patrons, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Yea, I should have figured that is not much to go by.”

I turned my attention back to the doctor who has yet to say a word, noticing that he was once again looking at random spots around the bar. “Your friend here is awfully quiet.”

At my comment, Spencer finally looked at me. I am sure that time stopped as his honey-colored eyes stared deeply into my own. If it wouldn’t come off strange, I’d stared at them all day.

He eventually turned away from me, “This place has a lot of blind spots.” He pointed to one corner by the back and another near the billiards table. It took a moment for me to comprehend what he was saying since I was distracted by the sound of his voice. He could probably recite Shakespeare and I’d think it was erotica.

He continued talking, oblivious of my swooning. “The man we are looking for does not want to be seen, he’ll know where to be so that the camera can’t spot him. He’ll likely bring the woman he’s talking to there or even over there,” he pointed to another spot, this time it was a small crook partially hidden behind a wall.

“The area by the restroom entrance also has no camera at all so he’ll possibly spend some time there as well,” he finished.

“I’d think I’ll notice some creep hanging near the bathrooms all night,” I remarked. “However, we have a security room in the back if you want to look over some footage.” I pointed to a door opposite the kitchen’s entrance.

“That’ll be very useful, thanks,” Luke reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He turned to Spencer saying “I’ma call Garcia, see if she can run some facial recognition on this guy.” With that, he walked to the security room.

I focused my attention back on Spencer, hoping he’ll stay here a bit longer. “May I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” he said, the damn smirk on his face once again. Smartass. 

“Haha, I’m serious,” He didn’t say anything, which I took as my cue to continue. “What exactly does someone like you do in the FBI?”

“Someone like me?” he repeated.

“Well, you do not look like a typical agent,” I stated, and he just raised a single eyebrow at me. “Not to say that you’re probably bad at your job. I’m sure that you’re amazing at whatever it is that you do. I’d just like to know exactly what it is. Like what does your job entail…” Great, out of all times for my motor mouth to talk off, it chose this moment.

Spencer didn’t say anything and the awkward pause was killing me. I wanted to grab his gun and shoot myself in the foot. He probably thought I was insulting him. He continued to watch me as I fidgeted under his stare.

Finally, he decided to show me some mercy. “I use psychology to profile and find people,” he put it simply.

“That’s it?” I questioned.

“Pretty much,” he stated evenly, focusing his attention on the napkin in front of him. His body was slightly tenser than before, telling me that he was uncomfortable. I decided to drop the topic.

I scanned his being in an attempt to find something, anything that would allow me to continue talking to him. He beat me to it. “Which Sherlock portrayal are you a fan of?”

I was momentarily confused as to how he knew I was a fan. “Um, I started watching BBC’s Sherlock but I find the books to be much more interesting than the show. Are you a fan?”  

“Of the books, yes. I haven’t had the chance to watch any of the series or films. I always find that reading offers a better experience. That’s a nice pin you have by the way.” 

Pin? I looked down and remembered my “I am Sherlocked” pin clasped next to my name tag. Gosh, I feel like an idiot. Just when I was going to reply, I saw Luke stepping out of the security room. 

I turned back towards Spencer, who was digging his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a card and gave it to me. “The number of the precinct we are helping is on here. If you have any further information, you should contact them.”

What, no. I don’t want him to leave yet. “But what if I want to talk to you more?”

“My number is on the back.” I flipped the card around and was greeted by a ten-digit code sprawled out in blue ink.

A smile adorned my face as I looked back at him. “How did you do that?” There’s not even a pen near his hands. Unless he carries all these cards with his number on it, which I severely doubt.

“You ask a lot of questions,” he stated.

“I’m a naturally curious person.”

He paused for a moment to dart his tongue across his lips. He made sure to look into my eyes before saying “You know that curiosity killed the cat.”

“But satisfaction brought it back.”

He gave a low laugh, “Touché.”

Just then Luke walked back to us, his phone to his ear. “C’mon man. The team needs us back at the station. There’s been another victim.” 

“We’ll talk later,” Spencer said to me. My heart skipped a beat at his words. I felt like a kid who had a childhood crush.

Spencer got up and with one last glance at my direction, the two of them headed out the door.

Well, there goes the best part of my day. I’m being selfish wishing that he would have stayed behind. The man is here to find a criminal, not get his dick sucked. I folded the card and slid it into my pocket before grabbing a rag. These shot glasses aren’t going to clean themselves.

●The Next Day●

I spent the last few hours debating on whether or not I should text Spencer. I tried to distract myself with mundane activities. I watched TV, did my chores, even attempted to read a book, but nothing kept my interest. I grabbed the card that was sitting idly on my dresser, pondering on what to do.

You shouldn’t. But I’m bored and he’s cute. He’s an FBI agent for crying out loud. He got important things to do. What’s the worst that can happen? You could get arrested for obstruction of justice. Or I can get closer to him and find out more about him.

It is settled. I added Spencer’s number to my contacts and perched myself on my bed before sending a short text.

‘Hello Dr. Reid.’ I waited a minute, then two, then three, anxiously hoping for a response back. This was a bad idea, he’s probably at another bar trying to catch this guy. I should just delete his number and make myself a sandwich.

Right when I was going to do just that, my phone vibrated. I never opened my messages so fast in my life.

‘(Y/N). Is everything okay?’

A smile broke across my face as I pondered on what to send him. Should I keep everything cute and sweet? Nah. That’s boring. Should I send some salacious texts? No, he’ll probably think I am some kind of skank. Perhaps I should go for the playful persona?

I finally decided to type out a message, not wanting him to wait any longer. I don’t need him thinking that I’m in actual danger because I don’t know how to respond to a simple text.

‘I’m more than okay now that you’re here.’

I didn’t have to wait long before his next text came in. ‘Is there something that you need?’

Oh Spencer, if only you knew. However, what I want cannot be attained at the moment. I quickly typed across my keypad, ‘That’s a loaded question.’

Apparently he did not like that since his next reply was, ‘I don’t have time for this. I am working right now.’

Well shit, should I stop? Hell no, we are in too deep. Besides, he could always choose to ignore my messages instead of responding. And he did give me his number instead of just leaving me with the precinct’s. With that in mind, I typed out a text and quickly pressed send before I started second-guessing my choices again.

‘So you don’t want to talk to me?’

Again, I didn’t have to wait long for his next message to come through. ‘You should only contact me if you have information pertinent to the man we are looking for.’

That’s bullshit. Why give me your number if you didn’t want me to talk to you? ‘You said we’ll continue the conversation later. It’s later.’

‘Later, When I am not working.’ he clarified.

If I were a smart girl, I would have left this alone so that he could work peacefully. But I’m not. ‘All work and no play makes for a grumpy doctor. Don’t you want some entertainment?’

‘You’re acting childish.’

I couldn’t help but grin at his statement. If only he knew. Well, I could drop him a hint or two. ‘I’ve been compared to a brat before.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘I’m a glutton for punishment, agent.’

‘Do you want me to deliver?’

My breath caught in my throat. Could it be? Does Dr. Reid have a darker side to him? Or maybe I’m reading too deeply into this. I don’t care, I’m having too much fun at the possibility of this man having a more unhinged side to him. I wanted to see it. I decided to be cheeky with him, ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you Sir.’

‘What are you trying to get at?’ One step forward and two steps back. I guess profiling and mind-reading are not one and the same if he has to ask me this. Or maybe he isn’t used to someone asking him to dick them down without outright saying they want him to dick them down.

‘I said it already, I just want to talk to you.’

It took a couple of minutes for his reply to come through. ‘We’ll talk later.’

I decided to give Spencer a break. I got what I wanted with his earlier comment. I ended everything with an ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ and put my phone down. I looked at the clock on my bedside table and saw that an hour had passed. I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun. I might as well start getting ready for work.

●●●

Four hours into my shift and the crowd near the bar was barely manageable. I’m not a big fan of working Friday evenings. I easily get annoyed with the sloppy drunks who think they could hook up with any of the workers but the tips usually make up for it at the end of the night.

I was grabbing some bottles of beer when all of a sudden I got a twisted feeling in my gut. I felt the hairs in the back of my neck stand up, and not in a good way. Call it a sixth sense, but I suspected that something was wrong, very wrong. I placed the bottles down and looked at the countless customers littered around the bar top. My eyes landed on this man who was giving off some creepy vibes.

I’d like to think I had a pretty good memory and this guy was definitely new. He was hunched over, eyes looking at the menu on the table. He was rapidly tapping his finger on top of the table, so I assumed he was feeling uneasy. Every once in a while, his head would peek up, as if he was searching the crowd for someone. He had a baseball cap on, the hat pressed tightly down on his head, his blond hair barely peeking through.  

From what I can see he was attractive enough. A full-on beard decorated his face. He had on a leather jacket and a fitted shirt; seemingly trying to give off bad boy vibes. I started making my way towards him, “Is there anything you’d like to order?”

“That depends, are you on the menu?” Ugh. Gag. If I had a dollar for every time some Casanova wannabe used that line on me, I could pay for two months of my rent. He had a smile on his face that could be charismatic but I just found it downright disturbing.

“Food and drinks only. Sorry to disappoint.”

“That’s fine sweetheart, I’ll have whatever beer y’all got on tap.” As I walked away, I could feel his eyes leering at me. Should I text Spencer? No, I dealt with creeps before, this is nothing new. 

I turned back to where Mr. Creepy Guy was previously sitting but he was no longer occupying the seat. Fuck. I took a look around the crowded pub, hoping to spot him. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you see it, I did. He was near the bathroom entrance talking to some girl who hardly looked like she could keep herself up.

Shit, I should get Spencer right now. I pondered on whether I should call him but figured that he wouldn’t be able to hear me over the volume of the crowd. I hurriedly pull my phone out of my pocket, trying my best to send the message as fast as my shaky hands can manage.

‘I’m pretty sure the man you’re looking for is here. You should bring some officers ASAP.’

Come on, Come on, Come on, have your cell on you. My phone vibrated, alerting me of a message. Oh thank god yes. ‘Are you serious?’ it read.

What the? Does he think I’m pranking him or something? I angrily typed on my screen, ‘This isn’t exactly something I will joke about Spencer.’

‘We’ll be there soon’ came his simple response. Okay, good. Now I just need to make sure that this guy doesn’t try to escape.

I looked back up and saw Mr. Creepy Guy still near the restrooms. One of his hands was holding on to the girl’s arm and I just knew he was trying to get her out of here. Spencer and company won’t arrive fast enough. I have to do something to make him stay longer.

I turned to my co-bartender, Manny, “I am going to take a 10 minute break.” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I opened the small door dividing us from the crowd and made my way to Mr. Creepy Guy.

Once I got to the two of them, I spewed the first thing that came to mind, “Uh, excuse me. You um, forgot your drink. You know, the beer. That you ordered. At the bar earlier. About 10 minutes ago.” God, I looked like an idiot, but I couldn’t risk saying something that made him apprehensive.

Mr. Creepy guy sneered at me, “Yeah. I didn’t want it anymore.” Well, who shit in your cereal, mister. Oh right, that would be me. I gotta keep him a bit more distracted.

“Well if you order something, you gotta pay for it. Bar’s policy.” He continued to glare at me upset that I was being a cockblocker. Or more appropriately a murderblocker. Realizing that I wasn’t going away soon, he pulled a bill from his pocket before throwing it at me.  Wow I wonder where his pleasant attitude disappeared to.

I turned my attention to this poor girl and noticed she wasn’t looking too good. I assumed she was drunk but she looked way off it; as if she had been drugged or something.

Fucking hell, she probably has been. She can’t stand on her own two feet and she could barely stop her eyes from drooping downwards.

“Your friend here doesn’t look too good,” I commented, my hand already going towards the arm he wasn’t currently holding on to.

“She’s fine. We were just about to leave, right Sarah?” he asked the girl. ‘Sarah’ didn’t say a word, too busy trying her best to not crash down on the floor.

“Nonsense, we can’t have you leaving in such a state, it would look bad on us,” I improvised. “We’ll give her something real quick to help sober her up.” I hastily scanned the room, spotting Hannah, one of my coworkers, a few feet away.

“Hey Hannah,” I shouted, garnering her attention. I gestured for her to come here and she started walking over. When she stood in front of us, I pried ‘Sarah’ out of Mr. Creepy Guy’s hold and gently ushered her into Hannah’s arms.

“This is Sarah and she’s not feeling all that well. Can you tell Manny to give her the Queen’s special?” Hannah instantly knew what was up. The Queen’s special is our code name for helping those who we believe are in an uncomfortable or dangerous situation. Most of the time, the person is coherent enough to ask for help, but for these kinds of scenarios we’ll have to rely on our own wits.

The two walked, or in Sarah’s case, stumbled away. Hannah managed to give Mr. Creepy Guy a glare which he openly returned in my direction. I gave him a small smile, hoping he didn’t get suspicious and try to leave.

“She’ll be right back, would you like that beer while you wait?” I asked. 

“No, you did enough,” He jeered, taking slow steps back. I could have sworn he muttered ‘fucking bitch’ as he disappeared in the crowd, no doubt hightailing it out of here.

Crap, I should follow him. At least I’ll be able to tell the cops what direction he went or what his license plate number is. I started walking to the exit, shoving my way through the sweaty mass of people.

Once I got to the door, I pushed it open feeling the cool air hit my face. I looked around, trying to see if I could find Mr. Creepy Guy but to no avail. I walked a few steps down, searching to see if he went down an alley or something.

The place was eerily quiet and my nerves were starting to get the best of me. I suddenly felt a hand roughly grab my shoulder and let out an ear-piercing scream. I whirled around, my hand already in a fist to punch the living daylight out of this person.

Right when my hand was going to make contact, a hand closed around my fist. No problem, I’ll just kick you in the shin. My leg was about to leave the ground when I heard a stern “Calm down (Y/N).”

I know that voice. For the first time, I looked up and saw that it was Spencer behind me. I never realized beforehand how easily he towered over my form. He released my hand and I leaned my body against the wall next to me. The adrenaline from earlier leaving me.

“What the fuck Spencer, a little warning next time,” I angrily shouted at him. “You could have said my name before grabbing me or just tapped my shoulder. I don’t like being manhandled.”

“I severely doubt that,” he whispered. Wait, what. “Is the man still inside?” he asked in a louder voice than before.

“Um no. That’s the reason why I came out here. I was trying to find where he went.”

“And you decided to check an alleyway.” I casted my eyes down, paying attention to a piece of gravel on the floor. The tone of voice he was using made me feel as if I was in trouble. “Do you know what kind of danger you just put yourself in?  What if it was him behind you instead of me just now?” he chastised.

“I was fighting back,” I retorted.

“And you were losing that fight. You had no weapon of any kind to help defend yourself. You are no match for a fully grown male who sees girls like you as nothing but property,” Spencer snapped.

I felt miffed that he was scolding me about my safety but a pathetic part of me was turned on as well. I decided to switch this conversation back to what was important. “He’s a Caucasian man. About 5’9 with dirty blonde hair and facial hair. He had a Salem Red Sox cap and a faux black leather jacket. Burgundy henley shirt with black washed jeans and white Adidas,” I recounted from my memory.

He recited everything word for word into his radio. “Go back inside, we’ll take care of it from here.”

“You’re fucking welcome by the way,” I sarcastically stated. Before I could blink, Spencer slammed his hands on either side of my head and was staring intently into my eyes. I felt my heart rate pick up instantly. I didn’t know whether to be scared or horny so my body decided on both.

He had a carnal look in his eyes and I felt a light shiver run down my spine. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. It was as if it happened in slow motion, my eyes hungrily following the movement. He opened his mouth to speak and I was eagerly anticipating his words.

“Reid, come in. We need you for backup.” What the..? It was then that I noticed his comms were still on and one of his team members was trying to get his attention.

“Go back inside,” Spencer repeated, “We’ll continue this later.” Yeah fucking right. This is the third time you’ve told me this in the thirty hours I’ve known you. Nevertheless, I obeyed but it wasn’t because he told me; it was because I got paid by the hour and I was already gone for over fifteen minutes. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as I walked back inside.

I turned around to get a glimpse of his retreating form but he was already gone.

●●●

It was past midnight and I had about forty-five minutes left until my shift ended. The place was a lot emptier right now, which is pretty shocking. However, I’m guessing no one wanted to be around and get wasted when the cops were roaming about barely an hour ago.

I was pouring some shots for this couple when I felt a vibration in my pocket. I finished serving the duo before fishing my phone out, opening my messages straight away. ‘We caught the guy.’

I didn’t bother reading the name, knowing already who it was. Is it wrong of me to be a bit upset? I’m happy there’s one less criminal on the streets but I wanted to see Spencer some more.

Hmmm. There’s still a chance to make something happen, but I can’t mess it up. I quickly typed, ‘I should get a reward. I did help you catch the guy.’

I assumed that I’d have to wait a few minutes for him to respond but that was not the case. ‘And what is it that you want?’ It’s now or never.

‘You.’

I’m guessing he had his phone glued to him right now because his reply was immediate. ‘You don’t know who you’re dealing with.’

‘I’m not scared Spencer.’ If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he didn’t want me. But all the heated moments we had shared thus far had to have meant something.

‘You should be, I’m not the man that you need.’ was his reply.

I decided to be a bit cheeky, remembering that it gave me some results when I was messaging him earlier today. ‘You’re a man and I am in need, that’s more than enough for me. Save the rest for the pillow talk.’

I didn’t even get to put my phone down before his next text arrived. ‘This isn’t a good idea.’

Damn, this man is a hard nut to crack, but he has made me stubborn for him. I guess I’ll have to use my ultimate weapon.

Taking note of my surroundings, I dimmed the brightness of my phone and made sure to keep it close to my body. I don’t need any of the customers or coworkers to have a sneak peek into my secret album. I opened the app that holds all of my inappropriate photos, pondering on which one I should send to Spencer.

My eyes landed on one I took pretty recently. I’m not trying to sound conceited or anything but I looked fucking hot. It was erotic and sensual, but not overly so.

I was lying on my bed, one hand holding onto my chest while the other held the phone up. My fingers were spread apart, allowing for the taunt nipple of my left breast to peek out. The dim lighting of the lamp helped accentuate the curves of my body. The picture includes the lower half of my face, where I was biting down on my lower lip. I was wearing a white lacy thong that barely left anything for the imagination.

I quickly clicked on the photo and made it so that he’ll have to download the image before seeing it. I added the caption Warning, it’s a bit NSFW, before hitting send. Crossing my fingers, I hoped for a reply soon.

I waited and waited but my phone did not notify me of any new messages. Five minutes have passed and I was shit out of luck. Welp I tried. Now I gotta pick up my pride from the floor.

Suddenly, I felt my phone vibrate and I felt happiness immediately taking over. At first, I thought it was a text message, except the vibrations kept going and going. Realization hit me, it’s an incoming call. I grabbed it quickly, a small squeal leaving my mouth when I saw Spencer’s name appear. I accepted the call and put it towards my ear.

“Hello Dr. Reid, to what do I---“

“When does your shift end?” he interrupted. Well hot damn, no waiting around now huh.

“20 minutes,” came my simple reply.

“I’ll be outside,” and with that, he hung up the phone. Wow, I can’t believe that actually worked.

The next 20 minutes were by far the slowest time has ever went. I kept glancing at the clock, watching as each minute passed at a pain strikingly slow pace. Once it was 12:58 A.M, I already had my bag on my shoulder with my hand on the dividing door.

I made a quick mental check on the inventory I had in my purse. Wallet, check. Phone charger, check. Travel toothbrush, check. Bobby Pins, check. Condom, check. Deodorant, check. Extra panty, check. Yup, I’m ready. I’ve had too many spontaneous sleepovers to not be prepared for evenings like this.

I looked at the time and saw that it was finally 1:00 A.M. I zipped right out of here, making sure to shout my goodbyes as I made my way to the exit. Once out the door, I turned towards the corner and immediately spotted Spencer waiting for me.

I made my way towards him with the biggest smile on my face. “Hi, Spencer.”

“Get in,” he demanded.

“Why the haste?” I asked with a teasing tone behind my words.

“I’ve wasted enough time when it comes to you.” That’s a good enough reason for me. He got in the driver seat while I made my way to the passenger’s side, placing my bag on the floor near my feet.

“My house is a 20-minute drive,” I informed him. “You’ll just have to make a lef—“

“No,” he cut me off. “The hotel I am staying at is 10 minutes away from here.” And this is why I always pack the necessities.

“Alright, you’re in charge, Sir.”

Spencer didn’t respond to my little quip, choosing instead to turn the car on. Fine, play that game of yours. As soon as I put my seat belt on, he pulled out and started driving.

We’ve only been in the car for a couple of minutes before I got a bit antsy. I never did like quiet rides. I turned to him “What took you so long to get Mr. Creepy guy?”

His eyes fleetingly dashed towards my direction before focusing back on the road. “Who?”

“The man that you were looking for,” I clarified.

“We had to be sure it was him,” he stated.

“My description wasn’t enough for you.”

“It was helpful but we had to be certain. He eventually confessed to the crimes while under custody.”

“Oh,” I said. “Umm do you have a girlfriend?” A girl gotta make sure that she wasn’t becoming a homewrecker.

“A. What,” he asked. I’m pretty sure he heard me but I repeated myself anyway.

“A girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Somebody waiting for you at home?”

“I do not. I am not in a committed relationship.”

“That’s cool. Neither am I if you’re wondering,” I said. “So did you like my picture?” Apparently, my mouth does not know when to stop. Although I must admit, I’m curious to know what he thought of it.

We stopped at a red light and he gazed at me before saying “I was with my team when I got your little message. They were wondering why I got quiet all of a sudden.” I would have laughed if he didn’t have such a dark look on his face. “I did not appreciate their curiosity as to what was going on.” The light turned green, and he started driving faster now. Do FBI agents get speedy tickets for booty calls?

“Does that mean you did not like it?”

Spencer didn’t respond and I was about to ask him something else when I realized the car was parked. Oh we’re here, that was fast. He got out and went to open my door for me.

“Wow, what a gentleman.” Still no response from him. I picked up my bag and hopped out while he closed the door behind me. He made sure to lock it before grabbing my hand and leading me to the hotel’s entrance.

I couldn’t even appreciate the interior of the place since Spencer was dragging me to the elevators. He finally spoke after pressing the button for the doors to open. “I’m giving you one more chance to turn back.”

“And miss out on the fun, no way.”

The doors to the lift opened and we stepped inside. They didn’t even close fully before he pushed me against the wall and crashed his lips against mine. Fuck, the moan that left my body was embarrassingly loud; I am sure the receptionists heard it.

I went to put my arms around Spencer’s neck but he grabbed my hands and pinned them to the wall before my fingers could even touch his shoulder.  His knee drew my legs apart, resting in between my thighs. A shudder ran through me, which caused him to tighten his hands around my wrists. I liked that he was releasing the wilder side of him; the side that he kept hidden from others.

He sucked my bottom lip between his and bit down on it. Instinctively, I opened my mouth which he took as a green light to plunge his tongue inside. It was sloppy, it was raunchy, but I loved it.

I was about to start grinding my pelvis against his knee when the elevator doors dinged open. As quickly as he came upon me, he pulled apart. Spencer grabbed my hand once again and tugged me down a hallway. After a few steps, we stopped in front of the door and he went to grab his key from his pocket.

I took the moment to admire him. He was still wearing what I assumed to be his work clothes. His hair looked even more messy than usual. I’d like to think that he was running his hands through it while debating on what to do with me. His eyes seemed darker, no longer the honey orbs I was captivated by the day prior. Nonetheless, they were still beautiful. His lips, my god those lips of his. Puffed out and more pink than normal. I just wanted to kiss him again.

Spencer opened the door to his room holding it open for me. Once we were inside, with the door fully closed this time, he pulled me into another hungry kiss. One of his hands held my face as the other landed on my waist. I dropped my purse on the floor, my hands promptly losing themselves in his hair.

My mouth immediately opened up, wanting to feel his tongue pressed alongside mine once more. He used the hand that was holding my waist to pull me closer until I was flushed against his body. I felt hot. Too hot. I wanted to rip off my clothes and his at this very moment.

Suddenly his face pulled away, much to my disappointment. We were trying to catch our breath as we looked at one another.

“I want you on your knees,” he rasped. I’d love nothing more but we wouldn’t be here if I were obedient.

“And if I say no?” I asked.

“Don’t pretend you’re some kind of bad girl because we both know that is far from the truth.”

“Your profiling skills need some work if you think I am a good girl who follows the rules.”

He tightened his grip on my waist. “I never said you were a good girl.”

“Then what am I?”

“You’re a cock hungry dirty whore who is going to get on her knees or be bent over mine. Your choice.” Well, who am I to argue against such logic. Although the idea of being spanked by him is exciting, I rather see him come undone by me. And on me.

I slowly sunk down to my knees as Spencer started removing his belt and unbuttoning his slacks. I helped him drag his pants and boxers down, low enough to unveil his hard dick. My mouth salivated at the sight of him and I pressed my thighs closer together. Maybe I am a cock hungry dirty whore.

I placed one hand on him, feeling the heated skin against my cooler palm. His dick gave a slight twitch at the difference in temperatures. I closed my hand, delighted by the fact that I couldn’t fit my whole first around his cock. Leaning forward, I placed a small tentative kiss on the head. I glanced up, seeing that he had his poker face on.

Now that wouldn’t do, I want to see Spencer Reid lose control because of me.

I pulled my hand back and brought it to my face. I licked the length of my palm before placing it at the base of his cock again. My opposite hand settled on his thigh to help balance myself. I leaned forward once more and lightly licked the tip before placing it inside my mouth. I sucked gently while firmly grasping the base. He rewarded me with a small grunt.

I moved down, slowly taking him inch by inch. I made sure to get him as wet as I can while gliding my lips against him. My hand pumped the remaining length that couldn’t fit in my mouth. He started to become more and more erect.

“You like this don’t you?” Spencer groaned out, “You’re such a filthy slut for me.” How is it possible that the sound of his voice is making me aroused? He placed his hands on my hair, fisting his fingers among the locks.

I moaned at his words, bobbing my head up and down at a faster pace. I moved my hand to cup his sac, giving him a gentle massage between my fingers. He gave out a choked sound as he started to slowly thrust his hips.

I drew back and kissed my way down his cock until my lips met my hand. I placed my mouth on one of his balls and gave one a light suck before running my tongue around it. “Fucking hell,” Spencer loudly exclaimed, as I returned the same ministrations to the neglected one.

I pulled away with a small pop and dragged my tongue from base to tip. My eyes looked up at him, and the sight was sexy as fuck. His mouth was opened as he was trying to catch his breath, his face slightly flushed. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and the veins on his neck were more prominent.

I made sure Spencer’s eyes landed on mine as I wrapped my lips around his now full length. He started thrusting more earnestly this time as my hand went back to massaging his balls. I continued eye contact as I bobbed my head up and down on his cock.

He tightened his hands on my hair harshly, which made me more wet. Great, on top of being a cock whore, I am a pain whore. This man is bringing the worst out of me and I’m loving it.

I made sure to hollow my cheeks and swirl my tongue around his head every time I returned back up. I didn’t think I’d have this much fun with a cock in my mouth. Once I dipped my tongue against his slit and firmly clasped my hand over his sac, it was over for him.

Spencer took over and held my head in place as he started to thrust within me. I tried my best to maintain eye contact, despite the tears swelling up. My other hand clutched at the skin of his thigh, raking my nails over him. His groans were a sweet symphony to my ears. Just when I thought he was about to release himself, he stopped and pulled away from me.

“Why’d you stop?” I pouted, my lips feeling very sensitive as they moved against each other.

He panted heavily and loudly, “I don’t want to cum yet.” I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at the sight of him. He was a mess and it was all because of me.

“But I wanted to taste you.” My hand went back to grab him but he stopped me with a sharp tug of my hair.

“Behave or you won’t get a reward for sucking my dick so well,” he said flatly.

Ohh, I’m curious as to what a reward from Spencer Reid entails. He pulled me up and I had to place my hands on his chest for balance. As my legs were regaining feeling, he was staring at my face. I can already imagine what he sees. Tear stained face with puffy eyes and swollen lips. Apparently, he liked the sight because he pulled me into another kiss.

This one was much more tender than our previous kisses. His lips were soft, as if afraid they would irritate my already swollen ones. His hands cradled my head, gently tilting it up so he has better access. His tongue swirled against mine and I was surprised he wasn’t repulsed by his taste on me. So many guys would find this to be disturbing.

Spencer slowly pulled away from me. He looked into my eyes as he said, “I want you to strip then bend over the bed.”

“What if I don’t?” His once gentle hands on my face are now gripping my cheeks, making my lips pucker. He continued to stare at me and it took everything within me not to moan at his actions.

“I think you know what would happen if you don’t, do you really want that?” As much as I would have loved to mess with him some more, I did not want it at the expense of my orgasm. I’m too horny to be acting recklessly. 

I started stepping away from him, doing as he requested. I would have taken my time removing my clothes, but I was too impatient. As I pulled down my panties, I noticed how damp they were. This man has made me wanton and soaked without even touching me yet.

I went over to the bed, placing myself in the desired position. The bed was tall enough where my feet were still firmly on the floor but I didn’t need to bend my knees to keep my stomach flat against the mattress. 

I watched Spencer strip out of his clothes, making note of the mismatched socks he had on. Aww cute. Once he was bare, he walked up behind me and placed his hands on my hips. For a few seconds, he did nothing while I was readily anticipating his next move.

Finally, I felt his hand cup my mound and I gasped at the feeling. “You’re so wet. All of this because you had my cock in that dirty mouth of yours.” I shuddered at his words, the hairs on my arm rising up.

He started rubbing at my lower lips, spreading the arousal that has already formed all over me. “You have nothing to say now that I got my hands on you huh,” he continued, stroking his fingers against my core.

Just when I was about to say something, he sunk a single finger inside me. I inhaled sharply and buried my head into the sheets. I tried my best to move against him but the hand resting on my hip kept me at bay. He was methodical with his actions, pressing his finger against my walls as he moved in and out.

“Your pretty little cunt is taking my finger so well. You think you can handle another one?” I still couldn’t reply to him, too busy trying to even out my breathing. He then entered another finger. I moaned as he started diligently working those dexterous digits inside of me. My pussy was throbbing while he was working wonders.

A loud moan was torn out my body as Spencer’s fingers curled against my G-spot. “Oh you liked that, dirty girl,” he growled out. He curled his fingers once again and I let out an equally loud whine. He continued this every time he returned his fingers back inside of me; my throat releasing a moan whenever he did so. You’d think with all the time I spent staring at his hands that I’d be ready for him but that’s a big no.

My body was warming up and I could feel the heat pooling within me. I was a goner when a third finger entered me. He tightened his hand on my hip and I prayed that it would leave marks. I wanted to admire the bruises when this was all over.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the pleasure racking my body. I was so close to finding my release. The way I was pulsating around his fingers was a telltale sign that I was upon my release.

“You want to come, dirty girl, you want to come all over my hand?” he fiercely whispered. All I could do was nod against the comforters, my voice long gone by now.

I felt myself pulse and tighten around him. With just one more curl of his fingers, I was about to climax. But he suddenly pulled out and released me.

“What the fuck?” I screeched, voice coming back with a vengeance. “You said I was going to get rewarded you teasing bastard.”

“And you are. Now shut up before I change my mind.” For once, I stayed quiet, only because I really wanted an orgasm. It is the least he could do after making me all hot and bothered.

I turned my head back, wanting to see what Spencer would do next. I whimpered when I saw him put his fingers in his mouth, licking my essence off of him. I watched as he took his time, my pussy continuing to throb at the sight.

“You taste pretty good for such a whore,” he remarked once he was done. I saw him walk towards the nightstand and grab a foil packet. Excitement coursed through my veins, my body barely staying still.

He was behind me once again, and I was ready for him. I felt him rub the head against my lips, pressing down when it met my clit. He continued doing this, moving up and down against me, making sure to coat himself in my arousal. I started to wiggle my hips against him, hoping to gain some more friction.

A loud moan was torn out of my throat when Spencer suddenly grabbed my hips and buried himself inside my pussy. He let out a groan as he stilled within me. We had a moment to adjust to one another before he started rocking against me. He was hitting me deep, touching places that I didn't know were possible.  

“Spencer, you feel so fucking good,” I mewled out, enjoying the feel of his cock against my walls.

He kept a steady rhythm, making sure to pull halfway out before pushing back in. Small moans left my mouth as I tried my best to return his thrusts. His hands on my hips did not allow for much movement, reminding me that he was the one in charge of my pleasure.

My body moved rhythmically against the bed, my sensitive nipples rubbing against the sheet, adding to this blissful feeling. I was burning up from the sensations wrecking my body.

“I want you to touch yourself,” Spencer growled out. I let my hand trailed down my stomach but paused when they got to my lower abdomen. I felt a bump form at my lower abdomen every time he entered me, which only added to my desire. I tightened around him and he let out a groan before giving me a powerful thrust as a warning.

My hand continued its descent to my clit, fingers rubbing against it once they met. Spencer increased the pace, slamming his hips against my ass. My legs started to tremble, my orgasm looming over my body. My hand continued to play with my clit while the other gripped the sheets tightly. I bit down on the comforter, trying my best to quiet down my moans.

One of Spencer’s hands grabbed my hair and pulled my head up. “None of that, I want to hear you. I want everyone in this hotel to know what a filthy little bitch you are. My filthy little whore,” he grunted out.

It was all too much for me. His voice, his cock, his hands. I felt wave after wave of pleasure as my release washed over me. I cried out his name; submitting to the ecstasy my body was experiencing. My muscles went limp as I attempted to return air into my lungs.

I heard Spencer grunt as my pussy pulsed and creamed around him but that did not stop his relentless pace. “Keep touching the clit of yours, I want you to come one more time.”

“I can’t,” I whimpered. I was still recovering from the powerful orgasm I just had. I won’t be able to have another one so soon.

But Spencer Reid was nothing if not diligent. “You can and you will.”

His hand that was in my hair joined mine between my legs. His fingers were so much better than mine. He pressed firmly against my clit, keeping a steady motion against me. He snapped his hips harder, the slight pain making me feel that familiar coil in my stomach.

“I know you have one more in you for me. I want you to give it to me” he uttered. I’m not sure how he is able to do it, but I felt my body start rising again.

“Sp-Spencer. Please.” I didn’t know what I was begging for as I stammered those words out. His hand between my legs pressed harder and his rhythm against me started wavering. I knew he was close to his release, but I was right there with him.

When he pinched my clit firmly against his fingers, I mewled out his name once more. The coil snapped and I couldn’t help the way I trembled once more. My body quaked against his as the shock waves overcame me. I felt as if lightning was running across my nerves.

Spencer thrusted three more times before tensing against me. I felt him jerk and spill himself inside of me. He dropped down, pressing his chest against my back and whispering my name in my ear. We both tried to catch our breaths as we came down from our high.  

After a few minutes, Spencer pulled out of me and walked to a door which I assumed led to the bathroom. I’m guessing he went to dispose of the condom. I continued to lie on the bed, trying my best to catch my breath. My body was still on an all-time high, still reeling from the aftershocks of my climax. I fought against the drowsiness of my eyes, wondering how the hell I am going to stay alert on the cab ride home.

“How are you feeling?” I couldn’t even jump in surprise. I had no idea he returned and was standing right next to me. “I wasn’t too rough?”

“Best. Sex. Ever,” I drowsily responded. Spencer picked me up and maneuvered my body so that I was lying on my back. He grabbed a bottle that was standing on the nightstand; squeezing some cream into the palm of his hand. He rubbed his hands together and started massaging the lotion onto my legs. He focused his attention on my knees and thighs.

“Do you want some water? He asked. I nodded my head and he immediately went to the snack bar area. He grabbed a bottle and what looks to be a granola bar. He uncapped the bottle and gently fed the water to me.

“Do you want some food,” I shook my head at his question. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Cuddles” came my whispered response. Spencer smiled at me before settling on the bed next to me. He draped the blankets over our bodies and wrapped his hand over my waist, pulling me close.

“Goodnight Spencer.”

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

The last thing I felt was the press of his lips against my neck as my body surrendered itself to the sweet bliss of slumber. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid reader insert #mgg #reid smut

[fbfh]

here’s to always finding each other

pairing: percy x gn child of calliope reader

wc: 1.6k

warnings: percy kisses reader following a prior agreement that they don’t remember but it’s 100% consentual, you work retail, a hell yeah, memory loss, I think that’s it

summary: You didn’t really expect to have to spend your entire eight hour shift organizing shoe wax any more than you expected your fictional crush from middle school to be real and your boyfriend. Only one of those happened (and the shoe wax was still very disorganized when you left).

song rec: this lofi mix, boba manifesto - chris flemming (mostly as a joke but it slaps)

a/n: i am wOrKiNg oN tHiNgS!!!!!! It’s going well!!! expect some fun surprises soon!!!!!!!!!

Crouched down on the ground, rearranging an end cap of shoe wax in the men’s department wasn’t really what you thought being a grownup would be like as a kid. You can’t complain too much, the pay is pretty good and working conditions are decent - as much as they can be in retail. You stand up to check your progress (and stretch your legs) and notice that guy is still there. He’s been hovering around the athletic shirts and pants for a while, and he keeps checking his phone and looking around. You’re sure he’s probably just waiting for someone, but you’re considering asking if you can help him find anything. 

He has a vaguely familiar energy, and your stomach drops for a moment, hoping you don’t know him from school or something. God, that would be a nightmare. That’s happened to you once or twice, bumping into someone you went to school with, and it’s always as bad as you expect. 

‘You know what,’ you think, trying to see if you can fit the last few containers of wax on the shelf without making them topple over, ‘he’s probably fine. If he needs help he’ll ask for it.’ 

You go back to scanning and adjusting the prices of the clearance shoe polish - the company had changed their packaging recently, so it’s out with the old and in with the identical - but you still can’t shake the feeling of familiarity. 

He turns around, holding up an orange shirt that says ‘go for it’ in a ridiculous font, and you get a glimpse of his face. 

You crouch back down so he won’t catch you staring, and the realization dawns on you. He looks a lot like Percy Jackson from the books you read in middle school. Or was it high school? Everything between 6th grade and high school graduation is kind of blurry and confusing in your memory. Man, you should really re-read those, you heard there was a TV series in the works and you want to remember all the details for when it comes out. You’re a little surprised at how nervous that revelation makes you, like the feeling when you’re a kid going to a theme park and you can see the roller coasters as you pull into the parking lot. Weird. Anyway, it’s not the first time you’ve seen a customer who looks like a character from something. One time you saw someone who you swore looked just like Pidge from the Voltron reboot that came out a few years ago, and a coworker saw a girl who looked like an anime character she loves… Raka something? Her name sounded like gravity, but that wasn’t it. You shrug, making a mental note to ask her about it later. 

You stand up once again to take one final look before you move onto the next end cap, and see that the guy is standing next to you. You look up at him, and all those weird feelings of excitement and something close to anticipation amplify, as you get a closer look at him. He really, really looks like Percy Jackson. Like if the Viria art was a real person. 

“Uh… hi, can I help you find anything today?” You ask, snapping out of your daze and into your customer service voice. He takes a second before answering, and you’re a little unnerved by the way he’s looking at you; warm and intimately, like he’s known you for years. 

“No,” he replies, a dreamy tone to his voice, “I’ve got everything I need.” You’re pleasantly surprised and a little freaked out that he even has the accent. Seriously, if he’s not already, this guy should really get into cosplay. Also, is he flirting with you? He seems to realize what he just said, and backtracks slightly. 

“Actually, um, I was wondering if you could help me out with something over here,” he says, and you agree, in your signature chipper tone. He guides you to a table covered in various sweatpants behind a mirror. 

He glances around again, and you have to ask. 

“You know, if you’re having trouble finding someone we can-”

“Walkie customer service to have my group meet me at the front desk.” He finishes seamlessly. 

“It’s not my first time at the rodeo,” he chuckles, and you get the feeling there’s more meaning behind what he’s saying, like an inside joke you’re not a part of. 

“Oh… yeah.” you say, and he can sense your surprise, “How did you…” you trail off, and he can sense the silent question in your voice. He lets out a breathy chuckle, cheeks flushed pink.

“Like this.” 

He catches your face in his hands, and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes widen in shock, mostly at the fact that you don’t feel threatened by his presence at all. You’re shocked at how comfortable you feel around him, how you feel in your bones that you’ve known him for years when the logical side of your brain is telling you that you first saw him ten minutes ago. He pulls away, searching your eyes for… something. 

“Uh…” you glance away, brow slightly furrowed, then back up at him, “what the fuck?” 

His expression softens, and he says gently, “Give it a minute.” 

You’re about to ask him to give what a minute, when a barrage of memories, feelings, people you don’t think you’ve ever met but seemed to be best friends with knocks you off your feet. You try to take in a breath, but the air in the room seems to have taken a temporary vacation from your lungs. 

You look up at him, eyes flared in understanding and shock. He mutters something in confirmation. Someone yells nearby, and you both look over to an adolescent boy asking his mom why he can’t wear neon basketball shorts to school. Percy looks back over at you.

“Is there somewhere a little more-” the mom starts arguing back and forth with her son at a louder volume, and he continues, “private… where we could talk?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll… I’ll get somewhere.”

A few minutes later, you’re sitting across from each other on two step stools in one of the stock rooms. You’re still surprised at how easily you had lied to your boss that your long distance boyfriend showed up a few weeks early after over a year of not being able to see each other, and you needed a moment to catch up. She had agreed readily, asking that you tell her when you’re ready to get back to your tasks. 

“I’m sorry about that,” he starts, snapping you out of your train of thought, and you look up at him, “I never would have kissed you without asking, but you made me promise last time that the next time you lose your memories I would get them back to you as fast as I can.” 

“Uh, it’s okay, I feel like I remember talking about that.” Your memories are still fuzzy, but coming back sporadically.

“It can take a few days for them to come back fully.” He adds. 

The most surreal part of this is you remember vividly what happened in the books - because you lived through it. You hold back a giddy laugh bubbling up.

“So…” you begin, and he looks at you, his gaze warm, “it’s all real?” you breathe the words, almost afraid of an answer. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking away briefly, overwhelmed that you’re with him once again.

“The short version is, since your godly parent is Calliope, you sometimes get sent to other worlds. You kind of have to hop scotch from one place to another, like getting a goldfish used to a new bowl of water. The mist - or sometimes,” he glances up, pointedly and irritable, “other factors - usually take away a lot of your memories. They say it’s to make the transition easier, but who knows. Anyway, there are these waypoints, kind of like a time loop that you hang out in until you’re either ready to leave or one of us finds you first.”

“So this…” you motion around to the rows of cardboard boxes filled with plastic cups and paper towels. He nods and you let out a laugh of relief that you really won’t have to work here long term. 

“As soon as you’re ready we should probably head out to camp. It’s gonna be a bit of a drive.” 

“Wait, it’s all like… here? Like in this world?”

“Yeah,” he smiles again, once more sending butterflies through your chest. 

You let out a disbelieving, excited laugh.

“Alright. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.” 

Before you can get up, he takes your hand in his. He watches his fingers skim back and forth for a minute before looking up at you. 

“You know that I’ll always find you, right?” there’s an overwhelming torrent of emotions he’s somehow managing to convey through his eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter where you go, or how long you’re gone, or if we even remember each other. I will always find you.” His hand comes up to your cheek for the second time today, and your head tilts into his embrace automatically. You somehow trust him more than anyone or anything else right now. You nod gently.

“I do.”

He glances away again, cheeks flushing red, and he sighs, kissing your forehead. 

You get up and head towards the exit together, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“How about we get some bubble tea once we’re in the city?”

“Oh hell yeah!” 

You don’t remember the last time you had bubble tea, but it sounds really, really good right now. 

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x gn reader #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson #heroes of olympus

[ladyfenring]

out with the old

...and in with the new. Aldhelm and Aethelflaed's quiet night in does not go quite as planned.

for @aadmelioraa

read it on ao3

The TV has gone into sleep mode, the wine on the coffee table is flat, but neither Aldhelm nor Aethelflaed has any intention of getting up until they have to. Aldhelm is lying across the length of the couch, Aethelflaed straddling his hips and nipping at his neck.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week,” she hums.

His hand skims up her back. “So have I.”

She smiles against his neck, one hand slipping between them to cup him. “I can tell.”

He raises his other arm over his eyes, huffing out an embarrassed laugh. She’s laughing, too, but she pulls his arm away and kisses him.

“I’m flattered,” she murmurs. “And if we weren’t waiting on dinner, I’d show my appreciation right now.”

“Perhaps it’s not too late to cancel the order,” he teases.

She pushes herself up to tap the screen of his phone. “Yes it is; our order’s on the way.”

“Since when?”

“Five minutes ago.”

“Didn’t hear the notification.” He grins up at her. “Can’t imagine why.”

She kisses him again, moaning a little when he deepens the kiss. “Aldhelm, the courier will be here soon.”

“We’ll just chuck the food in the fridge and continue this upstairs.”

She laughs breathlessly. “Aldhelm!” She starts to make a halfhearted attempt to get up, but Aldhelm reverses their positions, noting the way her pupils dilate when she looks up at him. He kisses her jaw, slowly unbuttoning her shirt.

“Aelfwynn is at a sleepover, we have the house to ourselves, and no one is expecting to hear from either of us for the next twelve hours. I want to make the most of this time we have together.”

“Yes,” she groans, “but I’m afraid if you start now, I won’t be able to let you stop.”

He nips the pulse point beneath her ear. “I think you’ll be good for me.”

“Shit,” she whispers, her hips rolling desperately against his.

It is at that moment the doorbell rings.

“Shit,” Aethelflaed says, less enthusiastically.

“Stay just like this,” Aldhelm orders, and is gratified to see a pleased flush on Aethelflaed’s face. He gets up, tugging his shirt down over his groin and trying to hide the evidence of his arousal, and he is so focused on his task that he barely looks up as he opens the door.

“Aldhelm?”

He looks up in shock, staring at his boss and Aethelflaed’s ex-husband.

“Aethelred,” he says in a choked sort of voice.

“Yes, what are you doing here?” Aethelred asks, eyes narrowing, and then he waves a dismissive hand, not even waiting for an answer. “Oh, that’s right, you babysit Aelfwynn sometimes, don’t you? You can’t be that hard up for money, can you? Didn’t I give you a raise a few years ago?”

“Ah…” Aldhelm is spared from having to answer by Aethelflaed appearing suddenly by his side, her shirt hastily rebuttoned and her cheeks flushed.

“What are you doing here?” she snaps at Aethelred.

He raises his eyebrows. “Jesus, I’m here to pick up Aelfwynn. It’s my weekend, remember?”

Aethelflaed makes an irritated noise. “Your weekend was last weekend, but you forgot, again.”

“What?” He pulls out his phone and frowns at something. “Oh. Well, I can take her this weekend.”

Aethelflaed folds her arms over her chest. “Well, she can’t go this weekend.”

“Why not?”

“She’s spending the weekend with my mum.”

“She’s not even here?” Aethelred looks between her and Aldhelm. “Then why is Aldhelm…here…?” Realization dawns slowly, and angrily. “Are you…fucking my wife?”

“Ex- wife,” Aethelflaed snaps, livid. “And don’t act like you’ve been a monk.”

But Aethelred doesn’t seem to have heard her; he’s staring at Aldhelm, his face red.

Aldhelm knows there’s nothing he can say to alleviate the gravity of the situation, at least in Aethelred’s eyes. It doesn’t matter that Aethelflaed and Aethelred are divorced and that Aethelred and Aldhelm haven’t been close in a while; all that matters is that Aethelflaed and Aethelred were married and that Aethelred and Aldhelm were close, and for Aldhelm and Aethelflaed to enter into a relationship without seeking Aethelred’s blessing is, in his eyes, a betrayal of the gravest kind.

When Aldhelm doesn’t offer up a defense, Aethelred says coolly, “We’ll talk about this on Monday.”

Aldhelm shoves his hands in his pockets, nodding. Part of him wants to say something, anything, to salvage what’s left of his relationship with Aethelred…but another part of him knows there’s no point.

Aethelred starts to turn and leave–and then suddenly turns back, swinging his fist at Aldhelm.

Aldhelm lurches back, shocked.

“What the fuck!” Aethelflaed shouts, also leaping out of Aethelred’s way.

He staggers forward from the momentum of his punch, turning wildly to face Aldhelm again.

“Aethelred, grow up!” Aethelflaed snaps.

Aethelred swings again, but Aldhelm is ready for him; he catches Aethelred’s fist, spinning him around and shoving him out the door. Aethelred tries to headbutt him, but Aldhelm brings up his knee, and the foyer echoes with a crack as Aethelred’s nose breaks.

“What the fuck!” Aethelred howls, hands flying to his face. “You broke my nose!”

“Whoops,” Aldhelm says flatly.

“Don’t even bother coming in on Monday!” Aethelred says around the blood pouring out of his nose. “You’re fucking fired!”

“Great,” Aldhelm says without flinching.

Furious, Aethelred storms down the steps, where Aldhelm and Aethelflaed’s delivery courier is coming up the walk with their food.

“Uh,” the gawky twenty-something says nervously, “delivery for Aldhelm?”

Aethelred snatches the bag and punts it up in the air.

“Aethelred!”

He flips them off with both hands, staggering to his car.

“Uh,” the courier says nervously, “what, uh..”

“You can just leave it,” Aldhelm says.

The twenty-something doesn’t need to be told twice; he fairly sprints to his bike, pedaling away as fast as his long legs will allow.

Aldhelm heads down the steps, picking up as much of the fallen takeout as he can. He takes it to the bins around back, then heads back to the front, where Aethelflaed is still standing in the front door, watching him with concern.

“I suppose our dinner wasn’t meant to be,” he says wryly, stepping inside.

She runs a hand through her hair, closing the door behind them. “I can’t help but feel as though I’ve just cost you your job.”

“You absolutely did not,” he assures her. “If anyone cost me my job, it was me. I should have left ages ago.”

She bites her lip. “What will you do now?”

He considers. “I really don’t know. But I’m sure something will work out.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You seem strangely calm about this.”

“Oh, I’m sure the panic will set in later.”

She lets out a small laugh. “Well, is there…anything I can do?”

He rests his hands on her waist, his thumbs slipping beneath the hem of her shirt and stroking her warm skin. “I can think of a couple things.”

She smiles, taking his hand and leading him towards the stairs. “Well, why don’t you come upstairs and tell me what they are?”

#aldflaed #aldhelm x aethelflaed #the last kingdom #fic by me

[justoneday-namjoonii]

Don’t Breathe | 4.5

»Genre: hitman!au || stalker!au ||

»Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, obsession, themes of potential Stockholm syndrome, mono-phobia, mature elements, manhandling, breakdowns, yandere (? i think ), he thinks it’s cute when she cries, eventually they fall in love, Disclaimer: I do not condone nor suggest stalking/kidnapping or anything of that nature, this is pure fiction ok, kidnappers and stalkers DON’T love you.

»Summary: He doesn’t get shaky hands, he never forgets his gloves and he never leaves a trail. He was paid to get rid of everyone who witnessed the exchange between a gang lord and a politician, they were picked off, one by one. He found out a month later, he missed one. A young writer who attended the event where the exchange took place. He has to kill her. Can he do it?

✤ pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.2.5 - pt.3 - pt. 3.5 - pt. 4.0 - pt. 4.5 - pt. 5.0 - pt. 5.5 - pt.6.0

a/n: hello!~ thank you for reading and i hope u enjoy!! will most def edit later💖

taglist: @tangledsparkles @just-another-fangurl21 @impartoftoomanyfandoms​ @komorebi-unnie​ @tangledsparkles​ @yes-sol-not-soul (sorry :( tumblr won’t let me tag you) @sarzkh31 

The sun is setting like a dream, you can’t say you’ve ever seen it shine so beautiful. The sky looks like a peach painting that shyly fades into a heavenly deep-blue. It’s a perfect evening, the air smells of the flowers growing on the porch and it delights your senses. He’s chasing you barefooted across the grassy yard, like two children playing tag at the peak of spring. Out of breath, he finally catches you and you fall back into the checkered blanket, too tired to run off again. 

After seeing you enjoy the balcony so much, he introduced you to his lavish backyard. Aside from the large stone patio and pool attached to it, the yard expands at least an acre and it’s well-groomed. Early in the evening, you moved to spend some time on the patio, a pencil, and paper in hand. Taehyung had some work to do so you had a few hours to yourself, you used that time to think and write. After a few hours, you could no longer resist the urge to take a dip in the crystal clear oasis.

With a t-shirt and underwear, you eased into the cool water and breathed a sigh of relief. For what could have been an hour or two, you weren’t counting, you swam on your back, staring up at the clear sky, wondering if you’ll ever feel peace like this again. When your eyes shut, your thoughts seem to align, and for the first time since you’ve been here, you felt like you were where you were supposed to be. As much as you cherish your life alone, your independence, and innate desire to prove that you can make it on your own—it seems Taehyung is worth giving that up. 

That would have sounded crazy weeks ago, but it’s how you feel. That night that you confessed that you wanted to be with him, you meant it. You don’t know when it happened, maybe when you kissed him and he picked you up when you woke up to him fast asleep with a pillow in his arms. Or maybe it was when he suggested you help him bake since he knew you wrote so much about food in your articles, you’re not sure. But somehow, sometime after learning his name, you think you fell in love.

When you were with Jin, you had similar feelings to this. You knew you were in love when you had the urge to smile even when you were hurting just to make him smile. That feeling of unexplained self-sacrifice, something as small as a smile, you’d force it out if you knew it would help him. With Taehyung, it seems like he will do anything to make you smile sometimes, even when you know he’s keeping stressful things from you. Is that love? You think so.

You sigh, still feeling a bit wet from your swim a while ago but you’ve dried mostly. He fussed at you for not showering straight away but you said the sun would dry you well enough until your shower tonight. It’s dusk now, and your out in the grass, laying happily on the blanket with him. A few minutes ago you found out that he had pretty lights adorning the patio. He said he’s had them for a while but hadn’t turned them on until today. It casts a warm light out into the grass, you tell him he should turn it on more often.

”You should shower before you catch a cold,” He stresses for the second time. You find his worry endearing but negotiate five more minutes, and he caves. It’s been a while since you’ve been outside like this. He knows this, that’s why he’s laying shoulder to shoulder with you as you gaze up at the night sky. “Sorry I had so much work I had to do today, hope you weren’t too bored out here,”

”It’s fine, I was writing anyway...”

”You were writing?” He turns on his side, curiosity piqued. You nod, hands searching for the pencil and pad you had on the blanket.

”Mhm, I used to write poetry when I was in high school. I wasn’t very good and some of it is kind of cringe now that I look back at it, but I enjoyed it. I haven’t written in so long, I thought I’d give it a shot,” You grab the notepad and look up at it, eyes skimming over the gray hue from all the erasing. You catch him trying to peek over and you hold it to your test.  

“Don’t look, it’s not good,”

He pouts, hand moving to intertwine with yours with puppy-dog eyes.

“Come on, you’ve never shared your personal writings with me before,” He pouts, leaning closer to you in hopes that you might succumb to the allure of his gaze. “Pleeease?”

”Fine,” You sigh, “but you have to read it yourself,” You lift the notepad in surrender, handing it to him.

He sits up and the feeling of anxiousness comes to a halt when you realize one important fact; it’s Taehyung. Not a supervisor critiquing your rough draft or a teacher judging your ability to recite your understanding of the class’s latest assignment. It’s him.

I’ve been given a universe, all for me. My very own stars in your eyes, I can stare at you forever. The remnants of your every gaze births a galaxy and I draw up the constellations by the reminisce of the pattern of your touch on my skin. I, too, have given my universe to you. Though I’m innocent to the stars in my eyes, the constellations I paint on your skin, all for you. No event is there more beautiful than the moment our eyes meet, our nebulae collide. A merging occurs, giving life to new stars that are our own, creating a galaxy that holds a shape that can only be defined by fate. In that sweet moment, we create an intertwined constellation, a design filled with millions of our old and new stars, shining brighter than ever,

“In your universe, my universe...” He reads the last lines softly. Setting the pad down with an expression that you can’t quite read, he just looks at you and you start to feel nervous.

“I just,” You bite at your lip and look up at the night sky that’s beginning to show the stars, “I had this idea about space, it’s a little different but it took me hours to come up with...I’m rusty.” 

He props himself up and leans over you, gazes searching for yours with a tender close-lipped smile. He holds his hand to his heart, “That was so beautiful.”

You cringe, pushing his chest so he can roll back on his back. “Oh stop, now I wish I wouldn’t have shown you,” It’s hard to tell if he’s praising you or teasing, it seems like it’s one in the same sometimes.

“I’m being serious, I can feel the emotions you’re conveying in your words, I really get it…” He looks a bit surprised that you’d think he was teasing you about this, he leans back over you.

“You mean it?” You look into his eyes, wondering how anyone could be capable of making you feel so special like you’re the only person in the world. Without a word, he presses a firm kiss to your lips and you sigh, he means it.

He gets you to go inside and shower before it’s too dark outside, you both shower and the warmth calms you. Dressed in a matching pair of gray and green pajamas that he recently purchased, long-sleeves but breathable. For the first time, you two lay in bed and watch movies together. You had debated over watching either Whisper of The Heart or My Neighbor Totoro, you settled on My Neighbor Totoro.

You’re comfortably propped on your pillow and curled slightly on your side. Taehyung is laying on his side as well, one leg was thrown over you and one hand holding yours. He’s like a big teddy bear, soft and comforting in every way. He’s so warm, his fingers are so long and he engulfs your hand, his leg is pinning you down but you find it comforting.

He’s laying on the pillow beside yours, eyes lingering more on you than the movie, but he glances at it every so often. Ever since that moment on the blanket in the yard with you, your poem had been on his mind in the best way. The thought of you writing that with him in mind, it makes his heart flutter. 

“Baby, I can’t stop thinking about your poem,” He grabs your attention from the enthralling scene on the TV, “I know you think I’m messing with you but I’m not, it’s touching,” He admits with a little laugh, “what is it about?” 

“It was my expression of platonic love and physical love, the love I’ve experienced in my life, what I think is love, our love...” You shyly say that last part, gripping his hand a little tighter. 

He hums, thumb rubbing your knuckles gently. ”Our love? I knew it,” He smiles, a sweet smile on his face as he scoots closer to you if that was possible. “I had my suspicions that it was about us,” He cups your jaw, leaning over you.

“The part where it says, when our nebulae collide, giving life to new stars, creating a constellation that can only be defined by fate,” His mouth gapes a bit, tongue moving absentmindedly, the usual look when he’s thinking.

“That part, that part is my favorite I think,” He gently kisses your forehead and you let out a little laugh that makes him smile in adoration, “it sounds like us,”

“It’s about us, but it’s about you more than anything,” You mumble, moving your hand up to tussle his hair softly, “you’re a bit more poetic than I am, I think.”

The movie is nice white noise to his low breathing, the sound of his mouth meeting your skin. His lips graze under your ear and his hand goes to the underside of your other ear, messing with your senses. He abruptly moves, causing your hand to fall from his hair as he moves to make space for his thigh between your thighs. 

“When we lay together like this,” He smirks to himself, leaning his face just centimeters over yours, “enjoying each other's company and smiling, I feel so lucky,” He kisses down your jaw to your neck, praising you—you blush.

You’ve come to love this.

The barriers you once had have crumbled down a long time ago. Taehyung has shown you what love is, what it feels like. He keeps you safe, he wants to protect you at all costs and that means keeping you here.

“Wait,” You whine, the butterflies in your stomach were swarming happily, you push him away.  “l- let me see your face,” Taking the hand that was once in his, you lift his face to meet yours. “I love your face, you have the best face.” 

“Oh, you think so?” He let’s a little abashed laugh, “Thank you.” With a tender smile, he gives you a nice long look, nothing but adoration in those big round eyes. 

“It’s true,” You grin, still in awe that he doesn’t understand his own beauty. It’s sweet looking at you, seeing your dreamy eyes, those pouty lips, makes him want to eat you. But he settles for breaking the eye-contact and kissing you. Mouth wide open, giving way to his oral fixation. You’ve had very few relationships, but from what you can compare him to, Taehyung knocks the competition out of the water in terms of affection. How he manages to cloud your senses till you’re raw with love amazes you. The rush from it is something you’ve never experienced before.

You’re pushed and pulled, but there’s no hostile battle, no attempt to coax the other into a preferred position, everything sets naturally, as it should. It’s how it’s meant to be, everything fits just right, and he aches to stay this way. He pulls away from the kiss, leaving you breathless and a bit confused. You lean up to try to get him back, but he moves his head away, cooing when you let out a disappointed mewl. “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?...”

“Oh no, sweetheart, you could never,” He thumbs at your cheek, “I just want to talk for a second.” 

“Oh,” You purse your lips in thought, “okay, about what?”

“I’ve never had a reason to be anything for anyone before, until you, isn’t that crazy? I’ve never been this close to anyone like I am to you. I look at you and it makes me realize how lucky I am. I get to see your beautiful face,” He pecks your cheek, causing our face to flush, “how your beautiful mind works,” He pushes your hair back, staring at you sparkling eyes, “your body that just fits me so well, like a glove,” He drags a hand down your clothed abdomen and to your hip, resting his hand there with a gentle press with his  fingers, “you’re perfect...”

“I’m not perfect,” You swallow, turning your head, which apparently meant to him that you wanted some more attention because he kisses at your skin again, “Tae,” You gasp, tears pricking at your eyes for a quarter of a second, you’re just excited, “don’t paint me out to have no flaws, the last person who did that was terribly disappointed,”

“You mean Jin,” He scoffs when you nod. This is not the ideal time to talk about your Ex, but leave it to you two to turn every conversation in a weird direction, “That doesn’t seem like reason enough to leave anyone,” His brows furrow deeply, obviously offended.

“It was a mutual disappointment, we wanted too much from each other. I wasn’t willing to give anymore, and he just didn’t see the point anymore, it was for the best but I don’t think it was easy for either of us.”

“Well,” He breathes against you, “I don’t know the guy but I know you, and that tells me one thing, it was his loss,” You squint, breath stalling when he leaves a particularly lazy kiss to your lips before pulling away with a smack, “he had to be out of his mind to want to leave you, to leave this...”

“Or to stay,” You clear your throat, “it could have gone both ways,”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me, I don’t want to leave you, I want you with me always,” He lets himself drop on his side behind you, hand on your side, voice just a whisper, “I gotta have you, I love you that much, I need you that much...”

“Tae,” You try to sit up but he moves to get behind you, spooning you like a pillow to his chest while taking your hand. You look back so you can see his face and he moves over you so you don’t have to stretch too much, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something...”

“What is it?” He nuzzles his face against yours almost like a cat would, he’s a complete softy, ugh, it’s so cute. “Ask me anything,”

“What’s the one thing you want out of life?... I mean, if you didn’t have your job or you had the chance to make one wish come true, what would it be, what do you really want?”

Grinning ear-to-ear, he boops your nose with his finger, “You.”

“I’m flattered, but besides me,” You gaze down at his hand, “I’m being serious, there has to be something out there that you want...”

“There is,” His eyes drift to your twiddling fingers, “Years ago I built up the courage to look for my birth mother, found out she lives in a different country, she’s married and has two little boys...My half brothers. I used to think about what it would be like to meet them, how they’d like me,” The thought of Taehyung having a relationship with them warms your heart, “it’s a scary thought, but I want to see them one day.”

“Aw, you have little brothers...That’s really sweet, I hope that happens for you one day, I really do...Is there anything else?”

“I’ve always wanted a family, it’s something I used to dream about a lot, but now I have you,” He props his head upon his hand, his other hand still in yours, “we’re like a tiny family, the two of us.”

“Yeah, we are, it’s nice,” When you and Taehyung have pillow-talks like this, he becomes so pure and honest, it makes your heart melt. Just thinking of what he’s gone through in his life, and who he’s become over the time you’ve been together, it might sound cliche but he’s a miracle.

“There’s another thing,” He rubs his thumb against your hand, “I want a baby one day in the future, maybe after I’m married, or just whenever the time is right.”

“Really? I could see that, I know you really love kids and babies.” 

“I’d love a kid of my own, maybe a few,” He can’t contain his little grin at the thought, “that would be so nice...” 

To be a dad. That’s definitely a wish Taehyung would have, and you hope with all your heart that he gets that one day. You just lean further back into his chest, breathing in tandem with him. 

“Love you,” You mutter, squeezing his hand tighter, praying that the walls that once kept you apart would never return. You’ve realized that there are some connections so strong, so meant to be, that no matter the circumstance, those two individuals will meet. 

*

A merging occurs, giving life to new stars that are our own, creating a galaxy that holds a shape that can only be defined by fate. In that sweet moment, we create an intertwined constellation, a design filled with millions of our old and new stars, shining brighter than ever, in our universe.

“How’s the investigation going? Jin told me you reached out the other day,”

The busy lawyer sets his freshly ordered coffee in his cup holder as he drives off to his highly-decorated firm.

“I did, the case is more complicated than I initially thought,” Yoongi poured the subpar coffee in the Styrofoam cup, it’s 6am and he’s trying not to be grumpy, “if I’m right about my suspicions, it’s a fucked-up situation.”

“What’re you thinking?”

Yoongi looks around, seeing that the only person around was the woman at the desk. “The girl, along with the other individuals at that conference, was targeted. I got the names of the parties at the conference, they’re politicians of course but the details of the meeting were never released. I have a theory,” 

He lowers his voice, looking around one more time before sipping his coffee, “I think someone at that conference had the other journalist killed. I went over each autopsy file and those people died from unusual things, but not unusual enough to suspect at first glance. Most of them died from too much of a medication that they were already taking, things like that. But this girl was abducted and I don’t know why,” 

Jungkook makes a thoughtful noise. “What’s different about her that not like the others?”

“She went missing a little over a month after the others were found dead. It looks like a mistake to me,” He paces, “I don’t know if I’m being too outlandish, but I have a feeling she’s alive, we just need to find her,” 

Jungkook responds with how he feels about it but Yoongi has to cut him short when Eunwoo walks into the station. 

“You’re here early, Min,” Eunwoo smiles, beckoning Yoongi to follow him to his office, “I have some good news and some bad news, which do you want first?” Eunwoo leads Yoongi into his office and sets his briefcase down so he can pull what he needs out.

“Surprise me.”

“No luck on finding any leads for you on the Hwan group,” He takes a seat, opening one of the Manila folders, “they’ve been under the radar for years, I hope you can find something on them.

“And the good news?”

“It took a lot to pin him, but we’re bringing in Senator Leu for questioning.”

“Good, I think they know something that they’ve been trying to keep under the rug.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

Yoongi gets up, hand tight on the flimsy cup, “If you could give me a call before the questioning so I can come by, I’d appreciate it. I’m going to do a little digging into this Hwan Group, see if I can get some info that’ll help,”

Yoongi leaves the building with a to-do list but little does he know, detective Na Jaemin, knocking on on Eunwoo’s door.

“Come in,”

“Hi,” Jaemin slips into the room, an unusual grin on his face, “how are you?”

“Um,” Eunwoo looks around, confused as to why he’s approaching him like this but he shrugs, “good, is everything okay, detective?”

“Everything's fine,” Lies, “I just had a question about that PI, Min Yoongi,”

“Shoot,” Eunwoo awaits his question.

“Why is he so adamant about keeping this case open? I mean, I’m a detective on the case and I think we should start searching for the body,” His tone sounds innocent but he’s trying to sneakily plant this idea in Eunwoo’s mind, “we could be wasting precious time, the family deserves closure and we’re just dragging it on.”

“Detective Na,” Eunwoo stops looking through the folder, “given the other related cases, we have reason to believe she might be alive. Not every abductee is killed, even if that tends to be the case.”

Jeamin swallows, trying to think of how to save himself, “I know, I’m not saying that we should be pessimistic but realistic, rather.”

“I get what you’re saying, but on what prescient you’re saying it, I don’t know. I, and many of the others in this case, have reviewed the evidence and compared it to the other cases, it doesn’t add up. After the questioning today, we’ll talk, until then, your efforts need to go towards finding her alive and well,” Eunwoo walks past Jaemin and the detective gets the memo to get out of the office.

“Absolutely, sir,” With a feigned grin, he watches Cha Eunwoo go off to do his job while he fights the urge to scream.

It’s way too close now. They’re so intent on finding you. The Hwan Group has never been found out, it hasn’t happened in the history of the group's existence. Minho’s not gonna like this.

⇢ 1 year ago ⇠

“Girl, your deadline is in three days, why don’t you head home? You have time to finish it tomorrow.”

Suzy looks over your shoulder, eyeing your computer and the thousand words you were trying to edit. You’ve been at the desk since 8 this morning, it’s almost 6 o’clock at night and it’s kicking your butt. The flow isn’t coming to you anymore, your mind is too  “This is terrible, I suck at this crime stuff...” You face plant on your desk, “Like, this is sad.”

“Boss thinks you’ll do a great job,” She leans against your desk, her keys jingling in her hands, “plus, Angela is on maternity leave, you were the easiest replacement.”

“I just, I’m not in a good mindset right now,” You shut your laptop, eyes lowering to our desk, “I’m having problems with my love life, it’s, uh, – not doing so well. I’m sorry, I think I just need to sleep it off,” You take your laptop and tuck it in your tote bag, eager to get away so you don’t cry in front of her, “or drink it off, whichever I get to first.”

“Y/n,” She places a hand on your shoulder, “do you want to talk about it?” That’s the one thing about Suzy, she’s more than a nice supervisor, she’s a friend. But you can’t imagine putting your relationship issues on her, she’s got a fiance to go home to, you don’t want to send your problem with her.

“No, no, I’m okay, you- You know how it is,” You feign a smile, hoping she’ll be convinced enough to let it go, “it’s just your usual boyfriend-girlfriend stuff,”

“Okay,” You mentally sigh in relief because she looks convinced, “well I’m here if you ever need to talk, see you tomorrow!”

The drive home was good, it helped clear your mind, it’s what you needed. When you walked into your empty apartment, you resented its vacancy. What you told Suzy was a half-truth, it’s more than boyfriend-girlfriend stuff, you’re dealing with the sudden absence of a boyfriend. For lack of a better term, you got dumped. But you saw it coming, you two weren’t seeing eye-to-eye, it would have been a disservice to you both if you kept dragging it on. Yesterday, you and Jin met at your favorite Italian restaurant and he said what he had to say.

“We can’t keep doing this,”

“I know.”

You remember moving your fork through your salad, trying not to look him in the eye.

“I still care about you, okay? We should still be friends,” He was letting you down easy, it needed to happen like this.

“Of- of course, I agree...” You looked up at him, forcing a small smile. That’s how that went. The waiter had pity on you and kept coming back to refill your salad when Jin left, he had an early shift at the clinic the next morning.

The pasta didn’t taste the same anymore and your salad became very sad to your taste-buds.

Now it’s just you and your trustworthy friends, Mr. Couch and Mrs. TV. An old movie flickers on the screen and you can’t follow it, maybe that’s just the wine talking.

* *

He told himself he wouldn’t do it, he swore he’d never do it. But he found himself on the internet searching her name, his mother's name. And after hours of looking, he found her. From what he could tell, she was still living, but her last name had changed. Not only that, but she had two little boys with her in a picture on one of her social media. She doesn’t live in the country anymore, she’s off in some foreign country, living a life quite contrary to the one she was living when she had him. To see her smile, to see her living a life without him, completely unaware of the man he is now – it hurts.

He shuts the laptop and stares at the TV in front of him, watching the old movie with blank eyes. On nights like this, he realizes how lonely he is. He lays on the couch, feeling as if he was cheated of an alternative life. He could have been the smiling boy in that photo, he would’ve been a good son, right? She could have smiled the same way if it were him next to her, with his half little brother.

At times like this, he finds himself wondering what his name would sound like on her tongue, she did name him after all. But his name is the only thing she left him with. Kim Taehyung.

This is bad, this is all bad. 

The PI made contact with one of their middlemen last night. It’s likely that the payment and agreement form was leaked. Minho was pissed, if he ever finds the guy he’ll kill him. As far as the case goes, the feds aren’t backing away from the case either, not at all. 

During his morning jog around the stately mansions neighboring his own, the thoughts that come to his mind are more than unpleasant. He’s never doubted Taehyung before, but he’s getting pushed into a corner here. The thought that Taehyung might not have gotten rid of you plagues his thoughts. However, Taehyung is the best, he’s never screwed up a job before. However, the only way he can get the truth is if he calls Taehyung. He has to tell him to release the whereabouts of the body so they can cover it up.

Taehyung glances at his phone from the shower, it’s Minho. His heart drops into the pit of his stomach. For a moment, he thinks about ignoring it, but that would only delay the inevitable. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stumbles out of the shower to grab the phone.

“Hello?” Taehyung answers calmly.

“Kim,” Minho chirps, “how are you?”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung furrows his brows in suspicion, “you?”

“To be honest with you,” He breathes and out, “not good. I don’t know if you know, but that case is blowing up. The damn PI is on to us and he’s egging the guy over the case on. The contract was leaked. They’re bringing people into questioning- This doesn’t look good for either of us,”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“It was your job, Taehyung – it has everything do with you.” 

“But what do you want me to do? I can’t stop the investigation, I did the job, what happens after I get my pay is no longer in my hands.” 

“Do you not remember what you did? She was the only target you took, you didn’t leave the body to make it look like an overdose or a typical homicide, you kidnapped her. I don’t care what you’ve done with her, that’s your business, but reveal the body, then we’ll arrange a cover-up and this will all be over,” 

“I can’t do that.” He replies simply.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“Give it up, Kim! Is she at the bottom of a lake? Did you burn her to ashes? Bury her? Look, I’ve been patient, but if I don’t get the location of the body, your job is on the line, and the reputation of the organization,” 

Taehyung doesn’t say a word. 

“Is she dead, Taehyung?”

Continuous silence pangs over the phone. 

“If you wanted to start this whole rogue thing, you could’ve waited until your contract expires next year-”

���That’s not what it is.”

“Then what is it? Is she dead or alive? Answer the question. 

Taehyung looks up at the mirror, for the first time feeling like things are truly crumbling around him. “I did the job.”

“Okay, y ‘know what? Fine. I tried to do this the easy way, but you leave me no choice. Reveal the body in the next 24 hours, or I’m sending a team to make you reveal it. I’m sorry it has to come to this, Taehyung. There are more important things in life than some girl-”

Taehyung hangs up the phone, slamming it on the bathroom counter, nearly cracking the screen. Some girl – just the way you’re being referred to makes him upset, you’re not just some girl. Had you two met in a different life, in a different way, things would be so much easier. But this is how you two met, he took you and somehow, he was shown incredible mercy. You fell into his arms and he into yours, it was just love, simple as that. 

The patio is lined with Taehyung’s art and yours, the most recent ones. Some canvases are messy, art-pieces born of pure-play. Others are more deliberate, like the one you’re painting now. It’s a flower, the jasmine flower in the pot in front of you. It’s been a few hours and even though it doesn’t look that great, you’re trying.

The door creeks but you don’t hear it, you’re too focused and it makes him smile. Only when he wraps his arms around your waist do you acknowledge his presence. He rests his head on your shoulder, “That looks beautiful,” You smile, too caught up in what you’re doing to verbally respond.

"Hey, can we talk for a second?” He gently grabs your wrist to stop your continuous stroking.

“Sure,” You turn around, already anxious. Your eyes waver, hand dropping the paintbrush into the jar.

“We might have to leave for a little while," He steps away, hand massaging the back of his neck.  

“The investigation is getting bigger, the police aren’t messing around anymore, they're looking for you. My boss called me, he wants me to give you up because he suspects that you’re still alive. The man who hired me to have you killed got busted, he’s probably being questioned as we speak. If I don’t reveal you in the next 24 hours, they’re going for come for me...For you.”

“Oh...” 

That’s the only response that comes to mind.

“So-...So what does that mean for us?”

He takes a seat in one of the couches, elbows propped on his knees, head resting into his hands. He stays like that for at least 30 seconds before lifting his face to see your expression. 

“I’m sorry,” He drags his hands down his face, “I don’t know exactly, I’m just trying to figure it out but this PI, he’s not letting up. And Minho, he’s not going to sacrifice his business covering for me all because I fell in love.” 

You've been living in a pool of ignorant bliss. 

Your family is probably a mess worried about you, especially your mother, your poor mother. You may be in perfect health, but she doesn’t know that. When she watches the news, she hears stories of girls being kidnapped and murdered, unspeakable things done to them. Thank God that’s not your situation, but she doesn’t know that. 

Your job, you miss your job more than you realize. Writing day and night, learning new things, meeting new people, you actually miss it. But you’re torn. Taehyung is one of the best things that’s ever happened to you. If it’s possible, you’ve become so relaxed, so at peace with your life. Stress used to be a daily feeling for you, but you don’t feel it here, with him. He looks at you like an angel, like a celestial being sent to save his soul—you don’t deserve that. Throwing all caution to the wind, he spared your life. He kept you safe and hidden from those who wanted you dead. He may not believe it, but he’s a good person, he’s your angel.

“Taehyung,” You take a seat next to him, placing your hand on his thigh so he’ll look at you, “if I wanted to, would you let me leave?”

No, no, no. His heart sinks, eyes building with tears that he quickly wipes away. 

“If Minho wasn’t looking for you, and it didn’t put your life at risk...” He trails off.

”It would be hard, but if- If that’s what you wanted, I would...I would let you go.” His nose burns red and he quickly loses the ability to keep the tears from rolling.

“Shit, I- I’m sorry, I’m just- I’m not trying to be so emotional...I just, I put you in a bad situation, and I know you miss your old life,” He turns from you, hiding his face so he can wipe the stray tears, “I’m so sorry I took that away...”

You embrace him, bringing his head to rest on your chest, a few tears rolling down your cheeks when he laments into your shirt. Heaving, breathing hitched, it hurts your heart to see him like this, you feel his pain. 

Taehyung struggles with abandonment, loss. He’s shared his past, his childhood, if you can even call it that. The lack of paternal love, isolation and depression, it all shaped him in a way that he can’t shake. It’s apart of him, he didn’t think anyone would ever be able to deal with all of that so he’s pushed it down all this time. But then you came along, and you looked at him with kind eyes, like he wasn’t bad. And he tried to stop it, he tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t anymore, he was in love. He fell so deeply in love so fast, it was scary. He was obsessive at first, he had to be for the job. But even after the job, he kept wanting to know about you, he became enthralled with your existence, it was inevitable, it was fate.

“I want to go home,” He makes grabby hands to your waist as if you’d slip away if he didn’t. “Tae,” He responds with a small sob, “please, look at me.” 

Reluctantly, with a blushed nose and gritted teeth, he looks up at you. The once large man, the man who engulfs you in both size and presence has diminished to someone so small. 

“My home is wherever you are,” You smile, tears already streaming down your cheeks, “when I’m with you, I’m home...I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

“Y/n, you have to understand,” He sniffles, breathing deeply, thumb rubbing a tear from your supple cheek, “If you go with me, I don’t know if we’ll ever come back here, we’ll have to make a new life for ourselves, somewhere far from what we know. I’ve already taken so much from you...Are you sure this is what you want?”

“This is what I want, for us to be together. So it doesn’t matter where I am,” You cup his jaw with teary eyes, “as long as I’m with you.”

“I’m not talking until I have my attorney.”

The politician sits comfortably in the chair, hands crossed tightly, and posture perfect. After about fifteen minutes, his attorney comes in, pant-suit just as expensive as his suit and aura looking as if she had already gotten her client out of this.

“Lana Garza,” She shakes Eunwoo’s hand and takes a seat, “let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Alright,” Eunwoo sits at the table alongside another detective, “the conference you held a few months ago, what were you there talking about?”

“Urban housing development, social and civil issues in the community.” 

“And are you aware of the 5 journalists found dead just a week after the conference?”

“I heard it on the news, yes.”

“Mr. Leu,” Eunwoo stands up, walking across the one-way mirror that Min Yoongi and a few other detectives are behind, “has it ever occurred to you that the conference got little to no press coverage, that’s unusual for a man of your status.”

“My client has no control over the amount of media coverage he gets on an event, that’s a question you should ask the owner of the venue.” She interjects, causing Yoongi to furrow his brows at her defense, she’s gonna fight tooth and nail for that man, he can already tell. It doesn’t matter though, they have evidence against him. That’s the man that wanted you dead,

“Detective, if you don’t have any better questions for him, I think we’ll be leaving.”

“Okay, I’ll be a little more straight-forward. Did you have any involvement with the death of these five people and the disappearance of this woman,” He opens a folder and they see the picture.

Leu glances down at the photo. There’s a shift in his eyes.

“The woman, her name is Y/F/N, she’s a writer at The Autumn Times. For about a month, she was working on an article about you. On the day of publication, she went missing and the article was nowhere to be found.”

The lawyer glances at the photo. “Are you implying my client had something to do with the disappearance of this woman?”

“Did he?” He glances at Leu. “Did you?”

“Why on earth would I do something like that? If you think I’d even dream of doing something like that, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Suddenly, Yoongi barges in, walk right up to the man in question. “Cut the bullshit, we know you weren’t happy about the article, you didn’t want it to get out that you’re a damn fraud. For whatever sick reason, you thought having innocent people murdered would somehow keep you clean.” He takes out a thin folder, holding it up to his face. “This is the copy of the contract and payment to The Hwan Group with your signature on it.” 

Leu exchanges look with the attorney.

“Mr. Cha, can you give Mr. Leu and me a moment?”

Yoongi and Eunwoo leave the room, giving her time to probably compile some type of plead deal. 

“We have him right where we want him, couldn’t have done this without you,” Eunwoo stands with crossed arms

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m not sure who did the abduction, they keep those details encrypted. The jobs not done until we find her alive.” Yoongi bites his lip, muttering to himself, 

Please be alive...

“Tae, Stop! There won’t be any left if you keep eating it al!” 

It’s been a day since Taehyung got that call from Minho, you’re running out of time. But he’s been trying to keep your mind off of it, he made a cake and asked you to decorate it. 

You swat at his hand but he gets the strawberry and cream in his mouth anyway. There’s a large mixing bowl of whipped cream frosting for the strawberry cream cake. 

“Yes Ma’am, I’m sorry,” He laughs, fleeing the kitchen so you don’t get him with the spoon again, “it’s just so good.” You shake your head, trying to count the strawberries for the second time, hoping you have enough.

“Remember the friend I told you about, who couldn’t come that weekend,” He goes back to his computer on the kitchen island just a few feet away from you, “Yeosang,” You nod. 

“Well, he’s back in town and wants to come over.”

You swallow, wondering what that has to do with you, “Okay,” 

“I told him about you, he’s a trusted friend and he’d never do anything to hurt me. I think he could help us, wipe us off the grid and get us to a safe place. I invited him to talk about it today, he should be here soon.”

You give up on counting the strawberries and stare at him. “Why are you just now telling me this?”

“I didn’t want you to have anxiety about meeting him,” His tone softens because he knows you’re upset, “I know this entire situation is stressful.”

“Well, I feel even more stressed now!” You cross your arms, the change in your mood catching him off guard. “Why would you do that!? You know I haven’t been in contact with anyone besides you in months, how can I trust that he’s not gonna turn me in or- I don’t know, anything could happen.”

“Hey, I didn’t know it would bother you this much, I’m sorry,” He walks over to you, reaching for your arms but you make your way to the sink to wash your hands, “I wasn’t trying to upset you, you know that wasn’t my intention at all,” He tries to pull ou in to kiss your forehead but you slip away,

“You should have asked me anyway.” 

“Y/n, this is hard for both of us, I know you’re scared, I am too. But trust me, Yeosang is a good guy-”

“Forget it, invite over whoever you want, it’s your house,” Cutting his sentence short, you walk to the other side of the island, taking off your apron, “I’ll finish this later, go back to whatever you were doing.”

If a trail of fire could follow you on your way upstairs, the stairs would be set ablaze. The 48-hour count down if nearing the 24-hour mark, it’s getting closer and closer, he’s scared for you and himself. You left the cake half-finished so he calmly gathered the ingredients and put them in the fridge for when you might come back for it. When he hears the sound of the tub faucet he realizes you’re going to take a bubble bath, he forgets about seeing you for the next two hours.

He’s learned to let you have your time, you’re owed at least that. Even though you two are together now and you love each other dearly, he’s been feeling guilty. That’s why if you have a little outburst or mood swings from stress, he dismisses it without judgment—you’re just scared. 

*

Ding dong. Yeosang is finally here. From his lonely spot on the couch, he thinks about asking you to come down for a moment, but he decides against it, you’ll come down when you’re ready. With a small smile, he goes to the front door.

“Hyung!” Yeosang throws his arms around a smiling Taehyung. “Sorry I’m late, lost track of time at my folk's place,” Taehyung closes the door and when Yeosang enters the house further, he sees the bowl of fruit on the center table and helps himself.

“You’re good, I’m just glad you could make it,” Taehyung takes a seat on his previous spot on the couch and his friends sits in the recliner beside his, “you don’t know how much help this is for me.”

He smiles, popping a green grape in his mouth. “Anything for my brother, I always told you if you wanted to leave the group, I could help you, I’m surprised you’re deciding so soon,” He gives him a knowing look, “she must really be something, huh?” 

“Yeah...At first, I wanted to save her because I just- I couldn’t kill her, and over time she started to trust me,” He sighs, thinking of the bond you two have now and how much he treasures it, “we just fell in love.”

“I knew it!” He giggles, crossing one of his legs under him. “I knew you’d be the first to settle down, you’re such a softy,”

“I know,” Tae leans back, “she’s just- She’s everything to me, she means a lot to me.”

*

You’ve been soaking in the tub for about an hour now, your face is warm and your body is relaxed. The friend he invited is over and you can hear them talking, but you can’t really make out exactly what they’re saying. Some part of you wishes you didn’t react that way with him, you know he’s doing what’s best for you two. After a few minutes, you build up the courage to drain the bathwater and get dressed in a comfy pair of pajamas.

You can do this, go downstairs, he’s doing this for you two. Letting your hair fall on your shoulders, hands tucked in your sleeves to make sweater-paws. Opening the bathroom door, you peek out and you hear a movie on and a low conversation. She’s just a little shy—you hear Taehyung mumble, and you smile at the fact that he’s not trying to force you to come out. With a brave face, you make your way to the staircase and hold the stairwell all the way down.

“There’s a nice little house there, the farm culture is great, you’d like it-” Yeosang pauses right when you reach the last step on the staircase. With anxious eyes, you stand at the end of the stairway, that’s when Taehyung finally looks back to see why he stopped. 

“Hi there, you must be Y/n,” Yeosang beams a friendly smile.

Taehyung stands up, hand extended for you to take. Your silences pangs in the room and Taehyung speaks up, “This is Yeosang, the friend I told you about.”

“Hi...” You walk over and take Taehyung’s hand, feeling more secure now that you’re sitting next to him.

”Taehyung told me everything,” He sits on the edge of the recliner, “this must be scary for you, huh?”

You nod, “A little...” Tae gives your hand a comforting squeeze.

“You guys will be alright, there’s a new life waiting for you beyond the next 24 hours.”

“How can you be so sure?...”

”Don’t worry, it’s his job to get people to other countries, wipe them off the grid and give them different lives. You can trust him because I trust him,” You glance up at Taehyung, finding it hard to form a response, to truly believe what he’s saying. He plants a kiss on your forehead with a sight, “Everything will be okay, I promise.”

Yeosang went home that night and you laid on the couch with Taehyung, trying not to cry. Tonight will probably be the last night you spend on this comfy couch. Tonight will be the beginning of a new life and despite how in love you are, there’s no guarantee that this won’t go sideways. Tonight, the moon is full and bright, you can see it clearly through the patio window. The stars around it are also just as beautiful, and it makes you feel peace. The same moon and the same constellations shine for you, they’re always there, adding life to the deep-blue sky. When you look up and see the still beauty of the night and its moon and stars, you breathe in contentment. As long as the moon glows and the stars kiss the dark of night, it’ll be okay – you’ll be okay. 

#taehyung #taehyung stalker au #kim taehyung #taehyung assassin #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung fanfic #taehyung mafia au #taehyung smut #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts stalker au #bts scenarios #bts mafia au #don't breathe

[waywardnerd67]

Fan Mail

Summary: Jensen has been penpals with a fan for his entire career. Now he wants to meet her to tell her his true feelings for her. He is in for a great surprise to find out who she truly is. Characters: Jensen Ackles, Reader Pairing: Jensen x Reader Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1706 Prompt: “A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject.” -- Winston Churchill A/N: @spnfanficpond​ Unfic Challenge

(Y/N), I’m sitting in my trailer after wrapping for the last time on Supernatural and I really wish you were here with me. You’ve been my constant companion, my friend throughout all my career and it’s hard to believe we have never met. I want to fix that. I would like to invite you to the Supernatural wrap party in Vancouver. You don’t have to worry about any of the expenses because I will cover them for you. All you have to worry about is bringing you amazing, beautiful self here. I know it’s not a lot of notice which is why I am overnighting this letter to you. Below is my number, just send me a text with your answer. I really want to meet you, (Y/N). It would mean the world to me. Talk to you soon. -J

She reread the letter a few times leaning against the counter. (Y/N) quickly folded the letter and slipped it into her back pocket when the trailer door swung open. The deep, infectious laugh of Jared Padalecki filled the air bringing an instant smile to her face.

“(Y/N)! My favorite person in the whole world!” Jared wrapped his long arms around her and hugged her tight.

She started laughing as he let go of her and flopped down into a chair, “Jared I don’t know if anyone has told you but we wrapped a week ago. You’re supposed to be packing your apartment up to move back home. What are you doing in my chair?”

“My apartment is done and Jensen is sulking around his. I need some sunshine in my life and figured you might need some help packing up the trailer.” His hazel eyes looked around the trailer fondly staring at the wall of photos featuring different looks throughout the years.

(Y/N) smiled softly, “Well I could definitely use your height to get some of the boxes down from our overhead storage.,” she pointed up as he smiled back at her.

After a few hours, (Y/N) and Jared had the whole make-up trailer packed up. An overwhelming sadness tightened around her chest knowing this would be the last time she would ever be inside the trailer of her favorite show. As she turned to look to Jared, she watched in horror as his eyes were skimming a familiar piece of paper. She quickly slid her hand into her back pocket confirming he was indeed reading Jensen’s letter to her.

“Jared…” she said as he looked up at her with his mouth gaping open.

“You’re her! I knew it! I told Jensen it was you. What are the chances that two girls in his life would have the same name. I can’t believe it.” His excitement only made her panic more.

She stepped towards him with her shaking hand reaching for the letter, “Please Jared… just give me the letter.”

He held the letter above his head where she could not reach it, “You’re gonna tell him, right? (Y/N), tell me you’re going to tell him.”

She shook her head, “I-I can’t…”

“(Y/N), you have to tell him. He is moping around his apartment because the wrap party is tomorrow night and hasn’t heard from you. I’ve never seen him like this.” The concern in Jared’s voice made her heart flutter slightly.

He handed her the note and pulled her into a hug, “Between you and me, I think you’re exactly what he needs in his life right now.”

Jared kissed her temple and walked out the trailer door. (Y/N) let out a breath burning within her chest before slumping into one of the chairs and allowing the tears she held to flow freely. After a few minutes, she gathered her things and made her way out to her car. Looking back at the trailer one last time, (Y/N) drove to her apartment downtown. As soon as she was home, she went into her closet pulling out the small chest that held hundreds of letters from Jensen.

She never thought writing a fan letter would put her life on the course it was currently traveling. It started when she tore her ACL at eighteen and ended up watching Days of our Lives as she healed. Instantly, she fell for the blond hair Eric Brady and found that all the actors had a PO Box they received fan letters from. Taking a chance, she wrote Jensen a letter and from there they struck up a friendship. She followed his entire career and he followed her throughout college then theatrical make-up school. When she landed a job on Supernatural, she came face to face with the man who held her heart. Though, he never knew she was the (Y/N) he would write too. Her mail was forwarded from her home in L.A. to Vancouver making Jensen none the wiser that she was his penpal.

(Y/N), Wouldn’t it be amazing if you got a job on Supernatural. I know it would be a long shot, but then we could see each other all the time. It would be nice to have someone other than Jared to hang out with up here. 9 months out of the year with him gets old. I could even take you for a ride in Baby just don’t judge her on how she sounds because it’s not as cool as it is on tv. How did apartment hunting in LA go? Looking forward to your next letter. -J

(Y/N) sat on her bed with the chest open and added Jensen’s latest letter to it. She grabbed her phone pulling up her text thread with Jensen and sent him a message before losing her nerve.

“Hey Jensen, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out and have dinner at my place? Something I need to talk to you about.”

His reply was immediate, “Be there in 30.”

(Y/N) ordered from their favorite Mexican place that would cater on set and anxiously paced around until there was a knock on her door. As she opened it, Jensen was standing next to a delivery man chuckling. He quickly pulled out his wallet and paid for the meal before she could say anything.

Stepping aside, he walked inside looking around her living room. (Y/N) grabbed the bag with their food and made her way towards the kitchen, “Make yourself at home. Would you like a beer?”

“Sure. Thanks for inviting me over. I was looking for an excuse not to pack up my apartment.” Jensen’s deep voice sent goosebumps all over her body.

She took a deep breath before grabbing two beers, a couple of plates and their food. They sat in her living room eating and reminiscing about their time on Supernatural. Conversation between them was natural and easy flowing like water. Once they were done eating and both of them were onto their second beer a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Jensen leaned back into her couch and placed his feet up on her coffee table.

(Y/N) swallowed the large lump in her throat before pulling out the chest that contained the truth she had been withholding from him. Sitting at the other end of the couch she placed it between them, “This.”

Jensen sat up looking curiously at her before he opened the lid. He pulled out a letter and once he found what it contained his olive eyes snapped up at her, “You?”

She nodded silently. Watching him ruffle through every letter he had ever sent her was terrifying and liberating. He put out the most recent letter and began chuckling, “I guess you’re already going to the wrap party.”

“Jensen, I know you’re probably mad that I never said anything. I just didn’t know how to approach the subject. I love receiving your letters and didn’t want that to change. With the show ending and knowing you all these years, it wouldn’t be right for you not to know. I’m sorry.” She was rambling until he reached out and grabbed her hand squeezing it.

He set the chest with the letters on the table and moved closer to her, “I told Jared today that if I didn’t hear from my penpal that I was finally going to have the balls to ask you out.”

“And now…” she asked looking up just in time to see Jensen leaning in and pressing his lips against hers.

“Now, we hang out and do some more of this,” he kissed once again, “and we take it day by day.”

“I like the sounds of that.” (Y/N) snuggled into his side as she turned on the tv trying to find something for them to watch.

After a little while Jensen asked, “If you were going to write me another letter, what quote would you have put at the end?”

(Y/N) laughed getting up and grabbing her 1001 Random Quotes book. She had taken to ending her letters with random quotes that she picked by simply randomly opening to a page and blindly pointing at a quote. She did exactly that then started laughing as she read it.

“A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject. -- Winston Churchill” She looked up to see Jensen smiling, “I guess that explains me in a nutshell.”

Jensen slipped his arm around her shoulders pulling out his phone bringing up his camera, “As my biggest fan I think we need to document this important moment,” he snapped a few pictures of them together.

Suddenly, his phone began chiming rapidly with texts while Jensen started laughing, “Well I now owe Jared twenty bucks since he was right all along that you were my fan penpal.”

“I know he found out earlier today. Honestly, who would believe a story that a fan would be penpals with her favorite actor.” She chuckled as he lifted her chin to have their eyes meet.

“You’ve always been more than just a fan to me, (Y/N).” He leaned in kissing before they snuggled with one another on her couch to continue watching a movie.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby​ @ladywinchester1967​ @akshi8278​ @ericaprice2008​ @deans-baby-momma​ @spnbaby-67​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @-lovepeacenhope-​ @destiel745​ @carribear31​ @srsllydunnodoncare​ @whimsicalrobots​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @starstruckzonkoperatorbat​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @bella-ca​ @drakelover78​ @imascio08​ @pisces-cutie​ @dwgrl1903-blog​ @mannls​ @the-salty-asian​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @xostephanie​ @superromijn​ @witch-of-letters​ @time-travel-bouqet​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @myinconnelly1​ @sister-winchesters99​ @thekatherinewinchester​ @maddiepants​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @sandlee44​ @destielhoneybee​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @stoneyggirl​ @supernaturalginger​ @emoryhemsworth​ @wednesdayismyfunday​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @atc74​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @casseythebee​

#unfic challenge #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles rpf #jensen ackles fluff

[kenzieam]

Us This Way - Oneshot

Rating: M

Warnings: Angst, heartache, some language ****TRIGGER WARNINGS****

Word Count: 4417

Tags: @jewels2876​  @moonbeambucky​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​  @iammarylastar​ @captstefanbrandt​  @badassbaker​  @pinknerdpanda​  @oliviastan17​ @mizzzpink​​

***************************************************************

Okay, so this frickin’ song gets me every time.

Kudos to the beautiful Lady Gaga for this hauntingly beautiful gem.

**************************************************************

Lev swallowed past the lump in her throat, skimmed the note in her hand one last time. She’d wrote and rewrote the words so often in her head she knew them by heart, but it didn’t make reading them any easier.

James,

By the time you sober up and read this, I’ll be gone.

I can’t do this anymore, the drinking, the fights, the lies.

You aren’t the same man I fell in love with, and I can’t say anymore that I’m the same girl you knew either.

When we started this journey, you told me things would never change; that it would be just the two of us, against the world, travelling and sharing your music and voice and I, naively I guess, believed it.

But everything is different. You’re drunk all the time, drinking to excess and its only going to be a matter of time before your followers see it too, there’s already gossip on the fan sites about your behaviour.

And I’m not leaving because of that, I could deal with the alcohol if it weren’t for the craziness that comes with it.

These women aren’t here for you, they’re here for the idea of you, the Rockstar, and I can’t watch you take them into your hotel rooms anymore, I can’t hear you through the walls with them.

I deserve better and, to be honest, so do you but I can’t help you anymore.

God knows I’ve tried.

I hope one day you find peace and closure from whatever haunts you so badly and discover your voice again.

I love you; I always have.

I always will,

Levi

A tear burned hot down her cheek, but she wiped it away absently, clearing her throat. She’d already wasted so many tears, she couldn’t spare any more.

Laying the note silently on the bedside table, Lev took one last lingering glance at the man, her former lover and friend, current rockstar touring and conquering the world, now passed out face down in the hotel bed, back scratched and red from his latest groupie foursome she’d chased out just minutes ago, two or three empty liquor bottles visible among the tangled sheets, then turned and left the room.

*******************************************************************************

A throbbing headache dragged him from oblivion later and, for a time, James just lay there, eyes half-open, trying to piece together the last hours.

He remembered two, or was it three? Groupies: giggling girls with fake tits and trout pouts, wearing little more than ace bandages and laughing at his every word like he was the most charming asshole on Earth and everything that fell out of his mouth was pure gold.

Lev had never put up with his shit. She’d always set him straight with a few well-chosen words, a sharp glare with her hypnotizing violet eyes.

Come to think of it, where was Lev? Usually she was prodding him awake by now, pushing coffee into his face, talking about getting up, getting showered and getting on the damn bus.

Bottles clinked as he moved, struggled in the tangled sheet to push himself upright. His back stung and faint memories surfaced, one of the harpies scratching him, moaning theatrically as he fucked her, wishing it were Levi beneath him still instead of this random stranger.

God, he hoped he’d worn a condom, not that it stopped theses psychos; Christ, every week there was a new accusation, a new girl stepping forward claiming he’d impregnated her.

Thank fuck for his lawyer, Sam Wilson; the man was a gem, with the retainer bills to prove it.

“Lev?” He croaked, wincing as fresh pain shot through his skull.

No answer.

“Lev!” He chanced a shout, growling and grabbing his throbbing temples. “Fuck, where are you?”  

He turned his head, squinting before freezing as his glare landed on the letter.

***********************************************************************************

“So, you just left, huh?” Steve asked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, and staring at it contemplatively.

“Yeah, same as you.” There was a hint of venom in Lev’s voice and the blond man smirked.

“Yeah, same as me. Got tired of the shit.”

“Everyday.”

Steve sighed, staring out at nothing, thoughts a thousand miles away. “Remember when we first started out?”

“You, me and James in that old van? Driving from bar to bar and playing for peanuts?”

“You’d go up on stage when he reached for you, join him for a few songs?”

Lev sighed sadly. “Long time ago, man. We were just fucking kids.”

“Yep, but you two? Timeless. I remember when I first saw you. First day of grade three in Ms. Hawthorn’s class; James elbowed me and said, ‘that’s the girl I’m going to marry’.”

“He did not!” Lev fought a smile, she’d heard this story so many times, her reaction varying from honest disbelief to warm-hearted nostalgia depending on how fresh her latest pain was.

“He did.” Steve replied, smiling fondly. “Couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“Yeah, well… something else has caught his eye now.”

“You can’t save him, Lev. He has to want to save himself.”

“I know… it just hurts.”

“I know.” Steve murmured quietly. “I know.”

*****************************************************************************************

‘Rockstar James Barnes’ newest run-in with the paparazzi, next on TMZ’

Lev groaned and turned off the TV, throwing the remote onto the scarred coffee table.      

Obviously, he was perfectly capable of carrying on with his shenanigans without her, not that her pleas for him to stop had ever fallen on anything but deaf ears.

She glanced at her cell phone, then cursed and purposefully looked away. Every day for years she’d seen his name come up on her display, multiple times a day, through the night and she’d come to expect it.

The calls after she’d left had come heavy and hot, barely a pause in between except for increasingly abusive texts and voicemail messages. When they had changed to broken, mournful, pleading messages she’d thrown her cell away, smashed it for good measure.

It was just habit to look for his name now, a useless throwback.

She had left a month ago and James’ spiral of self-destruction was becoming a nightly news story.

She didn’t envy Pepper, his long-suffering publicist, nor Nick, the rep from Fury Records; word was both were close to dropping him soon, if he didn’t get his act together.

Cursing herself afresh, Lev reached for the remote and flicked the set back on. She was a fucked up as him sometimes, intent on making it hurt.

James’ face appeared on the screen and Lev was shocked at how haggard he now looked, pale and drawn. His hair was lanky, in his face, clothes wrinkled. As the paparazzi swarmed him, leaving the latest club, he glanced up at the cameras and Lev was struck dumb by the utter misery on his face. His eyes were red-rimmed, either from sleep problems (something he’d had more than his share of in the time Lev had known him) or he’d taken up hard drugs.

The pap screamed questions at him, jostling each other and him as he struggled through the mob, the slightly shell-shocked bottle-blonde woman on his arm being all but dragged behind. What security James hadn’t chased off was all but overwhelmed by the reporters and fans, light flashes strobing the scene.

“Just leave me the FUCK alone!” James roared, pushing hard at one spectacled paparazzi, knocking him to the ground and only inflaming the mob more.

Lev felt a surge of fear, mixed in with a healthy dose of rage at the sight. Someone could easily get hurt tonight, lines could be crossed that would never be forgotten. James was juggling with the remains of his career right now and he had the shakes.

“Are the rumors true?” One pap screeched.

“Where’s Lev?” Another yelled and Lev winced. They were still asking him, four weeks into her departure.

“Is the picture of you snorting a white substance outside The Down Low real?”    

Shit.

James didn’t answer beyond a wild-eyed sneer then he was scrambling into a large black SUV, the confused milling of his few remaining security guards telling Lev they hadn’t expected him to drive; then the SUV was screeching away, paparazzi and security scattering like flies, their shouted questions turning into screams of shock and fear and Lev clapped her hands to her mouth, biting back her own scream.

He had totally gone crazy; without Lev there to anchor him, he was dangerously adrift.

The clip ended and the TMZ crew started rehashing it, some expressing sympathy for James and others outright condemning him for losing his shit so badly.

“Does anyone know where she went?” Harvey asked, sipping on his trademark straw.

“Who, Levi Riel?” One the lackeys frowned in confusion.

“Who else?” Harvey laughed. “I mean, James Barnes was a wild man before but now he’s completely off the rails. Something’s happened there but his camp won’t comment. Any luck on contacting Lev herself?”

They’d tried, endlessly, until Lev had smashed her phone and gotten a new number; so far, that hadn’t been leaked but the pap was sneaky and resourceful, Lev had been in the spotlight long enough as James’ gal Friday to know how it worked and she didn’t expect to remain incommunicado forever. Besides, she was already fielding calls from other musicians, hearing she was free and desperate for her services. So far, she’d said no, it was still too raw for her to go back into the industry, but her savings wouldn’t last forever.

Would she be alright? Running into James at an award show somewhere, contracted to another singer, seeing him with some other woman (not that that was in any way new), or perhaps worse, doing just fine now without her? How long would he last like this? There were plenty of examples out there of musicians who’d self-destructed, died by suicide or misadventure, and if James had been spotted snorting white powder already, he was well on his way to joining the club.

Her phone rang and Lev almost dropped her glass, despite staring at the damned thing almost compulsively looking for James’ name, the sound still made her heart race.

“Hey, Steve.”

“You saw that?” His voice was resigned. “TMZ?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Every miserable second.”

“You going to tell me to go back to him?” A part of Lev wanted Steve to say no, but a larger part wanted to hear yes.

“No. I was going to tell you to make sure you stay the hell away. This isn’t your mess anymore, hon.”

“But… my leaving-”

“Didn’t do anything, he was already circling the drain, you were right to get yourself out when you did.”

Lev blinked back tears, wiped them angrily away. “When did it all go so wrong, Steve?”

He exhaled sadly. “Who knows? After Clint overdosed?”

“After my miscarriage?” Lev whispered, the memory of James holding her, crying with her on that hotel bathroom floor, blood smeared on her inner thighs rushed back into her mind’s eye.

They… he’d wanted a child so badly, back in the good years, when they’d lay sated and exhausted in bed together, murmuring softly before sleep claimed them both.

“I want a baby,” he’d whisper, eyes searching hers. “You’d be such a good mama.”

“Not right now,” she’d always answer, although the thought of growing round with his seed sparked heat low in her belly. “It’s not the right time, you’ve had five consecutive number one hits, you’re on top of the world.”

“We are.” He’d reply, reaching up and stroking his calloused thumb over her bottom lip.

“Maybe.” Steve replied softly. “It’s still not your fault, Lev.”

She couldn’t hear anymore; the memories were rushing back too hard and too fast. “Goodbye, Steve.”

********************************************************************************

A part of her expected the call, and she reached for the phone, half-awake, when it rang sometime after two a few nights later.

“Miss Riel?” A clipped, professional voice. “This is Dr. Keening from the UCLA Medical Center, I'm calling about your husband, James.”

********************************************************************************

Lev wouldn’t let herself examine the reasons why she dropped everything and booked the next flight to Los Angeles, maybe it was seeing him so distraught on TV, maybe it was thinking about their past; the way he’d held her so tightly, so lovingly, even as he cried so hard with her that night, the realization so fresh that their child, almost too early to even be called a baby yet, had left them already.

She gave the Uber driver directions then leaned back in the seat, staring out the window without really seeing and, all too soon, the car was pulling to a stop in front of the hospital.

The sterile smell inside made her stomach roil and she almost turned around and left, then squared her shoulders and pressed the elevator button for the right floor.

A nurse directed her to the correct room then had the grace to leave her alone. Lev milled around the hallway for a beat, chewing on her lip and struggling to find a reason, any reason, why she should walk through that door.

This…. He wasn’t her problem anymore, she’d left.

But they could both use some closure.

He was asleep when she entered the room but before she could turn around and leave his eyelids fluttered. He’d always been able to sense when she was near, and that connection apparently hadn’t faded in their separation. The instant his gaze landed on her the cloudiness vanished and a desperate, clinging hope took its place.

“Lev?” His voice cracked with exhaustion, his hand shaking as he reached for her and Lev was surprised by how hard it was to not step forwards and take it, smooth back the dark hair plastered on his sweaty forehead. He’d lost weight, dark rings under his eyes, the muscles that always flexed so deliciously as he moved fading away.

She squeezed her fist around the handle of her bag and waited, not moving forwards.

His fingers twitched, confusion joining the hope. “Levi?” His voice was plaintive.

“What are you doing, James?” She clipped.

“What?” His brow furrowed, his breathing beginning to speed up. Finally, he dropped his hand, pulling it back into his lap, fingers clenching.

“Acting like this? Getting caught by the gossip rags snorting coke? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He’d obviously not expected to be chastised and wasn’t that the heart of the issue; he’d always gotten his way before, the coddled rockstar, no one calling him out with any degree of seriousness, no one but Lev anyway and she’d always caved before laying out any real boundaries, never done something so extreme as leave before.

Was that why she’d come back then, because she felt responsible for this?

The furrow in his brow deepened, the simple hope in his face vanishing. Now came the temper, the short bursts of fury meant to force his will, likening him to a spoiled child, an attitude that Lev regretted not shutting down years ago when it first started raising it’s ugly head.

He stared at her, eyes dark and wounded, “you left,” he hissed.

“I couldn’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” A compulsive snap, he knew exactly what she was talking about, but he’d never owned up to it, never, not once.

“Watch you with all those girls, see you take them into your room, hear you fuck them through the walls, chase their skanky asses out the next morning so I could get you out of your drunken stupor and looking like a human being only to have you treat me like a piece of shit by doing it all over again the next night!” Lev hissed, enraged to feel the prick of tears in her eyes.

For a moment she was surprised to see betrayal flash through his eyes. “They don’t mean anything. They’re just groupies-”

“So that makes it alright? And telling people I’m your wife? What the fuck, James?!”

“Well, you should be!” He snarled. His arm snapped out, sweeping across the rolling table hovering over his bed, loud crashes sounding as everything on it hit the floor. “I fucking asked you enough times!”

He had. So many times, and every time she’d said ‘no’. What had held her back?

“Grow up.” Lev snapped, her face heating. How many times had they argued like this? How many times had they danced this twisted dance?

Too many fucking times.                    

“Fuck you.”

“No, James. Fuck you. I’m done. I don’t know why I came here anyway… I’m, I’m done. Have a nice life, what’s left of it anyway.” She turned to leave before the fury she was feeling was overwhelmed by the hurt and disappointment; what had she expected? Why did she always do this? Hadn’t she learned yet that he would never grow up and be the man she saw deep inside him? When would she stop hurting herself trying to draw that out?

She needed to stop trying.

“Hey. What are you doing?” James demanded but Lev ignored him, marching back out the door she’d just entered moments ago. “Hey!”

Lev stopped and took a deep breath, collecting her words. Without turning she swiveled her head enough to look at him.

“I’m done, James. I can’t watch you self-destruct anymore. I tried for years to be there for you, because I love you… but I can’t do this anymore, I need to live my own life.” Without waiting for an answer, she swiveled back, let her feet carry her away even as she felt her heart break anew in her chest.

If this was the right thing, why did it hurt so bad, why did she feel like she was abandoning him just when he needed her the most?

“Levi!” His voice broke on the scream, reverberating around her in the hallway but she didn’t turn back.

******************************************************************************

Ten Months Later

Lev sorted through her mail, separating the junk from the real then paused, lifting a large, cream coloured envelope from the pile.

Who sent letters anymore?

Splitting the seal, Lev pulled out folded sheets of thick paper, the same colour of the envelope, definitely expensive. As it opened, another smaller piece of paper fell out and Lev reached for it, brows drawn in confusion.

JAMES BARNES – STRIPPED BARE

A SPECIAL EXCLUSIVE, ACCOUSTIC ONLY ENGAGEMENT

She stopped reading, dropping the ticket to the table, and focussed on the letter instead.

Levka.

It’s been a while since we spoke, but I wanted to send you this anyway.

I understand why you left, and I applaud you for having the strength to do it. It seems to be the kick he finally needed.

James took a break from music, as you may or may not have realized but has recently decided to return, albeit in a much different capacity from before.

He has done away with the show, or ‘bullshit’ as he so eloquently puts it. No more pyrotechnics, no more lightshows and theatrics; he said he wants to return to the way he started, just him and his guitar, the band behind him.

Enclosed is a ticket to his first show and a plane ticket, first class, to reach it. The seat is in the back, where James won't be able to see you, if that is your wish.

I leave it up to you whether you attend but understand that James has not asked me to do this, and I have not told him I have.

Regards, Pepper

Lev stared at the letter for a full minute, marveling despite herself at the publicist’s flowing handwriting, her graceful hand.

She had stayed with James after all, even when Lev had left.

The second sheet was a printed plane ticket, leaving the next morning. Lev, if she took it, would land in mid-afternoon, giving her a few hours to gird herself before going to the show.

She recognized the venue listed; James had played it in his earlier years, just as he was starting to become famous and it was smaller, intimate, suited to an unplugged show. The seat shown was in the back, just as Pepper said; Lev could attend the show and leave again without James ever seeing her.

But did she want to?

What would it feel like to see him again, to hear him sing again the way he used to, his voice clear and full? When he’d reach his hand out to her, pull her onstage and sing with her, gaze at her so lovingly as they shared a microphone, voices melding and complimenting each other so beautifully?

Could she handle seeing him again?

She hardly knew.

*************************************************************************

Taking a deep breath, Lev opened the door and stepped inside. Other ticket holders milled around, no one paying her any mind. She prayed no one would recognize her, going so far as to dye her auburn hair a lustrous blue-black, switch out her contacts for the thick wayfarer frames she usually only wore in quiet moments spent relaxing or working from home.

The show was going to start in only a few minutes, but Lev resisted the urge to find her seat just yet, drifting until she gathered the will to enter the main area.

Finding her seat, Lev stared at the stage, hardly noticing as others shuffled to find their own places. Although small, the venue appeared to be sold out. Scott sat at the drums; Thor held an acoustic bass and James sat on a stool at the front, head bent over his favourite redwood acoustic guitar, the one he’d always said reminded him of Lev’s hair.

One jean-clad leg bent, worn biker boot on the footrest, he looked better than Lev remembered. Some of his physique had come back, thigh straining the jean’s stitching, biceps visible through the t-shirt he wore as he plucked the strings slowly, listening for the sound.

He looked good. He looked healthy again, his hair lustrous under the light, cheeks dark with just the right amount of stubble, fingers strong and sure, the boot flat on the stage floor tapping slowly to the beat in his head.

Lev felt a riot of emotions swell in her chest. This was the James she’d fallen in love with, the man she’d spent their early years with, before the vampire of fame began to bleed him dry.

He lifted his head, flashed a gorgeous smile at the audience and the show began.

It was beautiful, James’ voice strong and clear; the audience sat spellbound, hypnotized and Lev knew he’d made the right decision; to go back to his roots, let his talent speak for itself. He would enjoy a long career like this, unplugged and real.

Time passed like the blink of an eye and suddenly, too suddenly, James was standing, setting his guitar in its rest and stepping to the side of the stage. The spotlight followed, leaving Thor and Scott in the dark and illuminating a gleaming grand piano. The audience cheered in building excitement as he sat, adjusted the microphone.

He had not played piano is one of his shows for years, Lev wasn’t even sure he knew how to anymore.

The din died down, waiting and James looked out over them as he began to speak, a small, sad smile pulling at his lips.

“A while ago my life fell apart,” he stated simply. “I got tangled up in fame and being a rockstar and pushed away everyone that cared. Even Lev, the most important person in the world to me.”

Lev felt her cheeks warm, edginess creeping into her limbs. Was he about to blast her? Was she about to get her proverbial ass handed to her? Did he know she was here?

“She left,” he continued. “And I crashed. The only woman I’ve ever loved, and I hurt her everyday until she couldn’t take my bullshit anymore.” He swiped at a tear and Lev bit her lip.

“I hit rock bottom and Lev came to see me one more time. But instead of being grateful, of begging her for another chance, I acted like a total asshole and pushed her away again. And that was finally it, Lev leaving me like that was the push I needed to get my life together. I haven’t seen Lev since, I don’t deserve to…. but I owe everything to her.”

Lev heard sniffles around her.

“A while ago I heard this song for the first time. It made me cry like a baby and I listened to it for hours, until I couldn’t cry anymore. It brought about this idea I had about ‘stripping bare’ and starting over again…. This song is for you, Lev. I love you, baby.”

He focussed on the keys and a haunting melody began. Lev recognized it immediately, for it too had provoked her own tears the first time she’d heard it.

That Arizona sky burnin’ in your eyes.

You look at me and, babe, I wanna catch on fire.

It’s buried in my soul, like California gold.

You found the light in me that I couldn’t find.

His voice was heart-breaking, emotion pouring through as he sang, the piano a poignant, moving accompaniment, his fingers sure on the keys.

So when I’m all choked up,

But I can’t find the words.

His voice broke, but he pushed through.

Every time we say goodbye baby, it hurts.

When the sun goes down

And the band won’t play,

I’ll always remember us this way.

The band joined in quietly and Lev was lost in the sound, swaying slightly to his beautiful voice as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Too soon, the song ended, James’ head bowing as he breathed the last words, the last notes fading and the audience sat still, stunned silent for a beat before exploding.

Lev exhaled raggedly, wiping at her tears. As she watched, James tipped his head back, tears shining on his face and swallowed hard, seeming to gather himself before returning to the show.

The crowd continued to scream and cheer as James nodded once in acknowledgement, the smile on his lips tempered by the pain in his eyes.

He was open and vulnerable, stripped bare and he’d never been more beautiful in Lev’s eyes.

God, she still loved him, but was that enough?

Was she the key to his success, or the poison?

Should she go to him, step through the crowd and join him onstage, forgive him and start their next chapter together?

Or leave, let them both live their lives and follow the song, simply ‘remember us this way’?

She decided.

#bucky barnes #au bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #au bucky angst #bucky and lev #bucky and levi #au bucky fanfic #au bucky barnes fanfiction #au bucky drama

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Weak Heart

*Tom Hiddleston x Reader

*Request from Wattpad: “Can I request a song fic for Tom Hiddleston. The song is weak heart by zara larsson”

*Warnings: Kinda unhealthy relationship, vague references to sex and alcohol. Let me know if I missed anything.

*A/N: As we all know I’m terrible at doing requests in a decent time frame. This request was from back in June (I think?) but I had fun writing it (and listening to the song while I was working). Happy Holidays everyone!

Song || My Ko-Fi

**********

Early morning / Someone's calling / Who could this be? / Reach my phone and / Your name showing / On my caller ID / I decline / then change my mind / and call you back up

When you first met Tom, the first thing you noticed about him was his charm. Well, the second thing. Of course you saw how attractive he was, and when you found out just how nice he was on top of that? He got ten times more attractive. You met him on set - it was your first leading role and he was an absolute dream to work with. He could tell you were a little nervous and was willing to do anything to help you put forth your best performance.

Late nights working with him, shooting scenes and running lines, dinners and drinks shared, they all added up to the biggest crush on someone that you saw as so incredibly out of your league. On wrap day, you decided to just go for it. You, of course, ran all the information by your friends before coming to this decision, not wanting to risk an awkward press junket. Once you got the go ahead that it seemed like he was into you, you went ahead and asked him on a date.

There were a few months that things had to go long distance, but knowing that you’d be reunited soon made it worth it. Both of you would fly out to visit the other for a few days at a time, and you could say that you were legitimately happy with the new relationship. It worked until it didn’t.

Once the press junket was done and each of you started working on your own projects, it was just incredibly difficult to find time for each other. The week or so every month shrunk to a few days at a time, then to one day, and then to nothing for a couple months. You knew it would be difficult - you were both fairly sought after, especially after your movie together - but you didn’t realize it would be like this. The promises you made at the beginning to call every day, video chat every weekend, text throughout the day seemed less and less feasible, and they didn’t even happen all that often. You weren’t yourself, and the people around you started to notice. You spent your days looking at your phone, waiting to see if he’d sent you a text, or maybe even tried to call you. It took nearly a year of this going on for you to finally end things when the two of you happened to be in New York for your own interviews.

It had been nearly a year after your whole situation ended, but you still missed him dearly. There were no ill feelings towards him. It wasn’t like the two of you ended on terrible terms; it was a simple case of right person, wrong time. The memories of the good times were still there, but there just weren’t enough to override the months of loneliness and hurt you went through.

You didn’t know what time it was when your phone blared on the bedside table, but you knew it had to be early from the darkness still outside. You blindly grabbed for your phone, trying to make yourself the slightest bit aware. When you checked just who was calling you at this ungodly hour, you nearly dropped your phone. Hiddleston.

You immediately declined the call, trying to calm your racing heart. It took a few seconds before you changed your mind, calling back. He picked up before you could even have the chance to steady your nerves.

“Hey,” he said. It’d been a while since you heard his voice like this. Sure, you saw his interviews every now and then, but this was different. Like it was just for you.

“Hey.” You didn’t know what else you could say. What do you say to the person you were still in love with, even though you ended things a year ago? What are you even supposed to do?

“I’m sorry, I forgot about the time difference. What time is it for you?” Tom asked. You could tell he was trying to do small talk, to get past the initial awkwardness.

“It’s five in the morning, Tom. Are you in London?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” It was something that happened a fair bit when the two of you were dating. Tom would forget that there were a full eight hours between the two of you, calling at odd hours in the morning until the two of you found a time that really worked. “Have you talked to your agent lately?”

“Not since yesterday, no. What have you heard?”

“I’m going to be starting work on a project soon, and they asked if I had any people in mind to be my costar. I could only think of you.” There was something else, a deeper meaning behind his words. Maybe you were overthinking it, but you swore there was the slightest bit of longing there. Why would he recommend you for a role when there was bound to be an awkwardness between you? Did he miss you like you missed him? “I understand if you don’t want to work with me, but please read the script at least. I think you’ll like it.”

And there was the charm that made you fall for him. “Yeah, I’ll read it. I can be professional.”

“Great.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, uh, (y/n)? I’m really glad you didn’t block me.” You wouldn’t admit it, but you were too. The two of you didn’t have anything else to talk about, so the call ended fairly soon after that. You couldn’t convince yourself to just go back to sleep. Your mind was racing and you couldn’t convince your body to just lay still. Now that you knew you should be expecting a call from your agent in the next few hours, there was no way you could relax. So instead you were pacing your living room, Netflix playing on your tv just to provide some background noise. What would you do when you saw him again?

You come over / I say slow now / This can't go on / Grab a chair, please / Sit right there it's / Time we had a talk

The second you walked in to the table read, you spotted him. It would’ve been hard to miss him, chatting with some others, that heart-melting smile bright on his face. You didn’t know what to do. There was the part of you that wanted to go up to him, just go back to the time when things were good, act like nothing happened over the past couple of years. But then there was the part of you that was stuck on the times you spent waiting by the phone, the moments you wanted him there for you, all the times he just wasn’t. It wasn’t his fault, with both of you having busy schedules and then the time difference between you.

You found your way over to the refreshments, sipping on some water as you watched the room. There were some others you recognized from your projects over the years, but no one you could easily mesh with to distract you until the table read started. Just as you were going to attempt to join some conversation, you saw the moment Tom realized you were there. He did a double take before quickly excusing himself from his conversation, quickly crossing the room to be by your side.

“(Y/n), it’s been a while,” he told you, a shy little smile gracing his lips.

“Yeah, it has been,” you said. “How have you been?”

Catching up was easy. You had forgotten just how easy it was to be with him, how easy it was to talk to him and just be yourself. The two of you talked until it was time for the table read to start, and once the table read was over, Tom invited you to grab some dinner. You knew you shouldn’t say yes, but the little hopeful look he had was too much. You sent your manager a text, letting them know they wouldn’t have to send a car for you.

It was too easy to fall back into step with Tom. You tried to remember what it was like when the two of you were apart, busy with your own schedules and lives, but when he was here next to you, it was so easy to forget. You could see things going back to the way they were with the little things - running lines together, getting lunch or dinner with one another, not even mentioning the time you nodded off in his trailer and woke up to him skimming through his script, sneaking looks at you like a schoolkid with a crush - and you needed to sort things out before they got out of hand.

“Are you kidding me? It’s a suicide mission!” You yelled at him, stepping just a smidge too far into his personal space.

“It’s what needs to be done. You know we have to do whatever it takes,” he said calmly, looking down at you. You could feel your body burning at the gaze, but he what he was saying was pure insanity. Almost automatically, you brought your hand up to smack him, but he easily caught your wrist, turning it and forcing your arm down.

“You can’t do this,” you choked out as he pulled you closer.

“Say what you actually mean.”

“You can’t do this to me. If you die-”

“Then I’ll just have to not die.” He said it like it was so easy. Before you could say anything, he pulled you in, kissing you soundly, passionately. When he pulled back, he gave you a knowing smile. “It’ll be easy, especially with you watching my back.”

“And cut! That was great guys,” the director said, pulling you out of the scene. You and Tom looked over at him, still standing way too close than you should have once the shot ended. “We should probably do another take or two just in case, but I want you guys to keep that energy. Take twenty minutes then come back.”

“Thank you!” You and Tom said at the same time, finally putting some distance between the two of you. As soon as you were far enough off set, you pulled Tom to the side. You tried not to notice how right your hand felt in his, dropping it quickly.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked as soon as you were somewhat secluded from the rest of the crew.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Listen, I think we should talk about whatever’s going on here,” you huffed, looking away. You didn’t know how you were supposed to actually have this conversation with him when you were struggling to even look at him after bringing it up. “Just… come with my to my apartment after shoot. We shouldn’t have this conversation on set.”

“Yes, of course.” It was almost amazing how fast Tom got serious. You only needed to finish these last few takes and then you’d be free to have this conversation. If only you could figure out what you wanted to say.

The apartment you’d been renting for the shoot was cold and empty when you got back, Tom following close behind. You made a beeline for the kitchen, putting your bag down on the counter as you went to grab something to drink. Tom stood awkwardly, watching as you went about your little routine. “Uh, well, feel free to sit wherever. Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” Tom said as he took a seat at the breakfast bar. You stayed on the opposite end of the counter, needing the distance between the two of you. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Forgive me if I’m the only one seeing it, but have you noticed something happening here? Like, how it was before we got together last time?” You asked, not daring to look at him. Maybe you were just reading too much into it, and he was just being the polite person he was known to be. Maybe you’d just forgotten that was how he was with everyone.

“(Y/n), darling, could you look at me?” His soothing voice drew your eyes up to his. “I didn’t want to come on too strong, but working with you again was just an excuse to be near you. Of course I think you’re perfect for the role, and I love working with you, but I missed you and I didn’t know how to get you back in my life. I’ve missed you more than you could know.”

You looked back at the counter, your heart pounding. You must have heard him wrong. There was no way he wanted you back. Every bit of pain you felt when the two of you were together - or, more accurately, apart - came rushing back. “We can’t do this again.”

You heard Tom move, probably getting off of the stool. Before you knew it, you felt one of his hands on your shoulder as the other one tilted your chin up. Your breath hitched at his proximity, reminding you of the scene earlier. “And why not?”

“Not when we both get so busy and we can’t even properly be together. We both have careers, we live on opposite ends of the world,” you said. He hushed you, gently enough that you weren’t annoyed by it like you would’ve been otherwise.

“We can figure it out this time, get it right,” he reassured you. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

You let yourself relax in his hold, and Tom took the moment to search your face before leaning in slowly, still giving you enough time to push him away or move. The kiss was different from the ones you shared on set, actual emotion poured into this one. It was more than your characters sharing a heat-filled moment before a dangerous mission, it was just you and Tom. Tom kissed you softly, but that didn’t mean there was any less passion behind it.

When you woke the next morning, Tom’s arm was a solid weight around your waist, holding you close to his bare chest. The memories of the previous night flooded back. There wasn’t much talking once he kissed you, but there was touching. Soft, gentle touches like both of you were worried of scaring the other away. Light kisses pressed to bared skin, not wanting to leave any marks for the makeup team to deal with the next day. There would be time for pure lust later, the two of you only concerned with reacquainting yourselves with one another. Tom stirred beside you, pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder as you melted into his touch. You could worry about the consequences later.

So I'mma keep singing this sad song / It never felt better to be wrong

It was easy to slip back into the way things had been at the beginning of your relationship the first time around. You didn’t want to tell anyone you were together again - knowing how the rumor mill ran wild, and that was without the tabloids being involved - but it was almost embarrassing how obvious it was. If one of you had a scene and the other didn’t, the other could always be found nearby, watching with a fond smile. The chemistry you had in scenes together was insane, enough so that your director commented on it. Everything just seemed to fall into place.

When you weren’t needed on set, the two of you spent the night together at one of your apartments. You fell into an easy routine: cooking dinner with each other when you weren’t exhausted (getting takeout when you were), watching something together or running lines before you had to head to bed, cuddling until you fell asleep. It was more domestic than when you dated before, and it just felt right. You knew your time like this was limited, but you couldn’t help to try to forget it. You just wanted to enjoy it while you could.

Before you knew it, wrap day was here. You were immensely proud of the work you and everyone else had done for the movie, but you couldn’t help to worry about what exactly this meant for your rekindled relationship. Even as you finished the last scene and everyone applauded for the end of the shoot, the thought was still at the back of your mind. You were supposed to be overjoyed, glad for the chance to have even a short break, but you couldn’t get too lost in the moment. You smiled and chatted with the rest of the lingering cast and crew before they had to start cleaning up, trying to ignore the slight feeling of dread you had. Apparently you hadn’t done a good job at it, especially when Tom pulled you aside after you got invited to drinks with the rest of the cast. 

“Are you okay, darling?” Tom asked, searching for something in your look. “You did fantastic, but are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m just kinda sad we’re actually done.” You looked away, worried he’d be able to tell somehow.

“That’s not entirely true, now is it?”

You sighed. Of course he could tell. “I mean, you’re going back to London now, aren’t you?”

“Darling, you don’t have to worry about that. We said we’d figure it out the right way this time, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, but we haven’t even really talked about what we mean by that.”

“How about after drinks with the rest, we get food and go back to my apartment to talk through it? And we still have the rest of the week before you go back to LA, right?”

“Right.” You didn’t know how exactly you guys were supposed to talk through it - you thought you had done a pretty good job at that the first time around - but you were willing to believe he had the answers. He had to have the answers this time.

Yeah, I've a weak heart, baby, I've a weak heart

You had to admit, there were times when you wondered why you were going through this yet again. Though this time was significantly better than the last, there were still times when you needed Tom there and he just couldn’t be there. Even though the two of you tried making trips to see each other, your work schedules and just life in general got in the way of spending any significant periods of time together. Phone and video calls became the most frequent form of communication, with most calls happening first thing in the morning for you, the middle of the afternoon for Tom. Just the fact that you guys talked every day made it seem worthwhile to hold onto.

“Darling, you sound like you’re still asleep,” Tom joked as you groaned, covering your eyes with your arm.

“That’s because I kinda am. I’m not supposed to go back for filming for another couple days,” you told him. “Waking up this early is actual hell, I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve gotten used to it, though it is harder to leave when you’re sleeping next to me.” You couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not, but you knew he did linger a little longer when you were visiting one another. “How’s the show been going?”

Though you normally didn’t take part in pilot season, a show writer had come to your agent with a chance that you couldn’t pass up. You’d worked with them a couple times when you were just starting out, and now they wanted you to star in a new drama. You talked about it with Tom a few times, not wanting to really say anything until you knew if the show got picked up by a network or not. “It’s definitely going. I really like the people I’m working with, I think you’d get along with a few of them.”

“Is that so?” Tom seemed slightly distracted, but as far as you knew, he wasn’t supposed to be doing anything today. You could hear sounds of the city around him, like he was taking a walk or something.

“What are you up to? You seem kinda… I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, darling. Just give me a few minutes and you’ll have my full attention, I promise.” You held in the sigh that you wanted to give so bad, a little annoyed that the half hour you normally spent on the phone during the day was being interrupted.

“Alright. Do you want me to keep talking or do you want to tell me about the project you just signed on to?”

“Tell me more about your show, I want to hear your voice. I’ve missed it.”

“We talked yesterday.” You couldn’t help but smile even as you teased Tom. He was so sweet without even really intending to be. The moments that made you melt were always just Tom being honest. It was insane what that man did to you.

“Indulge me, please sweetheart?” You couldn’t say no to him.

As you were in the middle of telling a story from the first table read when you heard knocking at your door. You groaned as you finally got out of bed, making Tom laugh. You told him to wait for a second as you put your phone down on the counter, going to answer the door. You were glad you put down your phone, because the second you opened the door, you knew you would have dropped it. “Tom?”

“I was going to use the spare key, but I didn’t want to worry you by just coming in,” Tom explained, hanging up the call on his end. Just as he put his phone in his pocket, you launched yourself forward to hug him. He laughed as he held you close.

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“I’m here, darling. I’ll be here for at least a couple months before my next project starts.” You pressed your face into the crook of his neck, trying to ground yourself in the reality that he was here. You knew he wouldn’t be here for as long as you’d like, but he was here now, and you wanted to savor the time you had with him. Even if things weren’t the way you imagined, the way you would’ve preferred, he was here now, and that was enough. You could ignore the ache in your heart when he was gone, the nights spent alone, everything, if it meant you could have moments like this.

**********

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness, @laic2299

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #marvel imagine #celebrity imagine

[sunlight-moonrise]

The Price (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader is a technical analyst for the BAU. She did not expect to be smitten by the resident genius. 

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic as well as my first time writing smut. I’d like to thank @spencer-reid-in-a-pool​ for beta reading my work (you’re a gem and I’ll fight for you). Also a quick thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins​ and those in the discord for being so welcoming and helping me with this. The fic is inspired by @erin-bo-berin​ Sweet Cheeks. 

Category: Fluff and Smut

Content Warnings: Oral (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex

Word Count: 6.0K

Masterlist

There are a lot of things I enjoy about this job. The salary is decent. My coworkers are pretty cool. I get to interact with a sexy genius from time to time- you know, the usual that comes with being employed by the government.

I started as a technical analyst for the BAU a few months prior, working alongside the one and only Penelope Garcia with assisting the rest of the team behind some computer screens. Coding and hacking is second nature to me so the job is not too difficult. It was either this or facing some years in jail because I couldn’t cover my tracks fast enough. Looking at mangled and mutilated bodies on a weekly basis is better than prison.

I get along rather well with the team. I pretty much call everyone by a term of endearment, much to Garcia’s delight. It was one of the things we had in common and helped us get along with one another much faster. I sometimes can get carried away with the innuendos, but Garcia welcomes everything I say with open arms.

I typically save my more sensual remarks for the doctor. I remember the good old days when he used to be so tongue-tied by my actions. Now my words barely surprises him.

A voice broke my concentration. “What got you thinking so hard, angel?” I turn towards the person, a smile already adorning my face. Lo and behold, Dr. Spencer Reid has graced me with his delectable presence.

“Would you believe me if I said that I was thinking of you Doc?” He had a small smile on his face. I could pretty much categorize all the smiles he uses because of how often I stare at him. I mean, it is a tragedy to not stare at such beauty. This particular smile means that he is content and comfortable.

“May I ask exactly what it was that you were thinking about?” he asked. 

“I cannot share the sordid details of my mind with you just yet darling. You’ll just have to use that beautiful mind of yours and conjure up something imaginative.”

He let out a small laugh and helped me carry the files I was juggling. My eyes immediately went to his hands. The things I’ll let those hands do to me. I bet only one is needed to perfectly wrap around my -- No bitch, focus. We got a case to present in five minutes. Right, right. Work now, daydream later.

We entered the conference room, where the rest of the team was already sitting at the round table, waiting for us. I gave out the files with Spencer’s help while Penelope started up the monitor.

“You guys are staying local but time is of the essence” she informed us. The TV lit up with four pictures of young boys. “We have a kidnapping case at Stafford County.”

“Were they kidnapped at the same time or place?” asked JJ as she skimmed over the report I handed out earlier.

“No” I said as I pointed to the two younger boys on the screen. “Jacob Rivers and David Hall were taken from their respective homes 48 hours ago” I then pointed to the two slightly older boys “Benjamin Harris was taken 12 hours ago at a park and Scott Turner was taken from the mall less than 6 hours ago.”

“Do these boys have anything in common?” Morgan asked out loud.

“Other than physical appearance and age group, these boys don’t have any similarities. They didn’t even go to the same school. As a matter of fact, David Hall was home-schooled.” replied Garcia.

“Garcia and I couldn’t find any common ground in the families’ educational, economic, or social backgrounds either” I added. “Once you guys take off, we’ll do a further dive into their personal histories.”

“The UnSub is already escalating, kidnapping from a private home and kidnapping from a crowded area within hours of each event is fairly drastic” Rossi stated.

“Maybe the Unsub is on a time frame? They could be feeling pressured and desperate” Emily questioned, trying to come up with some kind of initial profile.

Hotch already started standing up. “We’ll know more after analyzing the crime scenes and talking to local PD. Let’s head out.” The rest of the team followed, gathering their files and making an exit towards the door while Garcia headed for our office. Spencer lagged behind a bit and I already knew why. We have a little tradition of bidding farewell to one another before he takes off for a case.

I stood next to him, bumping my shoulder against his upper arm. “Don’t miss me too much while you are out there.”

“The more you remind me I have to leave, the more I want to stay here.” he grinned.

I snorted at his words, knowing that he was full of shit. There is nothing more that Reid loves than being out in the field. “Go be a hero and come back to me in one piece pretty boy.”

“Yes Ma’am.” he replied as he went to follow the team towards the elevator.

I swear that boy is immune to my teasing now. I miss seeing his face become flush, but I also enjoy the playful repartee we have now. I remember the first interaction I had with Spencer quite vividly. It truly was a comical moment.

 “Everyone this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She will be working alongside Garcia.” Hotch stated as he introduced me to the team. I have already met him and Penelope prior to being presented to everyone else.

“Derek Morgan, pleasure to meet you.” Whoa. If tall, dark, and handsome was a person, Morgan would be fit for the role. He offered his hand, which I immediately took.

“The pleasure is all mine” I replied with a wide smile.

I directed my attention to a much older gentleman. “David Rossi” said the Italian man who reminded me of a mob boss.

“Charmed to meet you.” I shook his hand, surprised by the strength behind it. Those older bones are still working for him.

Next came the petite blonde, whose figure I was both envious and enamored with. “Jennifer Jareau, but everyone here calls me JJ for short.”

“In that case, please call me (Y/N/N).” I shook her hand, and became even more envious with how soft her skin was. She has got to tell me her secrets.

I focused on the brunette with shoulder-length hair. “Emily Prentiss”. My God, I think being attractive is a requirement for this team. She offered her hand to shake and her grip was firm. Note to self, forget about Rossi; don’t get on Emily’s bad side.

“Nice to meet you.”

I turned to the final individual and was blown away by his beauty. Yup, my previous thought has been confirmed. Only good-looking people are allowed pass these doors. His bone structure looked like it was sculpted by Roman artists. His body was lean and slender, reminding me of a runner’s physique. My eyes stared up to the softest hazel eyes I have ever seen.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.” he introduced. I offered my hand immediately, wanting to feel his skin against mine.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), but you already knew that,” I said softly, my hand still out. He just stared at it as if it was an anomaly.

“Uh-the amount of pathogens passed through a handshake is astounding. A high five transmit half the number. But even then, a kiss is much more safe.” he quickly stated as he nodded his head. I almost didn’t catch any of it. Partially because of the rapid speech, partially because I was staring at his lips.

“Hmm, that’s news to me. However, if a kiss is what you want…” I lowered my hand and took a step closer to him. My eyes slowly moved from his eyes to his mouth and then back up. He took a slight step back.

“N-N-No, that’s not—I-I mean that —uhh...” His face was flushed and his tongue shot out to run against his lips. His eyes quickly darted across the room, seeking some help. I felt a sense of pride knowing I made this man flustered.

“I’m just teasing Doc.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was frightened by me. Maybe he was, but the blush on his face and the way he kept staring gave me further information on him.

“Don’t mind Reid,” Morgan said, coming to the young man’s rescue. “He has a thing with germs.” He finished, a smirk plastered on his face. Well, I hope he soon develops a thing for something else. Or rather someone else.  

I was just about to make another sly comment when Hotch interrupted. “Back to the case at hand.” He gave us all a pointed look. Right, I am at my first day at work. I’ll focus on hot doctors with hotter smiles and the hottest face at my own time.

“Yes sir,” Garcia stated, as she started pushing buttons on a remote. The TV turned on and pictures of three different women showed up on the screen. They all looked to be strangled to death. “You guys are needed in Toledo, Ohio.” Garcia goes on to describe the case while the team starts the early stages of conducting a profile.

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says and the everyone disperses. Garcia walked up to me and handed me some documents from the case file.

“C’mon cupcake, we gotta do some preliminary work to get the case going much faster.” I followed her to what she called the “bat cave”. I scanned the small room and immediately fell in love. Computers and monitors littered almost every inch of the place. I saw a lot of colorful knickknacks displayed on one side of the desk, knowing already who they belonged to. The area was endearing and had a cozy feel to it.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. This place is a dream come true.” I am sure she can hear the awe in my voice.

“I know, right. Wait until you actually use it girlie, the framework on these things is out of this world.” I sat myself on a chair nearby and rolled in front of a screen.

“Alrighty. You can do some background checks on these girls while I gather more information from the police reports. Let me know if there are any commonalities among any of them. We’ll relay that info with the team.”

“Gotcha babe, I’ll have the information ready ASAP.” I responded, already typing away on the computer. I’m already starting to like it here.

*Later that day*

Garcia and I haven’t found much in common between the victims of the crimes, much to our dismay. I was left in the office to continue searching for important information on the girls while she went to fax some data to the precinct when the phone started to ring.

I quickly answered and put it on speaker. “(Y/L/N) at your humble service. How may I serve you?”

“Oh-uh is Garcia around” replied a high-pitched voice, which I immediately recognized as Reid. I don’t know whether or not I should be insulted that he wanted Penelope or pleased that I probably still have him flustered.

“She’s a bit pre-occupied at the moment. But rest assured I can find whatever you need Doc. Especially if you ask nicely.”

“Uh-I need you to pull up information on the mothers. We think they were all in the same sorority, however not necessarily at the same time. We need a list of all the members of the sorority from the time the mothers joined with a 3-year pre- and post-graduation.”

“No problemo sweetness. Anything else I can do for you? I have a lot of other services that can be helpful.” I stated, a teasing tone in my voice as I already set up my search.

“No-no, that’s all. Um thanks.” I can already picture the blush coating his cheeks as he stammered his response.

“Alright love, call me back if you need anything. Or if you change your mind.” I hung up the phone and started organizing the list in front of me.

 And from then on, I have enjoyed pretty much all the moments I had with the BAU. It took some time, but Spencer now has accepted and even returned my little flirtations.  We often get compared to Garcia and Morgan. But with a lot more sexual tension, at least on my end. I have to remind myself from time to time to calm down before I combust in the middle of a conference room or the bullpen. C'est la vie.

I made my way to the cavern of all things amazing and settled in front of my computers. Pen looked at me with a knowing expression on her face. “You’re gloomy.”

I pouted as I put my earpiece on. “I am not gloomy, I am horny,” I rebuked.

“How long has it been since you got some?”

“I’m not sure but it feels like I have not gotten any since the Stone Age,” I groaned out.

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell him how you feel,” she pointed her pink glittery pen in my direction, “I bet he would fuck you right here if you let him.”

And there goes my thought process, as always, overtaken by Spencer Reid. “Babe, please. This is not helping my situation.”

“Just telling you how it is.”

●●●

We have been sitting in front of these screens for hours. The team has made some progress but they’re missing an important piece to fit the puzzle. Garcia has been looking into the background of the neighbors when I heard a small stomach grumble coming from her direction. I let out a laugh as she huffed out “I am going to grab a snack from the breakroom, you want anything boo?”

“If it ain’t alcohol or chocolate, I don’t want it.”

“Noted,” she said as she left the room. I really hope she finds a couple of cupcakes or something.

I continued trying to get information on these missing kids when my headpiece played the Doctor Who theme song, informing me that Einstein was calling in. “Goddess of knowledge and wisdom at your disposal.”

“I didn’t know I had Athena at my fingertips.” How is it possible that nine words have short-circuited my brain just now? Is it the voice or the way he basically called me a Greek Deity? Probably both.

Of course I slyly responded, “Oh my Hephaestus, you have all of me at your fingertips.” I heard a chuckle and I immediately knew it belonged to Morgan. A slight blush crept onto my cheeks when I heard a random voice asking why Spencer called his girlfriend in the middle of a case.

“I should have mentioned that you were on speakerphone.”

“Naughty boy, you know I charge extra for groups.” Now this was followed by some choked out noises and a bunch of giggles. I could only assume the whole precinct was amused by my antics at this point. 

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“I can, for a price.”

“A price?”

“Yes, a price that I would inform you of in private. Now the reason for your call…” I drew out. Thank goodness Garcia wasn’t here. I don’t need her looking at me as if I am a phone sex operator.

“I need you to check foster children between the ages of four and eight within a 25-mile radius. We are looking for a homosexual couple that were looking to adopt but were rejected. The names should be on multiple applications among different sites. Let me know what you find.”

“I’ll have that information at the palm of your hands soon” Meanwhile, I am over here wishing that I was at the palm of his hands.

“Thank you, my Goddess” I can’t help but smile when he says things like this. Since when were the roles reversed in our friendship?

“Anything for a gorgeous worshipper. TTYL.”

Garcia chose that moment to walk back in while I had this silly grin on my face. She stared at me and I already knew what she was going to say.

“If you don’t have a piece of chocolate or a cocktail on you, I am not talking.”

All she did was laugh at me.

●●●

The team was able to find all four boys safely. The UnSubs were a male couple who wanted to adopt but kept facing discrimination against the agencies. It is a shame that they felt they had to resort to kidnapping in order to have a family.

Now Garcia and I are scanning the notes the team faxed to us earlier today. They informed us that they would be back here in half an hour or so.

“Shoot, I didn’t think it would take this long to scan these damn files.” Garcia murmured.  I looked over at her and saw a small stack of documents that still needed to be put into the system.

I walked over and grabbed the pile from her. “Go, I’ll take care of it from here doll.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad. You did your portion of the work already.”

“Don’t you have to be at the rehearsal in 20 minutes? How is the theater going to operate without their main lead?” I placed the documents on my side of the desk and moved to gather Garcia’s belongings.  I picked up her purse and jacket before handing it to her, quickly pushing her towards the door. “I got this, think of it as an IOU.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I owe you big. Thank you sugar, see you tomorrow.” Garcia hurriedly exited the door and headed towards the elevator. 

I looked towards the papers, a low groan leaving my mouth. The faster I go through this, the better.

●●●

I was just finished implementing all the documents into the computer when I heard a knock at the door. I turned around and saw Spencer’s head peeking through. “Evening handsome, to what do I owe this visit?”

“Garcia passed by me a while ago and informed me you were in here finishing some extra work. I wanted to check on you; see if you needed my help.”

“Thanks Doc, but you’re a few minutes too late. I already finished scanning the files. Besides, you’re not the best with technology, much less these computers.”

“Maybe not. But I am a fast learner and I pay close attention to detail.” Either my ears were playing a trick on me or Spencer’s voice lowered an octave or two.

I remembered what Penelope said earlier today and decided to just go for it. “I could collect on that price from earlier.” I leaned against the desk and stared into his eyes. C’mon Doc, pick up the hint. Rather, pick me up instead.

“Well I was thinking that I can get you dinner.” he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

That’s great, but not what I had in mind. “I was hoping for something else” I looked into his eyes, then slowly trailed my eyes downwards. Kiss me. Kiss me. Touch me. Lick me. Fuck me. Kiss me.

Unfortunately, Spencer is not a mind reader. He lowered his head and looked slightly dejected. “Oh well umm—would you prefer to go to a theater?” Oh Doc, you sexy, naïve, intelligent, innocent man. I guess if you want something you have to do it yourself.

I sat on the edge of my desk. “Come here Spencer.”

His head perked up, slightly intrigued since I rarely call him by his name. He walked to where I was sitting but there was still space between us.

“Closer, I don’t bite.” Unless you want me to.

He moved closer to me and I was able to rest my hands on his shoulders. Thankfully the height of the table let us be more at level with one another.

I made sure to look into his eyes as I said “I am going to kiss you. If that isn’t something you want, tell me now.”

He was speechless. His mouth was moving but no sounds came out. If the circumstances were different I would have appreciated seeing his rattled expression once more. I waited a few seconds, but he still has yet to say anything.

“Spen-mmh” before I knew it, his mouth was upon mine. He gently cradled my face as his lips moved against my own. My eyes closed as I felt nothing but bliss. As cliché as it sounds, I was in paradise because of this kiss alone.

His tongue peeked and swiped against my lower lip, trying to have a taste of me. I was more than happy to grant him entrance, a moan leaving my body as his tongue touched mine.

All parts of me were trying to feel him. I had one hand in his hair while the other grabbed onto the back of his shirt. My chest was pressed against his while my legs lazily wrapped around his midsection. His scent was intoxicating to me. It was a coffee-like smell as if he just walked out of a café. He tasted so sweet, all I wanted to do was keep his mouth on mine. But my body needed air so I slowly pulled away.

He tried to catch his breath as his forehead rested against mine. “So you don’t want dinner?”

“Doc the only thing I am hungry for right now is you. We’ll get food afterward, alright?” Spencer nodded his head while licking his lips. My eyes hungrily followed the action and I just had to get another taste. I pulled him towards me, his hands once again holding onto my face. He was much more dominant with this kiss, and I was more than willing to give him the control. His hands then trailed down to my hips and pulled me closer to his pelvis. I jerked against him and was rewarded with a groan.

He squeezed me tighter as his lips broke away from mine once more. He placed a peck on my lips, then my cheek before trailing down my neck. I felt my body heat up as I released a small moan. Fucking hell, he is going to be the death of me and we barely did anything.

Spencer started to lightly nibble on my neck when I pulled him back by his hair. “It is summer and I am not wearing a turtleneck in 80° weather. If you’re gonna give me some hickeys, they better be on my chest.” He murmured something that I couldn’t quite comprehend before undoing the buttons of my blouse.

Hell, I am not the only one who is gonna be undressed so I started unbuttoning his dress shirt as well. It was a race to see who would get the other’s shirt off first. Of course I lost because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. But when his warm lips kissed their way towards the middle of my cleavage, I felt like a fucking champion.

I tried my best to shimmy out of the sleeves of my blouse while Spencer attempted to take my bra off, his lips still leaving a love mark against my chest. Once we got rid of the shirt and the bra, his mouth immediately enveloped one of my nipples.

“Fuck” I yelped loudly, “a little warning next time Doc.”

“Sorry” he muttered as he continued to suck on my breast while palming the other between his dexterous fingers. That had to be the most insincere apology I have ever heard from him. An idea came across my head. I slowly removed his shirt, watching it pool on the floor. I then raked the nails of one hand across his chest while the other pulled against his hair. Hard. He retaliated by lightly biting my nipple. Fuck, the plan backfired. Abort mission, abort the damn mission.

Spencer let out a small chuckle as he pulled away from my breast, an audible pop leaving his mouth. My hands went to his face and I moved him up to look at me. His eyes were dilated and his mouth was swollen. His face was flush and he was taking deeper breaths than usual. He looked so beautiful like this.

He had a dorky smile on his face and I realized that I said the words out loud. I felt my face heat up fast and he swiftly commented “I’d never thought I’d see you be so thrown off because of me.”

He rested his hands against either side of the desk and just looked at me. “Shut up and kiss me.” I hissed, already missing the warmth of his skin against mine.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?” he asked. I was about to reply when he interrupted “Do you want me to kiss you on your lips? Or maybe you want me back on those beautiful breasts of yours?”

Have mercy on me, I never believed Spencer Reid could make me so wet just with his words. Sure, I thought of it, but I didn’t believe it would happen to me.

“Maybe you want me to go lower. Should I place my lips on that pussy of yours?” Oh my fuck, I never want this moment to end. I nodded my head so quickly, I could have sworn I given myself whiplash.

“I want to hear you say it,” he breathed out.

“Yes, yes, please. I want you to eat my pussy. Please.” I begged. Dignity be damned.

“That’s my good girl” How is it possible that he went from the dorky adorable doctor to this assertive, stimulating specimen in a matter of minutes? I didn’t think he had a sensual bone in his body. But I am glad to be proven wrong.

Spencer lowered himself to his knees while I clumsily attempted to rid myself of my skirt and panties. I lifted my lower body up as he pulled the clothing off of me. Penelope would have a field day if she knew that I was sitting butt naked on the desk with Spencer Reid between my legs. Hell, I am having a field day knowing this.

Spencer, being the teasing bastard that he has been for the past few minutes, started kissing my legs first. “That’s not where I said I wanted you to kiss me” I huffed out.

“Hush” was all he said as he continued the slow trail up, making sure to alternate between each leg. I was already breathing as if I have ran a marathon, my patience was waning at this point. Finally, he made his way to where I needed him most. He put his hands on my thighs and pushed them further apart.

My hands landed on top of his head, playing with the curls. “You’re comfortable down there Doc?” I snickered, loving the sight of his head between my legs. All he did was nip my inner thigh harshly. I shrieked at the action. I’m starting to think this man has a tiny biting fetish.

I wasn’t ready for when his tongue parted my folds. I squeaked as he teasingly lapped the arousal that had formed the second he walked into the room. I tried rolling my hips but his hands made me stay put on the desk. I never knew he could hold me down like this. I couldn’t even be mad because the pleasure he was giving me was incredible.

Spencer continued to tease me, his tongue never going where I needed it most. He made sure to explore as much as possible as leisurely as possible. “Spencer, please” I cried out. He let out a small hum, the vibration causing a shiver to rack my body.  

His tongue finally entered me, much to my delight. No amount of imagination could have ever prepared me for the things this appendage can do to me. He continued this soft, flat movement that was driving me crazy. My hands tightened in his hair, hoping he would go a bit faster.

“You taste so good princess, I don’t want this to end.”

“That’s my Queen to you” I jested. He didn’t like that since he responded with a resounding smack against my outer thigh. Ouch, note to self, Spencer doesn’t like being teased during sexy times. Hmm. On second thought, continue to tease Spencer during sexy times.

I felt his finger probe my entrance, moving up and down before pushing inside of me. I let out a distressing whine as he started slowly moving his finger in and out of me, curling as he did so. His mouth was on my clit, sucking and kissing it as if he has done so all his life.

My body started heating up and trembling. I tried, and failed, to roll my hips against the movement. “Spe-Spencer” I wailed. He didn’t relent.

Spencer entered a second finger into me as his tongue gave small, flickering motions against my bundle of nerves. I had to move one hand to my mouth to prevent any loud noises from being heard outside the room. Shit, did we even lock the door?

That thought immediately left my mind as my core started to tighten. Spencer must have known that I was getting close to my orgasm because he moved his fingers more diligently within me. I felt his fingers curl as they pulled out, I felt his tongue lick thoroughly against my pearl, I felt my ecstasy rising within me. It took one more deep press of his fingers and a harsh suck for me to come all over his face. I bit down on my fingers as I moaned out loud.

“That was so much better then what I imagined” I panted out, the words barely coming out comprehensible. I had a giant smile decorating my face.

He pulled his face up, a smug grin gracing his face. “Is this what you were thinking about earlier this morning?” he taunted. I couldn’t even give him a smartass remark because I was too busy trying to come back to reality. He pulled his fingers out and held them in front of my face.

“Open” he ordered. I complied and he pushed his fingers inside of my mouth. “You look so pretty when you follow instructions well. See how good you taste.”

I pulled my head back, taking his fingers out of my mouth. “I bet I taste a lot better on that tongue of yours.”

He tangled his hand in my hair and pulled me to a kiss. I immediately opened and welcomed his tongue against mine. I was right, I do taste better on him. I let out a deep moan and pulled away far enough to gently bite down on his lower lip.

He looks at me, that devilish tongue of his running against his lower lip before entering my mouth once again. With his lips still on mine, he picked me up and move to sit on my desk chair. It was nothing short of a miracle that we managed not to fall on the floor.

I placed my hand on top of his erection through his slacks and he drew a quick intake of breath. I started palming him as I grinded myself against him. I pulled back as I whispered, “I need you, Spencer”.

“Y’know this is the most I have heard you call me by my name in any given moment we have been together.” He unzipped his slacks and pushed down his pants and boxers as much as he could with me on top of him.

I looked down, finally being able to see his cock. Is it possible to get aroused further through sight alone? Because I think I creamed myself again. God, I wish I could show him my oral skills, but we’ll save that for another time.

“Would you rather I call you by something else?” I asked, attempting to move my lower body so that it can align with his cock. I say attempt because Spencer currently had his hands on my thighs again.

“No, I like the way my name sounds as you moan it out. Don’t hide your pleasure from me this time.” He maneuvered my legs to rest upon the armrest on either side of the chair, leaving my pussy wide open for him.

I gave him an incredulous look. “Are you forgetting that we are at work?”

He started rubbing the tip of his cock against my lower lips. “I didn’t forget. I just don’t fucking care.” And with that, he slowly penetrated me.

We both groaned at the intrusion. He gradually started entering me as I adjusted to his size. Inch by inch, he gave me all of him until he was buried to the hilt.  I took a moment to savor the feel of Spencer inside of me before I started grinding against him. He took that as a hint to begin thrusting.

He started slow, taking his time and having us enjoy the feeling of one another. “Your cunt is so fucking tight” he hissed into my ear and I gave out a loud whine.

“That’s because you have such a big cock, Doc” I managed to moan out. He smacked my ass before grabbing each cheek tightly in his hands. “I want you to call me by my name” he grits out.

“Spencer, baby please give it to me. I’ve been waiting for this Spencer, I’ve been waiting for you.” He started kissing my neck once more and my eyes started to closed. I wanted to focus on the pleasure he was giving me.

He tightly grabbed me, moving my hips along with his thrusts. I was close to being pushed over the edge once more. The only sounds occupying the room were our moans and skin smacking against skin as we chased our pleasure.

“Open your mouth” I heard him say. I opened my eyes to see his thumb positioned over my lips. I let out a small whimper as I sucked his digit earnestly. I made sure to coat his finger with a lot of saliva, knowing exactly what he was going to do with it when it was out of my mouth.

He pulled his thumb out and immediately placed it on my clit. I gave out an embarrassingly loud sob as he started moving his finger against me in soft circular motions. I placed my lips on his neck, trying to muffle the noise coming out of my throat.

Spencer quickly grabbed my hair and pulled my head away as he started to slow down. “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to hear your pleasure?” In that moment, Spencer controlled my mind, body, and soul.

“I’m sorry Spencer. I’ll be your good girl, please don’t stop.” He returned back to the previous pace and thrust into me even harder. We both started chasing our orgasms, not being able to hold back any longer. He was pounding into me relentlessly and I was loving it. I am sure that I am going to be sore after this.

“Come for me (Y/N), I want to feel this tight cunt squeeze around my cock.” Say less, I am already ahead of you. My eyes were rolling to the back of my head and I felt my pussy pulsate around him. With one last motion against his thumb, I cried out his name multiple times as I climaxed.  

Spencer whispered my name as he continued pushing into me, chasing his own orgasm. He thrust a couple more times before quickly pulling out, spilling himself over my stomach. I panted as I laid my head against the crook of his neck. His fingers thrummed a slow rhythm upon my lower back.

“So about that dinner... do you want to get Indian food?”

“Yeah, I can go for some samosas right now.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #reid smut #mgg

[dizzydancingdreamer]

“First Lines” | Tag Game

Hey Y’all I have gotten tagged in this a few times— thank you so so much @auroracalisto @mikaelson-emma and, of course, @hellotvshowtrash— I haven’t had much time to read them and form coherant thoughts but expect some soon. 

So the rules are you post the opening lines to 20 of your most recent fics— or all the ones you have if you don’t have 20— and it kinda just shows who you are as a writer and it’s just fun!

I decided to include some WIP’s— and expose to everyone who is not @activist-af the sheer amount of fics that I start and then set aside. Please enjoy y’all I got a kick out of compiling this list!

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

“Barnes, you’re on protection detail.”

He must be dreaming— he must have fallen asleep with the tv on again. That’s been happening a lot lately; he’s trying to catch up on normal life. On all the shows and movies and music he’s missed throughout the years. He’s trying to catch up. Or maybe he’s just trying to drown out the silence. It doesn’t matter why, to be honest, all that matters is that he is asleep and what he is hearing and seeing are the workings of a bad dream. There was a marathon last night. Yeah, there was. Movies, a few of them. Something about bodyguards. He’s just dreaming about the movies. Right?

(WIP | Persephone’s Symphony | Bucky Barnes)

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“Did you pack my dress!” A shrill voice assaults her eardrums as she scurries towards the door.

It comes from a tall, thin, young woman. Her face and fingers are boney, her blonde hair falling in perfect waves down her back. The faintest aroma of honeysuckles and violets wafts off her creamy skin. She is beautiful, her step sister Anna. At least in theory. The sneer on her cherry lips and the hatred in her cerulean eyes, unclouded and accusatory, can’t be hidden by any length of silky dress or ruby lipstick, though. She is ugly, even if just on the inside.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter One | Loki)

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The ride to the capitol takes three gruelling days. Each night is spent at a different tavern. It is the same story each time; Estrid and Anna spend the night in a lavish bed and Y/n is left with the horses, curled under her thankfully baggy cloak. It is neither warm nor comfortable, sleeping on the bench seat of the carriage. She never really falls asleep, she only dozes in and out of consciousness. It is almost always interrupted by footsteps or the murmurs of animals or her own mostly empty stomach growling into the night. That one is twofold- usually her stomach is in so much nauseating pain that she cannot sleep but, on the off occasion she can, she is then awoken by the loud roars it makes.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Two | Loki)

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“Please Surtr.”

Her voice rings through his ears on a loop, the most beautiful and agonizing melody that he has surely ever heard. She must be magic- something strong and powerful and like nothing he has ever seen before. There is no other explanation. It had been magic when she appeared to him, literally falling into his lap as if out of thin air. He is the god of tricks but even he cannot do that- he cannot make women that smell like flower petals land in his arms at will. He wishes he could- more than anything he wishes he could pluck her out of his dreams and bring her back to him. But he cannot because that was not a trick. That was something else entirely.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Three | Loki)

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Y/n’s heart thunders as she gazes up at the glittering golden gates of the castle. If she was not so bogged down with bags she would throw a hand over her brow— a futile attempt to keep her eyes from burning out of their sockets. Do they really have to be this glittery? She thinks they are marvellous, that is not the problem. The problem is that she is not marvelous. Not in the slightest. Not worthy of such magnificent, splendid, rich architecture. She glances down at her simple dress— the loose green threads hanging from the side of the garment— she had meant to fix those— is this really where she must stay? Surely there must be a stable somewhere. A barn for animals like her.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Four | Loki)

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“On the balcony,” Frigga calls back, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulders. “We have company!” She adds, seemingly as an after thought— she is too busy pouring wine from a glass feeder into a beautifully ornate cup.

At least, Y/n thinks it is wine. She can smell the fermented berries— sweet and tangy and warming her nose as all wines she has encountered before have— only this wine is a pale violet shade. It is not an opaque rouge, not a barely there chartreuse. Nothing like what she has ever been able to get her hands on by way of bartering or shared celebration. Weddings and births. She takes a seat in one of the golden chairs, trying not to think about how out of her element she truly is. The little details are starting to show though. Not just extravagant pools and marble hallways. Even the food here is luxurious.

(WIP | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Five | Loki)

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She would have never thought it possible. Never. She’s the type to sit at home and crack open a good book. Maybe make a nice cup of tea. Lately she has been finding hibiscus tea to be a nice way to end the night. That’s besides the point, though. The point is that she is nothing like her older sister Jane. She is a dreamer, not a doer. Not a traveller.

Especially not a traveller of space— of foreign planets.

(WIP | Untitled | Loki)

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“Are you heading home this weekend?” Lily twirls a strand of blonde hair between her fingers, “Mama told me there’s an event.”

Your best friend lays on your bed as opposed to her own, her legs dangling over the edge. Her eyes are closed, probably halfway to being asleep. It’s been this way since the two of you left for college three years ago, always more in your space than her own. You’re lucky that way, you have a best friend who would follow you across the country if you wanted her to. Honestly, you would do the same. Luckily, though, you decided on only two hours away away from home. Just far enough to find your footing. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

(Posted | Everything, Everywhere | The Mikaelson Boys)

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“Get away from me, Kai!” Y/n snarls, pushing her way through the grill with a huffing witch on her heels.

She had been eating her meal- staring at her meal more like— and trying to ignore the constant buzz of her phone. He was incessant, texting her non— stop as if it would make it all better. After the thirtieth text she had turned her phone off, preferring to look at her food in silence. No text can erase his voice in her head. She means nothing to me.

“Not going to happen, kitten,” Kai purrs, his hand wrapping around her arm and tugging her to his chest, “you’re not going to ignore me.”

(WIP | Untitled | Kai Parker)

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New Orleans isn’t all that it was cracked up to be she muses to herself as she winds her way through the tombs. They tower over her, shadowing her with the sins of so many people before her. They’re lonely. That’s all she can think, over and over again. They must be so lonely. There can’t possibly be enough people to visit each of them. There aren’t even any people to visit her, let alone thousands of lost souls. She laughs to herself, a cruel sound breaking through the crashing silence. She is a lost soul.

(WIP | Do You Have A Moment? | Kol Mikaelson)

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A little bit outside the city lines of New Orleans, tucked precariously off highway 109, there stands a roadside market. It isn’t too far, nor is it too close; it’s just right, like the porridge in some half assed, uninspired fairytale. It’s nestled perfectly on the edge of the bayou, drawing in just enough business to keep the two girls running it in business. The jam is sweet, the ham is honeyed, and the women have smiles that look a little bit like rain in a drought: necessary for life but too much water on dry soil is a recipe for disaster. It’s all a little bit too perfect. Too clean cut and wholesome. But this isn’t a fairytale, after all. It’s the story of the girl who got away with it and the girl who helped her do it.

(WIP | Hey Tommy | The Mikaelsons)

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The Salvatore house has always smelled the same; like oranges and rum. A lot of rum. It is a welcome scent, one that smells almost like home. It will never truly be home, those scents are already reserved in your very essence, but it’s close. You’ll always be happy to walk through their door. Today is no different.

(WIP | Forever and Always | The Mikaelsons)

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Kol drags a hand through his hair, his eyes locked on the book in front of him. His eyes wander the page, the corner of his mouth lifting when he skims something particularly interesting. You, too, have a book in your hands but, unlike him, your focus is elsewhere. To be exact, your focus is four feet away, basking in the sun on the lap of one shirtless vamp.

(WIP | Best Friend Things / Part Two | Kol Mikaelson)

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“So, love,” a pair of arms snake around your waist, pulling you into a warm chest, “these are the famous pumpkins?”

A familiar blonde head, the one you woke up to this morning, settles against your shoulder. He must be leaning significantly given the fact that he’s at least a good head taller than you. You break the rain spell you had been working on, laying your wand next to your pumpkin starts. That’s the beauty of magic, you can grow in any season. You turn to face Klaus, a soft smile on your face.

(WIP | Pumpkin / Harry Potter Universe AU | Klaus Mikaelson)

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The salt clings to her sticky skin, her hair grainy and matted from the surf. Thunder rolls overhead, chasing her through The Cut like. It’s only half past noon but shadows layer the street, casting everything in a dusky gloom. The pavement smells sharp; the rain is coming and fast. She hikes her tote higher on her shoulder and wishes for a moment that she hadn’t dove for as many shells today. She feels like a beached whale with all the dead weight. Business is business, though, and the tourists go crazy for a handmade necklace.

(WIP | Thunderstorm Afternoons | Jj Maybank and John B. Routledge)

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She shoves her key into the lock of the Smith’s beach house, turning it with an audible click and smiling when she pushes the door open to the smell of warm pizza and oranges. Try as the boys may, Mrs. Smith’s affinity for essential oils will always prevail over the mass amount of cheap pizza they consume on what is— unfortunately— the daily. She hauls her bag higher on her shoulder, closing the door behind her and thanking the heavens she remembered to pack some of the chicken her mother made for dinner on her way out the door. No Domino's tonight, thank you very much.

(WIP | Sleepovers | The Kook Boys)

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“Y/n, darling, come here,” her mother’s sweet voice trickled over her from the front hall, “I have some people I want you to meet.”

She stepped into the hallway, coloured lights pouring over her. It was Christmas time, her favourite time, and everything was extravagantly decorated. Garland lined the grand staircase, there was a tree in almost every room, and, her favourite, holly strung in every doorway. Her house radiated magic, more so than usual, that is.

(WIP | Hufflepuff Princess | Draco Malfoy)

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Her feet hit the pavement with careful clicks, her heels— while undeniably killer— a little loud for her taste: a product of her day spent in practice with the other debutante girls. She has to force herself to make her steps light. This isn’t New York, it’s Mystic Falls. Being a southern woman is not a choice; it’s an obligation. A prior commitment she agreed to before she was old enough to truly fathom what it meant. For the most part she loves it— the elegance and refinery, the teatime giggles and flouncing skirts— but the heels? That’s a hard no.

(WIP | Untitled | Kai Parker)

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She sighs, her toes burying themselves in the carpet as her arms reach well past her head in a much needed stretch. Her room is dark, the only light coming from her cheap desk lamp. The pounding in her head, for once, isn’t enough to drown out anything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. None of this was supposed to happen, it wasn’t supposed to get this far. It was always just a game, wasn’t it? She runs a shaky hand through her hair, her knees wobbling slightly at the thought. Get it together, y/n.

(Posted | The Bet | Rafe Cameron)

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Her bubblegum lip gloss attacks him from all the way across the café, cutting cleanly through the aroma of coffee and donuts and sending his heart racing at the obscenely sweet scent. He should hate it. No, scratch that, he shouldn’t think anything of it at all. It’s not in his nature to enjoy things- or to feel things at all, to be frank- but he can’t help it. The drugstore brand, wildly over-scented balm makes his head fuzzy like nothing else.

(Posted | Bubblegum Princess, Cherry Angel | Kai Parker)

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I don’t really know who to tag because I haven’t been active these last few days so I am tagging people I have not seen do this yet and if you have just ignore me : @elijahs-wife @draconisxcaput @imaginearyparties @dumble-daddy 

#tag game #first lines #WIPs