#nerve agent tw

[bossbtch1]

Against All Odds

The GIF is not mine; credit goes to the respective artist/creator.

Summary : You recently joined the Avengers, and everyone has accepted you except for Bucky. Now, the challenge lies in proving him wrong, but can you succeed changing his mind and earn his trust? Or do you have to do more to earn it? (geez, I’m suck at this)

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (No mentions of body type or ethnicity other than the reader being female)

TW: SMUT, 18+, strong language, enemies-to-lovers-ish, oral (m receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, degradation (slut calling), slight choking, orgasm denial

Word Count: Around 10k (I know it's a bit long, I got carried away. Sorry) → smut is like 4k hehe

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at writing a story, and it’s a smut one at that. English isn't my first language, so apologies for any mistakes or bad grammar. I hope you still enjoy the story!

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3

If you like my story, please go check out my other stories here

These are the aesthetic for part 1 (solely for visual representation of what going to happen on the story, this meant no representation for body type or ethnicity)

You've always been a dependable agent ever since you were young, someone who could handle the toughest missions without letting your emotions get in the way. Nick Fury spotted your potential when you were just a kid, taking you under his wing. It was his belief in you that kept you going, and it all led to the thrilling moment when he thought it was time for you to join the Avengers. After all those years of hard work, it felt like a dream come true.

Then came your first day with the team. You'd just joined, and they wanted to see how good you were in a fight. You almost beat Natasha in a really intense battle, proving to everyone that you totally belonged with the Avengers. Your determination to show your worth never wavered. But there was this one guy, Bucky Barnes, who just couldn't seem to trust you no matter what.

On your first day with the Avengers, the training room buzzed with anticipation as you faced off against Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow. It was a test of your combat skills, a way to see if you had what it took to be part of Earth's mightiest heroes. The desire to become one of them, although it might sound cliché and cringey, burned within you.

The Avengers, including Nick Fury, Captain America, Iron Man, Winter Soldier, Hawkeye and Thor, watched from up above, all curious and eager to see how you'd do. Their faces showed they were rooting for you.

However, as you glanced upward to catch your breath, your eyes locked onto Bucky Barnes. He stood there, solitary and stern, arms crossed over his chest. His intense gaze bore into you, but unlike the other Avengers, his expression was far from encouraging. There was a deep skepticism in his eyes, a doubt that seemed unshakable, and it cast a shadow over your determination to prove yourself to the team.

Natasha, dressed in her familiar black outfit, gave you a serious look that made you stop staring up. When she spoke, you turned your attention to her. "Think you've got this, newbie?" she teased, a touch of amusement in her voice.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. This was your moment to prove yourself, and there was no turning back. The weight of your new Avengers uniform felt both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. "I'm ready, Natasha.", you responded with determination. You weren't going to back down now.

Natasha grinned. "We'll see about that."

The two of you circled each other, and then, without warning, Natasha lunged at you with lightning speed. Her attack was quick and precise, but you were able to block it, thanks to your training. As the two of you sparred, the crowd cheered and shouted their support. It was a battle of wits and willpower, and neither of you was willing to give up.

"You're good," Natasha admitted, her voice dripping with genuine admiration. "But let's see how you handle this." With a fluid motion, she unleashed a series of acrobatic moves, flipping and twisting through the air before landing gracefully behind you.

You spun around to face her, sweat beading on your forehead. "Impressive, but I'm not done yet."

The fight continued, and you pushed yourself to keep up with Natasha's relentless assault. Your training and instincts kicked in, and you began to hold your own. It was a back-and-forth battle, each of you landing hits and dodging the other's attacks.

But Natasha was more experienced than you, and eventually, she managed to overpower you. She had you pinned to the ground, her face inches away from yours. You struggled against her grip, but she held you firmly in place. "Had enough?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gritting your teeth, you mustered all the determination you had left. "Not a chance," you replied, refusing to admit defeat.

The crowd went wild as Natasha delivered the final blow, knocking you out. She stood there, victorious, a small smile playing on her lips acknowledging your impressive performance. "Good fight," she said, extending a hand to help you up.

You accepted her hand, "Thanks, Natasha. You're incredible."

The room erupted in applause, and everyone from the observation deck descended to congratulate you. Fury, wearing a proud smile, gave you a warm hug. "Well done, Y/N. You're officially part of the team," he declared, his words filled with pride. He whispered, "I'm proud of you, Y/N," and it meant the world to you.

But amid the celebration with your new teammates, there was one person who didn't seem as thrilled. James "Bucky" Barnes, the Winter Soldier, stood in a quiet corner of the room, his expression inscrutable.

You had felt his presence throughout the entire match, his intense gaze sending shivers down your spine. Bucky's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, then he turned and left the room, leaving you feeling more confused than ever.

Bucky went out of his way to undermine your confidence, pushing you to the brink of quitting time and time again. His words still fresh in your mind. "I don't think you're cut out for this, kid. This isn't a game. It's a matter of life and death. You’re not ready for this."

It hurt. You didn't understand why he was so determined to bring you down. What had you done to make him dislike you so much? Despite Bucky's relentless doubts, you refused to back down. You were determined to earn his respect, just as you had with the rest of the team.

So, every day, you trained harder, pushed yourself further, and proved your worth on every mission. Your hope was that one day, Bucky would finally see you for the capable agent you truly were and put his doubts to rest once and for all.

One day, as you were making your way to the gym, the sound of voices caught your attention. It was Bucky and Steve, engaged in a hushed conversation that seemed to revolve around you. Curiosity piqued, you tried to maintain a discreet distance, keen on hearing what they were saying. You knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but you couldn't help yourself.

"Buck, I think you're being too hard on her. She's a good fighter and she's eager to learn," Steve argued.

Bucky's skepticism remained unshaken. "I'm just trying to watch out for the team. She's a liability, not ready for this kind of responsibility."

Steve being the optimist pushed back gently, his support for you evident in his tone. "I think you're the only one who feels that way."

Bucky's voice grew firmer as he explained his perspective. "She's only here 'cause Nick Fury vouched for her. There are others who deserve this chance more. I could name a couple who'd fit better on this team than her."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, casting doubt on your worthiness. It was difficult to hear that the person you looked up to and wanted to prove yourself to was actually against you, even though Bucky's argument was valid.

You couldn't help but question if your acceptance into the Avengers was indeed solely because of Fury. You had always believed that your spot on the Avengers was earned through your skills and dedication. Bucky's doubts made you second-guess if you had truly earned your place.

"Buck, there's more to it than that," Steve replied, his voice steady. "Just be patient with her."

Unable to endure the conversation any longer, your heart felt heavy as you turned away, doing your best to conceal the hurt that washed over your face. With resolve, you changed your course and headed towards the field track, hoping a run would help clear your mind.

Later, as the sun set on the horizon, you were still out running laps. Your thoughts were racing, and your body was aching, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

"You're gonna wear yourself out if you keep pushing like that."

You jumped, startled by the sudden voice. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Bucky standing a few feet away, his arms crossed.

Caught off guard, you tried to put on a brave face. "I'm okay," you lied, attempting to hide the pain that was clearly etched on your face. Stopping abruptly had caused your feet to throb with discomfort.

Bucky, however, wasn't buying your façade. He narrowed his eyes, his concern deepening. "You're not. You're hurt."

In response, you shook your head stubbornly, your pride urging you to push through the pain. "I'll manage," you insisted, even though every step sent a sharp twinge through your feet.

Bucky's gaze remained sharp and unwavering. "You're not fooling anyone with that."

Deep down, you knew he was right. The pain was becoming harder to ignore, and your stubbornness could only take you so far. But in that moment, you weren't quite ready to admit defeat or show weakness, especially not to someone like Bucky.

Bucky took a step closer, his expression resolute. "Come on, we're heading inside," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I'm okay, I can-." You began to protest, but he interrupted you firmly, "Y/N, enough. This is an order. You're only making my job more difficult by trying to tough it out. Let's go, and I don't want to hear another word from you."

Reluctantly, you fell silent and went along with Bucky, allowing him to guide you back to the facility. As you walked, you couldn't help but mull over his earlier words, "You're making my job harder by trying to tough it out." It left you wondering why he cared or felt responsible for you, especially when you believed he disliked you.

Once inside, Bucky seated you and fetched a glass of water. Taking a sip, you felt a wave of relief as it helped ease some of your fatigue. Then, without uttering a word, Bucky briefly stepped away, returning in less than a minute with bandages and medicine in hand.

Your curiosity got the best of you, and you couldn't resist asking, "What's all that for?" Your eyes were drawn to the medical supplies.

"Take off your shoes and socks," Bucky directed, his tone brooking no dissent.

"I don't think I need..." You began to protest, but a quick glance at Bucky's determined face made it clear that there was no room for discussion.

Letting out a sigh, you gave in and removed your shoes and socks. What you saw shocked you: your feet were in a terrible state, bleeding and covered with painful blisters, a clear result of your overly enthusiastic run.

You heard Bucky mutter a curse under his breath as he knelt down in front of you. "Bucky, seriously, I can handle it," you tried to protest, but he wasn't having any of it.

"Just stay put and let me take care of this." His voice was firm, and he got to work tending to your battered feet. Gently, he placed your feet on his lap, starting to clean the cuts on your soles. You winced slightly as the sting of the alcohol met the open wounds.

While he busied himself tending to your injuries, you found your gaze drifting to him. Bucky was undeniably handsome and hot, you couldn't help but appreciate his appearance. As your eyes met his, he suddenly looked up at you.

"Got something on your mind?" he asked, his expression as enigmatic as ever.

You blinked, realizing that you'd been staring. Heat crept into your cheeks as you stammered, "I, uh, have an issue with my shoes." You finally managed to say, though it wasn't exactly the eloquent response you'd hoped for.

Bucky, his expression unamused, retorted, "Well, that's clear." After he finished bandaging your wounds, he added, "But there's more to it than just your shoes."

"You can't be out here, pushing yourself so hard if you're going to injure yourself. This isn't a game. You must take care of yourself. You can't expect to get the full experience if you're going to hurt yourself." His words were harsh, but they were true.

"I know," you admitted with a sigh, guilt gnawing at you. "I just got caught up and lost track of time. It's not that bad."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Not that bad?" He challenged you. "Then stand up. Let's see how not that bad it really is."

Your cheeks burned. You could already feel the ache in your legs and the throbbing pain in your feet. But you refused to show any weakness. Not now. Not in front of him.

"Fine." With a determined look, you pushed yourself up from the chair, wincing as you put weight on your injured soles. Your feet stung, and your muscles were sore, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through it.

Bucky couldn't help but scoff, clearly frustrated with your stubbornness and tendency to challenge him.  "You want to be part of this team, right?"

You nodded, your determination unwavering despite the discomfort. "Yeah, I do.”

"Then you need to stop being reckless and start acting like an Avenger. We can't afford to have someone on our team who's too stubborn to admit when they're injured. It's only gonna make things worse." he said firmly, taking a step closer to you. "Maybe you could start by, I don't know, following orders and not talking back every chance you get."

The harshness in his words took you by surprise, but they also cut deep. Because you knew he was right.

With that he left the room, leaving you behind to wallow in shame. You knew he was right. But it hurt, especially coming from him.

Weeks later, you received the news that you'd be joining the team on your very first mission. The excitement bubbled up inside you as you geared up for the assignment. But as the mission unfolded, things took a turn for the worse.

You spotted a group of enemies heading for a crowded area and impulsively decided to engage them without waiting for the team's signal or support. Your intentions were to protect the civilians, but your recklessness got the best of you. Your impulsive move led to a chaotic firefight, and in the midst of the chaos, a civilian stumbled into the line of fire, narrowly escaping harm.

Bucky, who had been keeping an eye on you, witnessed the entire sequence of events unfold. His anger and frustration boiled over as he watched you put not only yourself but also innocent bystanders in danger.

Inside the quinjet, as the mission concluded, he couldn't contain his fury any longer. "What the fuck was that, Y/N?!" he erupted, his voice echoing in the confined space.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame and regret.

"Sorry isn't good enough!" Bucky snapped, his intense gaze burning into you. You couldn't bear to meet his eyes, and instead, you cast your gaze downward, your hands trembling with the weight of your mistake.

"If you're gonna keep making mistakes like that, then maybe you don't belong on this team. You could've gotten someone killed back there." His words stung, but he was right.

Natasha stepped in to defend you, "Bucky, it was an accident, and it was her first mission. Everyone makes mistake.”

Bucky didn't back down. "Yeah, and accidents can cost lives, Nat. She need to be more careful," he retorted, glaring back at you. "You can't afford to be an idiot like that out there. What the fuck is wrong with you?" He yelled, his anger getting the best of him.

Clint said, "Hey! Enough. She's done enough of a beating already, I know she can do better next time."

"There might not be a next time," Bucky grumbled.

Confusion and worry welled up inside you. 'What do you mean by that?' you wondered silently, unable to find your voice.

Bucky's frustration boiled over as he remarked, "Maybe she should think twice about putting others at risk if she can't handle it."

You turned your gaze away, determined not to let the tears fall. Tony took charge of the situation, his voice steady and reassuring. "Alright, that's enough," Tony declared firmly. "We're all on edge right now after what happened. We all know she can do better, and we'll address it later. For now, let's just concentrate on getting back home."

The rest of the ride was filled with tension, Bucky's glare never leaving you as you tried your best to avoid his gaze.

Wanda noticed your discomfort and moved over to sit next to you. She placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder and asked gently, "How are you holding up?"

You appreciated Wanda's concern and gave her a small, grateful smile. "I'll be okay," you replied softly. "Just need some time to process everything. I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed."

Wanda patted your shoulder again, offering more comfort. "Mistakes are part of learning, especially on your first mission. Remember, the key is to learn from them and get better. Don't let Bucky's words get to you too much."

You let out a weary sigh, realizing the truth in her words. "Yeah, I know.”

The quinjet touched down on the landing pad, and a sense of relief washed over you as you realized you were finally back home. This was it. You were finally home. "We'll talk later, okay?" Wanda asked, giving you a sympathetic smile.

You nodded appreciatively at her and quickly made your way to your room. You wanted nothing more than to lock yourself away and forget the whole thing ever happened. But the guilt and shame were too much to bear.

About a month after the incident, news of another mission started to circulate rapidly around the Avengers' headquarters. The buzz of excitement and anticipation filled the air, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions—both excitement and anxiety. This mission was your chance to redeem yourself after the missteps on your first assignment.

Determined to discuss your readiness for this new mission, you sought out Steve. As you approached his office, you noticed him engrossed in reading some files. You gently knocked on the open door.

"Hi Steve, may I come in?" you asked politely.

Steve looked up from the files and offered you a welcoming smile. He promptly closed the documents and gestured for you to enter. "Of course, come in Y/N." You stepped into his office, and he continued, "How are you doing, by the way?" Steve motioned for you to take a seat, showing genuine concern.

You settled into the chair across from him and fidgeted with your fingers, trying to find the right words. "I'm good, better than what happened last time..." You paused, your voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry about last time..."

Steve's warm smile remained reassuring. "Hey, Y/N, that's okay. We all make mistakes," he said with a reassuring tone, "Don't beat yourself up too much about it, okay?" His kindness and understanding were a comfort, making you feel grateful for his leadership and support.

"So, what brings you here?" Steve asked with a welcoming smile.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "I heard there's another mission in 2 days..." After a pause, you continued, "But I haven't received the assignment or briefing for it..."

Steve's friendly expression faltered, and he sighed. "Y/N, about that..." He looked genuinely conflicted. "We already have teams assigned to cover that mission. You don't need to worry about it."

Your heart sank, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. It was becoming increasingly clear that you were being sidelined. "Is this because of what happened on the last mission?" You finally voiced your concern, your tone a mix of frustration and hurt.

Steve must've noticed the change in your tone. "Y/N, there'll be plenty of missions, and you'll definitely join the next one, okay?"

You took a deep breath and forced a smile, masking the pain that was gnawing at you. "Ah, okay, Steve." You chuckled, though it felt forced. "That's alright, I was just curious.”

Steve smiled weakly, but you could tell he understood your disappointment. "Y/N..."

You got up from the seat, disappointment heavy in your chest. You knew this was likely Bucky's doing. "Thank you, Captain, for the information. Good luck on the mission!" With that, you turned and left the room, trying to hide your frustration and disappointment.

As everyone prepared to leave for the mission, they bid you farewell, their expressions filled with sympathy. You knew they felt sorry for leaving you behind in the tower. Watching them depart filled you with a profound sense of sadness, knowing you couldn't join them.

You returned to your room, aimlessly flipping through the channels on the TV, but nothing captured your interest. Your mind kept wandering back to the missed opportunity, and the guilt and frustration gnawed at you.

After a futile attempt at watching TV, you tried to occupy yourself with a book, but the words on the pages blurred together as your thoughts remained fixated on the mission. With a sigh, you put the book down, realizing you were too distracted to read.

Restlessly, you paced around your room, contemplating various ways to improve your skills and prove that you were a valuable member of the team. Maybe you could spend some time in the training room or review combat strategies. You knew you had to keep pushing yourself to become better.

Eventually, you settled on the idea of practicing your marksmanship in the training room. Grabbing your gear, you headed there with determination in your step, determined to make the most of your time while the team was away on the mission.

Inside the gym, you started with some intense punching and kicking exercises. It felt great to release your anger, sadness, and disappointment through physical exertion. As you pummeled the sandbag, you couldn't help but imagine it as Bucky's face, channeling your frustration and resentment into each punch and kick. You unleashed your emotions on the inanimate object, giving it your all to cope with the overwhelming mix of feelings inside you.

Sweat dripped down your face, mixing with the occasional tear, but you didn't let up. You wiped away the sweat and tears from your face. "What" punch "Do" punch "I" kick "Have" punch "To" kick "Do" punch "To" punch "Prove" punch "To" punch "You" kick "That" kick "I'm" punch "Just" kick "As" kick "Good" kick "As" punch "Them" punch kick punch kick.

Why were you treated this way? What had you done to earn Bucky's disdain? How could you prove your worth to him? Frustration boiled inside you, reaching its peak as you let out a guttural scream, causing the sandbag to plummet from the force of your final blow.

Panting, you collapsed on the gym floor, you were exhausted and emotionally drained, but you felt a strange sense of relief. You clenched and unclenching your fists. You flexed your fingers and winced as the pain shot through them.

You chose to ignore the pain and you slowly got up from the gym floor. You knew you had pushed yourself too hard, but it was the only way you could vent your frustration and anger.

Limping, you made your way towards the bench where you had left your belongings. The room felt heavy with the echo of your pounding. Your trembling hand found the familiar coolness of your water bottle, and you clutched it tightly, taking a long, refreshing gulp. The cool liquid soothed your parched throat.

Just as you were catching your breath, Bucky unexpectedly strolled into the room. His presence surprised you, you hadn't expected anyone else to be there, especially not him.

His gaze, sharp and perceptive, honed in on your movements, "Still trying to prove yourself, huh?" he remarked, his words hanging in the air like a challenge, his tone laced with doubt.

You met his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down even in the face of his skepticism. "I don't need to prove anything to anyone, including you," you replied, your voice steady despite the ache in your body. "I'm just making sure I'm ready for whatever comes our way. Maybe you should worry less about what I'm doing and more about why you're not on the mission with the rest of the team."

Bucky's expression remained inscrutable, his indifference a stark contrast to your determination. He nonchalantly shrugged, an aloof response to your pointed words.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you couldn't help but roll your eyes, your frustration with him boiling over. "Whatever, Barnes. Keep your doubts to yourself."

You began packing up your belongings, a clear signal that you were ready to depart from his presence. You suspected he was still watching you, his intense gaze never wavering, but you wanted nothing more than to distance yourself from him. It felt like he was deliberately keeping you from the mission, and the resentment simmered within you.

After finishing packing, you headed towards the exit, but Bucky halted you by grabbing your hand. You turned around, irritation clear in your eyes. "What do you want, Barnes?" you snapped, trying to pull your hand away. “What the hell? Let me go!”

Ignoring your protest, he led you back to the training area, placing you in front of him. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach. Did he intend to spar with you? The uncertainty hung heavily in the air, making the atmosphere tense.

You stood your ground, your nervousness growing with every passing second. "What? Scared?" Bucky teased, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, refusing to let his taunts unnerve you. You managed a fake smile and replied, "Of you? No. Why would I be?" Determined not to show any fear.

Bucky's smirk widened as he said, "Well, you should be." He locked eyes with you and asked, "Ready?" The challenge in his tone was clear.

You took another deep breath, squared your shoulders, and met his gaze head-on. "Alright, Bucky. I'm game. What's the plan?" Your voice remained steady, even as your nerves continued to buzz beneath the surface.

Bucky's lips curved into a smirk. He motioned towards the training mats, his movements smooth and practiced. "Just try to land a hit on me."

Without a moment's warning, he lunged at you, his attack swift and precise. You barely managed to block it in time, the impact sending a jolt through your arms.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you felt a sting to your pride. "Just one hit?" you questioned, a mixture of disbelief and defiance in your voice. Did he genuinely doubt your abilities? Determination flared in your eyes as you prepared to prove him wrong.

He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Don't get ahead of yourself, doll. Come on, you're starting to bore me." You gritted your teeth and launched into your counterattack.

The atmosphere in the training room grew tense as you continued your attempts to land a hit on Bucky. Each time you launched an attack, he seemed to anticipate your every move, effortlessly blocking your punches and kicks. It was as if he had an innate ability to read your intentions, and it left you feeling frustrated and somewhat helpless.

With each failed attempt, Bucky's smirk grew wider, and he let out a low chuckle. "Come on, Y/N," he taunted, his tone dripping with playful mockery. "You've got to do better than that if you want to stand a chance."

His words stung, and they fueled your determination. You were well aware that Bucky was pushing your buttons, trying to rile you up, but you refused to let it show. You had a point to prove, not only to him but to yourself as well.

You decided to take another shot, launching into a new round of attacks, hoping to catch Bucky off guard. But just like before, he expertly caught your wrist each time, preventing your strikes from connecting. Frustration gnawed at you, and you let out an audible groan each time he effortlessly pinned your arms behind your back and pushed you back.

Bucky didn't hold back with his taunts either. "Is that the best you've got, doll?" he prodded, his gaze locked onto yours. "I've seen other recruits do better. What happened to all those praises they were singing about you?"

Taking a deep breath, you tried to surprise him with a sudden kick, but Bucky saw through your move. He even managed to catch your legs mid-kick, causing you to lose your balance and tumble to the ground.

His voice dripped with mock disappointment as he quipped, "Doll, I expected better than that. That was just plain bad."

You took a deep breath, frustration fueling your determination. This time, you decided to go all out. You lunged at him with full force, no holding back, hoping to land a solid hit. His dodge and blocks were frustratingly precise, but you didn't give in.

Finally, you managed to back him into a wall, and you saw an opening. You went for a powerful kick, but he swiftly caught your leg, pulling it towards him. Before you knew it, you were pinned against the wall, your front pressed firmly against the hard surface.

"Doll, nice try," Bucky said, his tone edged with approval, "but you've still got long ways to go."

You groaned as he pinned you to the wall, frustrated since you couldn't beat him. "Fuck!"

He chuckled lowly, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, his face mere inches from yours. "Language, sweetheart."

The feeling of his body pressed against yours sent tingles down your spine, and you tried to keep your breathing under control, your cheeks flushing.

Bucky seemed to notice your blush and couldn't resist a teasing remark. He leaned in even closer, his voice dripping with playful mischief. “What's the matter, doll? Is it too hot in here?" he teased, pressing himself closer to you.

Your blush deepened as he teased you, and you turned your head away from him, not able to meet his gaze. "You know what? You're seriously annoying."

Bucky's smile only grew wider, and he didn't let up. "Aw, come on, doll. Getting all worked up because you can't keep up?" he goaded, his warm breath tickling your neck. His face was even closer now, his eyes dark with a look you'd never seen before.

You huffed in exasperation, determined not to let his teasing get the best of you. "I can keep up just fine, thank you very much," you shot back, your competitive spirit coming to the forefront.

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. "Well then," he challenged, his tone inviting. "Prove it. Try to break free from my hold."

Your breath caught in your throat at the suggestion, a rush of adrenaline surging through your veins. "Okay," you agreed, your tone confident. You decided to take Bucky's challenge head-on.

With a swift and calculated move, you attempted to break free from his hold, using all the skills you had acquired during your training with the Avengers. Bucky, ever the skilled fighter, didn't make it easy, but you were determined not to give in.

You tried and tried, but you couldn't seem to break free from his strong hold. You were both sweating, the effort causing the air around you to grow thicker and heavier. You could feel his chest pressed against your body, muscles flexing as he maintained the firm grip he had on you.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you were both breathing heavily, neither of you willing to give in. In that moment, with your bodies pressed together and the heat between you almost unbearable, something changed. You felt his hold on you loosen slightly, and you took the opportunity to spin around, pinning him to the wall.

A surprised chuckle escaped his lips, clearly caught off guard by your sudden move. His eyes, filled with desire, locked onto yours, and the tension between you seemed to reach a boiling point.

You couldn't help but smirk as you managed to gain the upper hand, "Huh, I wi-" But before you could finish, he swiftly turned the tables, pinning you back against the wall.

He chuckled, his voice low and husky. "Not quite, doll." He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Never let your guard down until you know your opponent is truly defeated," he whispered, his voice low.

You gasped, feeling the cool metal of his arm pressing against your skin. "You were saying?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear.

You bit your lip, feeling the tension between you reach a fever pitch. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Never let your guard down until you know your opponent is truly defeated," he whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

Your frustration bubbled up, and you couldn't help but shake your head in response. "That's not fair!" you protested, your voice tinged with exasperation. "I managed to break free from your hold. Doesn't that count for something?"

He chuckled, "Not it doesn't. You've still got a lot to learn. I could've easily gotten the upper hand on you again. The moment you let your guard down is the moment you lose the fight."

You clenched your jaw and stared into his blue eyes, not backing down from his challenge. "Okay enough with the taunting. I'm not afraid of you, Barnes."

His lips were so close, you could feel his breath against your skin. "You should be, doll," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

A moment passed between the two of you, and then, as if a dam had broken, he kissed you hard, it made you surprised, you gasped on his mouth and felt his tongue exploring you.

Your heart was pounding, the excitement building as you kissed him back. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as the heat between you grew.

"God, Y/N," he groaned against your mouth. His metal hand reached for your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist. He pressed you harder against the wall, his hips grinding against yours. You moaned at the friction, feeling your body responding to his touch.

The training room was forgotten as the two of you gave in to your desires, the heat between you driving you both wild. You knew it was a bad idea, but in that moment, you didn't care. All that mattered was the pleasure, the heat, the intensity of it all.

"Bucky..." You panted, feeling his lips and teeth exploring your neck, his tongue licking you, tasting you.

The sound of his name on your lips sent him over the edge, and he couldn't hold back anymore. His hands found their way under your yoga pants, gripping your ass. He bit down on your lip, drawing a small moan from you. You could feel him smile into the kiss.

"Fuck, doll. You like this? Me fucking you against the wall?" he groaned against your mouth.

You nodded, unable to form any coherent words. “Tell me, do you want more?"

"Yes," you breathed, your body trembling with need.

"Tell me," he ordered, his voice husky with desire.

"I want you, Bucky…. please."

"Beg for it," he growled, his hands moving to the front of your yoga pants. He tugged them down, the cold air hitting your wet core, his hand quickly finding its way between your thighs. You arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"Fuck, doll," he muttered, his fingers slipping into your panties, finding your wetness. "So fucking wet for me.” His fingers slid inside you, making you gasp, your hips bucking against him. "Is this what you want, doll?"

"Yes!" you cried out, your hands grasping at his shirt, trying to pull him closer. "Please," you moaned, your hips bucking against his.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit, making you writhe and moan beneath him. "Such a good girl," he murmured, his free hand coming up to grip your breast. He groped you hard, squeezing and massaging you through your sports bra.

"Put your hands up," he commanded, pulling his fingers out of you. You complied, your hands reaching above your head. He pulled up your bra, exposing your breasts to him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. You moaned, your hips bucking against him as he sucked and nibbled on your breasts.

"So responsive," he chuckled, his hand reaching between your legs once again, his fingers dipping into your wetness. "Such a wet little girl. You're dripping for me."

"You like this?" He growled, his fingers rubbing your clit, his thumb sliding up and down your slick folds. He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine, "Tell me were you already wet when we started sparring? Did you want me to pin you against the wall? To fuck you hard?"

You couldn't respond, the pleasure was too much. You were teetering on the edge, ready to fall over at any moment. "Please, Bucky..." you gasped, your hips grinding against his hand, desperately seeking release.

"You're a naughty girl, aren't you? You want me to fuck you, right here, in the training room, where anyone could walk in and see us?"

He was right, you didn't even think of that possibility. You shook your head, "No.. of course not... it's just the heat of the moment... It's just... we're alone right now."

"You sure about that, doll? Cause I'm pretty sure I heard someone walk by a few minutes ago. What if it was Clint? Or worse, what if it was Fury? I bet he would love to see this. His little protégé, getting fucked by the Winter Soldier."

You froze, your eyes wide.

"You know what?" He chuckled, "Let's put on a show for them. Let them watch. Let them see how you beg and scream for me."

“Cat’s got your tongue doll? Where are all the firey comebacks now? Nothing to say?” Your mind was in a state of shock. You tried to think, who was it? But Bucky was stroking you at a relentless pace, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.  

"You want me to make you cum, doll? To make you scream my name?"

"Yes," you panted, you didn’t care anymore, all you wanted was release. Your body trembling as he drove you closer to the edge.

He reached up, gripping your chin, his eyes locking onto yours. "I've wanted to fuck your attitude out of you ever since you came to the compound, doll,” he said, his voice husky with lust. "Watching you fight, all that fire, all that passion, it makes me so fucking hard. You have no idea how many times I've wanted to take you right here, to show you who's in control."

You couldn't take it anymore, the pleasure building, "I'm so close... Bucky," you moaned. You were so close, and he was taking you to new heights. You couldn't stop yourself, you could feel yourself losing control.

"Yeah I can tell, you're tightening around my fingers. Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me? Beg for it, and maybe I'll let you," he teased, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, faster and faster, sending you over the edge.

"Please, Bucky..." you cried, your hips bucking against his hand.

He pulled his fingers out of you, and you whined in frustration. "What the hell, Barnes?”

"Now, now," he tsked, his fingers trailing down your stomach, and stopping at your hip. "You don't get to come until I say so, doll," he ordered, his voice low and dangerous.

"But, please, I'm so close," you begged, the frustration almost unbearable.

"I know, but you need to learn who's in charge, and it's not you," he said, his fingers tracing circles around your clit, making you moan. "You have to obey my orders, Y/N."

"What the fuck, Barnes!" You screamed at him feeling angry at how he toyed with you. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He grabbed your hair and pulled it down making you winched in pain, "What did you fucking say to me?" He grabbed it harder when you didn’t answer him.

"Ouch." You winced in pain.

Bucky's eyes darkened and he tightened his grip. “First, you need to watch that mouth of yours." He was breathing heavily, his voice rough and commanding. "Or I'm going to shove my dick in it and put you in your place." he warned, his hand moving to grip your hair, forcing you to look up at him.

You gulped down at his threat. There was no mistaking the promise in his voice, but your pussy clenched at the thought of taking him into your mouth.  

"Second," he continued, his grip loosening slightly. "You need to learn that you don't get to question my orders, doll. You're going to be a good girl and listen."

You stared at him, unable to speak. He was serious.

"Answer me Y/N or I will leave you here, frustrated and wanting more," He threatened.

You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, his dominance and authority turning you on even more.

"Yes please, I'll obey," you said, your voice shaking slightly.

"Good girl, that’s more like it," he murmured, his metal hand coming up to caress your cheek. Bucky leaned closer and kissed your lips, his tongue sliding inside your mouth. He was sucking on your tongue and nibbling on your lips, his teeth digging into the soft flesh of your mouth. He kissed your cheek and moved down to your neck.

"Now, where are we?" He asked, his fingers back on your clit, rubbing in slow, agonizing circles. He was torturing you, teasing you.

He smiled wickedly, his hand moving from your clit and slipping inside you. He pushed two fingers inside your core and began pumping them. He started moving his hand faster and faster, the sound of his fingers sliding in and out filling the air.

You wanted to scream and yell at him, but you were unable to speak, the pleasure and the need for release overwhelming. You were panting and moaning, your eyes closed shut as you were trying not to come.

"Not yet." he growled. He pushed a third fingers inside your core and began pumping them. He started moving his hand faster and faster, the sound of his fingers sliding in and out filling the air.

"Beg," he commanded, his voice firm.

"Please, please, please, Bucky," you whimpered.

"Louder," he ordered.

"Please!" you whimpered, the desire and need taking over. "Please, Bucky, fuck my pussy and let me come," you begged. You felt your inside tightening, you need to come right now.

Bucky leaned closer and kissed you again, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth, exploring every inch. He moaned into your mouth, his fingers still pumping into you, his thumb circling your clit. "No," he said, and your eyes snapped open, meeting his blue ones. He smirked, seeing that you were close. "If you come before I tell you, I will punish you, doll."

Your eyes widened and your whole body shook with fear.

"Do you understand?" He asked, his fingers slowly pumping inside you.

"Yes, yes, I understand."

He chuckled, "You're a needy little slut, aren't you? You'd beg for my cock too, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," you moaned, the word falling from your lips without a second thought. "Please, Bucky, I need to come. I need your cock inside me, fucking me hard and fast," you begged, the words tumbling from your lips.

"That's a good girl," he murmured, his fingers picking up their pace. "You're gonna cum for me now, doll. You're gonna cum all over my fingers, and then, when you've recovered, you're gonna get on your knees and suck my cock. And when I'm ready, I'm gonna fuck you, and I'm gonna make you scream my name."

You moaned loudly as his fingers brought you closer to the edge, his words sending a thrill through you.

"You'd like that wouldn't you, doll? Having my cock buried deep inside you, fucking you senseless?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you panted, the pleasure building. He added another finger and curled them inside you, hitting your g-spot, and you gasped.

"That's it, Y/N," he groaned, his fingers moving faster. "Come for me. Let me hear you."

"I... I'm gonna..." you moaned, the pleasure building in your body. You couldn't hold back any longer, the pleasure overwhelming you,

"Come now!," he ordered his fingers working even faster, and suddenly, you exploded.

"BUCKY!" You screamed, your body shaking violently as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your body was trembling, and your juices were flowing freely down his fingers

"Such a good girl," he praised, his fingers slowing, drawing out the last of your orgasm, licking them clean. “Delicious," he murmured.

You panted, your body still shaking from the intensity of the orgasm. He lowered you to the floor, your legs shaky from the intense pleasure.

Bucky chuckled, seeing the confusion on your face. "Don't worry, doll," he said, leaning down and kissing you. "We're just getting started."

"On your knees," he commanded, his voice husky with desire.

Your knees trembled and you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, his pupils dilated with lust. You could see his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You did as you were told, dropping to your knees. You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his.

"Open your mouth," he ordered, and you obeyed. "Suck my cock." His voice firm and authoritative

Your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you watched him slowly unzip his pants, his thick, hard cock springing free. You stared at him for a moment, taking in the sight of him. The serum must did something to him, as his member was definitely bigger than any man you'd seen before.

"Now," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. "Don't be shy," he coaxed, his eyes dark with lust.

You slowly reached up and grasped his thick shaft in your hand, feeling the hot, smooth skin, marveling at the size of him. You felt a jolt of excitement run through your body as you stroked his length, feeling him twitch in your hand. You could feel yourself growing wet as you continued to stroke his cock, his member growing even harder under your touch.

His fingers tangling in your hair  "Now, put my cock in your pretty mouth, doll," he said, his voice thick with desire.

You lowered your head and opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock. You licked the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around it, tasting his salty pre-cum. He groaned, his hips bucking as you took more of his cock into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down.

You hummed around him, the vibration making him moan. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling at the roots as you worked your mouth up and down his shaft, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

You felt a surge of pleasure run through your body as you sucked his cock, loving the taste and feel of him in your mouth. You could feel his grip tightening on your hair as you continued to suck him, your tongue dancing along his length.

You didn't have any practice beforehand, but you are naturally gifted hearing praises, such as "Mmm, that's it.”, "Just like that.", “Fuck, you are good.” and the way his thighs trembled beside your ears were a tell-tale sign that you were doing great.

"You look so good like this," he moaned, his hand holding onto the back of your head, guiding your mouth over his cock. "I've imagined you sucking me off before."

His words made you moan around him, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

"You're taking my cock so well, like you were made for it."

You whimpered around him, his cock hitting the back of your throat once again. The feeling of his cock throbbing in your mouth, the taste of him, and the way he praised you were pushing you closer to the edge.

"God, your mouth feels so fucking good," he moaned, his hips thrusting as he fucked your mouth. "Such a good little slut, aren't you, doll?"

You felt your pussy clench at his words, your arousal growing with every stroke of his cock. You bobbed your head faster, taking him deeper into your mouth, loving the sounds of his moans.

His fingers tugged at your hair, the pain and pleasure mixing together to send another rush of pleasure through your body. You moaned around him, the sound vibrating through his cock, causing him to thrust deeper into your mouth.

You whimpered, your eyes watering as he pounded into your mouth. You could barely breathe, his thick cock stretching your throat as he fucked your mouth. Your pussy throbbed, your arousal coating your thighs as he mouth-fucked you.

"Oh yeah, you love this, don't you?" He groaned. "You love choking on my cock." As he thrust his cock into your mouth, his hands travelled to your breast, squeezing them hard, making you moan.

He groaned as you continued to suck, his grip on your hair tightening, the pain sending another wave of pleasure through your body. He was fucking your mouth ruthless, the wet slurping sounds were the only sound in the room. And the sounds he was making was almost enough to make you cum.

It became harder to breath with each stroke of his cock meeting the back of your throat, tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, the pain and pleasure mixing together.

He looked down at you, the sight of your mouth around his cock was almost enough to make him cum. He pulled out of your mouth with a loud pop, leaving you gasping for breath and tears running down your face.

"Look at you, what a mess you are," he smirked, his eyes raking over your body. "You're such a dirty girl, aren't you?"

You felt your face flush, his words making your pussy ache with need. You whimpered, the need to be filled by his cock becoming unbearable.

"Do you want me to fuck you, doll? Do you want me to fuck you so hard, you can't walk tomorrow?"

You moaned, your body trembling with anticipation. "Yes, please," you begged, your voice hoarse. "Please, fuck me, Bucky." You couldn’t think straight, you had no filter, you were just saying whatever came to mind.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back. "Say it," he growled, his eyes dark and dangerous.

"Please, Bucky," you said, your voice pleading.

"Try better than that," he said, his voice firm.

"Please fuck me, Sergeant," you whimpered, your voice laced with desperation. "Please fuck me hard and fast until I can't walk. Please use me however you want."

He smiled wickedly. "Your words, not mine. Be careful for what you wish for, doll."

He shoved you onto the floor, his body looming over you. "On the floor. On all fours now," he ordered, his voice stern and commanding.

You scrambled to comply, getting onto your hands and knees. Your heart racing as he positioned himself behind you.

"Spread your legs," he said, and you complied.

He knelt behind you, his hands roaming over your body, caressing your skin. You could feel his hands on your hips, his cock rubbing against your wetness.

"Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you, Y/N?" He whispered, his voice low and husky.

You stayed quiet waiting for him. "I'm gonna make you scream and beg for me, I'm gonna make you forget everything, except my name."

His words sent a shiver through your body, his tone full of dominance and power.

"And when I'm done with you, you'll never forget me, Y/N. You'll always remember me, remember the way I made you feel."

You could feel his hardness pressing against your entrance, teasing you, tormenting you. His hands running over your ass. "But I'm not gonna go easy on you. You understand?"

"Yes," you moaned, your voice breathy. "I understand."

"Good girl," he said, and with that, he pushed his cock inside of you, filling you completely. You cried out, your body quivering as he stretched you. "Such a tight little cunt," he groaned, his hips snapping against you, his cock buried deep inside of you. "So fucking perfect."

You cried out, the pain and pleasure mixing together.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He started to move, his pace slow and steady, his cock stretching you with each thrust.

"Oh god," you moaned, your voice echoing in the room.

"You like that, Y/N?" As he slammed his cock into you, his voice full of lust.

"Yes," you moaned, the sensation driving you wild.

"That's right, doll, take my cock," he growled, his fingers digging into your hips. "Take all of it." He was rough, his pace fast and unforgiving, his cock filling you to the brim with every thrust. You cried out, the pleasure and pain mingling into a sweet symphony.

You moaned, your body shaking as he fucked you. He was pounding into you, his cock hitting all the right spots. Your body was on fire, your mind lost in a haze of lust and desire. "Who's pussy is this?," He asked.

"It's yours," you gasped, your body trembling.

"Say it again," he commanded, his thrusts growing faster and harder.

"It's yours," you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Fucking right it is," he growled, his voice low and husky.

He was pounding into you, his pace relentless. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the smell of sex hanging heavy in the air.

He yanked your hair, forcing your head back and you whimpered. He kissed you, his tongue invading your mouth. His teeth dug into your bottom lip, making you moan.

"Who's a dirty little slut?" He demanded, his hips slapping against yours.

"Me," you gasped, the pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. "I'm a dirty little slut, Bucky."

"That's right," he growled, his grip on your hair tightening. "You're my dirty little slut, and I'm gonna fucking ruin you. You’re fucking mine."

Your body trembled, your muscles tensing as his cock slammed into you. You could feel the pleasure building, the pressure mounting inside of you. You were so close, and you needed him to finish you off. "Oh god, I’m so close," you begged, your voice desperate and needy.

"Not yet," he snarled, his grip on your hair tightening. "You'll cum when I say so, and not a moment before."

"Please," you begged, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. "Please let me cum, Bucky."

"Soon, doll," he promised, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Very soon." He knew you almost came and he decided to torture you further when his fingers finding your clit and he pressed down hard.

You cried out, the pleasure and pain becoming too much. "Oh god," you whimpered, your body trembling. "Please, I can't take it."

He slammed his cock into you, his balls slapping against your clit. "Yes, you can," he growled. "And you will."

You whimpered, the pressure inside of you reaching a breaking point. "Bucky, please please please," you begged, the pleasure threatening to consume you.

"Now," he commanded, his voice harsh and commanding. "Cum for me, doll."

You cried out, the pleasure exploding throughout your body. Your walls clenched around his cock, your muscles spasming. Your mind went blank, the world around you fading away. Your body was shaking uncontrollably as he fucked you through your orgasm, his hips snapping against you, his cock pounding into you.

You were exhausted, your body drained of energy. He continued to fuck you, his pace slowing slightly.

He slapped your ass, the sting of his hand sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. "Such a good little slut," he growled, his hips slamming against yours. "Taking my cock so well."

"Bucky," you moaned, the pleasure building once again. "Please, I can't take anymore."

"Yes, you can," he said, his voice low and husky. He slapped your ass again, harder this time. "You're going to cum for me again, doll."

"No," you protested weakly, your body trembling with exhaustion.

“Yes," he growled, his thrusts becoming more intense. "You will." His metal hand sliding up your stomach, between your breasts, and around your throat.

Your body arched, pushing your hips further onto his cock. The sound of his ragged breaths mixed with yours as you both raced towards your climaxes. "I'm close, Y/N. So fucking close."

His hands pinched your nipples, sending another shock of pleasure through your body. He sucked on them, the sensation almost too much for you. You whimpered, his lips capturing yours again. Your tongues swirled around each other, tasting, devouring.

His cock slid in and out of you, his pace quickening. His moans and growls echoed around you as his orgasm neared. He was so close. So was you.

"Please, Bucky," you begged, your pussy clenching around his length.

He tightened his grip on your throat and slammed his hips into yours. His free hand slid down to your clit, his thumb rubbing circles over it. His eyes meeting yours. his hips slapping against yours, his cock hitting all the right spots.

"Cum with me, doll. Don't close your eyes. I want to see those pretty eyes as you come apart."

Your entire body shuddered, his command sending you over the edge. Your walls fluttered around his length, milking him of his seed. Your body trembled, your muscles spasming as you rode out the waves of ecstasy. His breath becoming ragged as his own release neared.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hips slapping against you. "Your cunt is so fucking perfect."

"God, yes," you moaned, the pleasure threatening to overwhelm you.

He slammed into you, his pace becoming erratic as he neared his release. "Oh god," he moaned, his hips snapping against yours. "I'm gonna cum."

"Yes, Bucky. Cum inside me," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your words were enough to send him over the edge.

He growled, his grip on your hair tightening as he pounded into you, his cock filling you completely. He groaned as he cum, his body shuddering as his release washed over him.

"That's right," he groaned, his body going limp. "Take all of it." You felt him twitch inside of you, his hot release spilling into you.

You slumped forward, your body spent as it slick with sweat and cum.  You could hear Bucky panting behind you, his chest heaving. You rested your forehead against the floor, trying to catch your breath. You had never been fucked so thoroughly in your life. Your muscles were sore and tired, your pussy throbbing.

Bucky was still inside of you, his cock softening. He pulled out, his cum spilling out of you. You could feel his cum leaking from your pussy, dripping down your thighs. "Look at that," he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Such a pretty sight." He slid a finger between your folds, collecting the sticky mess, then he pushed it back inside you. You let out a small whimper as he slowly pumped it in and out.

Bucky turned you around, your head falling back against the floor. His face hovered above yours, his blue eyes burning with lust. He looked down at you, before he could say anything, you both heard footsteps approaching.

You were panicking as someone could see you in such state, strangely, Bucky seemed unfazed, his expression steady despite the unexpected interruption. Then the next thing made your heart skipped as you heard the doorknob turning. You could only pray the ground to swallow you whole.

Hey everyone, I hope you enjoyed the story! Apologies if the ending didn't meet your expectations, I'm considering a Part 2, but I'd love to hear your thoughts. I'm open to any feedback for improvement. Your input means a lot.

If you want to see more, please show your support by leaving a like. Thank you for taking the time to read!

A/N : Thank you so much for the kind replies and support! I'm really glad you enjoy the story, you have no idea how much that motivate me to continue writing. Please stay tune for part 2! Love youuuu xx

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #marvel x reader #avenger smut #steve rogers #wanda maximoff #bucky enemies to lovers #bucky an asshole #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut

[wrongplacerighttime]

agent!harry x agent!fmc

the one where grace and harry are agents on a case, and they have to go undercover to get closer to their suspect. however, tensions come to light when they’re undercover in a sex club, and harry just can’t take it anymore.

little bit of plot, mostly smut slcksxkskc but i LOVE IT ANYWAY. don’t come for me. 😤

wc: ~5k.

tw: MDNI 18+!!!, talks of murder, drinking, sex club, dom!harry, stubborn!oc

part two here // little bunny masterlist

little bunny

The club Grace stood in front of was designed to be discreet to any unassuming passerby. Her coat was pulled tightly around her, hiding the expensive lingerie set she had bought specifically for the occasion. She had never been somewhere like this, and she felt out of place. The building sat flush with the rest on the block, the architecture of history’s past was accentuated with up to date brick and mortar, black metal accents adorning the doors and tinted windows. She was nervous, and walking into a somewhat dangerous situation. She stepped into the darkened club after showing her ID to the security guard in the foyer. She almost refuses to take away her only barrier between her dignity and indecency, reluctantly handing her coat over to the man standing by the coat closet, but she does, acknowledging to herself that she needed to play the part of a cheating wife here to find a man to satisfy her in a way her husband can’t.

She moves on light footsteps further into the building, the stench of sex diluted by cigarette smoke filtered into her lungs. She puts on a face of false confidence, taking all her strength to not hug her arms tightly around her body to hide her figure from the prying eyes in the room. There are men surrounding the bar, some of them sporting tan lines where wedding rings are missing, a detail often overlooked by most. They’re only here to get an easy, quick fuck while their wives are home not suspecting a thing. She wrinkles her nose before correcting her expression and runs a hand through her hair, looking around the area as she inhales and tries to shake the nerves away while pulling on the dreaded collar that her female coworker insisted she should wear to “help get into character”. “It’s just part of the costume,” she reminds herself while making her way to a bar stool.

“Weston, are you alright so far? We’re about to send Styles in.” She hears Aaron, her boss, in her earpiece, static interfering with their signal. She discreetly adjusts the position of it in her ear before answering.

“Yep. Just peachy.” She sarcastically answered under her breath, silently wishing she were anywhere else. She feels exposed and the fake wedding band is uncomfortable and feels tight, like it's holding her finger in a vice. She moves further into the club, making sure the ring is visible to any patrons that may be watching her.

She didn’t want to be here, but realistically, she knew she was the only chance they had to catch the suspect they’d been hunting for just over a week now. They have concluded that the suspect is a recently divorced man who is using surrogates for his murders, dumping them on the streets of Seattle and somehow hasn’t been caught yet. All of the victims were last seen at this club. They haven’t had any reason to arrest him yet, because otherwise he’s a perfect law abiding citizen, and unless they have proof beyond a reasonable doubt, they can’t get a search warrant issued. The only thing they’re going on is that the women he’s kidnapped from this club look eerily similar to his ex wife, and he takes a souvenir from them every time. Their wedding rings.

Grace lifts her gaze from her glass to look around the room, and her eyes briefly catch as the man beside her looks her up and down before turning back to his drink. She feels her cheeks redden slightly, thankful that she was wearing a decent amount of makeup to hide the stain of embarrassment. She would never be seen in something like this, even with her sexual partners. And she never wanted to admit but her sex life was pretty vanilla compared to this. She was dreading that Harry, of all people, was going to be seeing her like this. She only saw one of her coworkers before she had to go inside, and if she had a choice she wouldn’t have seen any of them. There was a knock on her hotel door that interrupted her just as she was putting on her coat to cover up. When she answered the door she expected it to be one of the other women she worked with checking on her, so she didn’t button up. To her dismay it was Sean, their tech guy. She needed to be hooked to an earpiece so she had to suffer through the breath catching in his throat and his endless stutters as he helped her hook with the new technology she was unfamiliar with. And of course, because it was Sean, it was more awkward than it needed to be.

“I’m inside.” She hears Harry’s voice through the speaker hidden in her ear behind her hair as she swallows down the martini she ordered, thankful that they were making an exception to the no alcohol on the job rule. She had a feeling she’d need a little bit of a buzz to deal with Harry tonight, and there was no telling how much time would pass before they got what they needed. Her boss told her to only accept drinks that she had watched be made, as if she didn’t already possess the common knowledge and she wasn’t a federal agent. Her eyes flitted around the room and she caught sight of Harry as he passed the bar and made his way to a location that wasn’t in her line of sight from where she was sitting.

The plan that she and Harry would be the ones undercover wasn’t her own. Harry had suggested it, and because it was his idea, it was the best one and it needed to be executed. Grace would be playing the part of the married woman here to cheat on her husband while he was at home not suspecting a thing. Harry just had to be the one she seduced and left with. They had no way of knowing for sure if the suspect would be there tonight, they were just betting on his timeline being the same as it has been for the past three murders. If he was there, there was no way to know if he would actually set his sights on her. As fucked up as it sounds, Grace hoped he would so she didn’t have to do this again, and she really wanted to be the one to cuff this scumbag. She glanced around the bar, hoping to see his face in the sea of sleazy men. She studies every single patron sitting within her line of sight, and finally, her eyes land on him. Jesse Baker. His dirty blonde hair was greasy on top of his head, and he was sipping on a glass of beer. She stares at him for a moment, willing him to look her way as if he could read her thoughts. After a beat, his eyes meet hers and she feels a shiver up her spine. She doesn’t react, she just makes sure her left hand is in view so he sees the gold ring adorning her finger. She knows he’s seen it when he scowls at her, and if looks could kill she’d already be dead.

“He’s spotted me.” Grace says quietly under her breath, looking away so he doesn’t see her mouth moving. “I’m on the move.”

“Did he see the wedding ring?” Aaron asks. Grace stands taking her glass with her and walking away from the bar.

“Yeah. He saw. Where are you, Styles?”

“Back corner.” His voice is low in her ear and she shivers again, this time for a different reason. There's always been some kind of tension between them, and Grace is no stranger to the way he looks at her when he thinks she doesn’t notice. But he’s never approached her that way, and all they do is bicker back and forth about the correct plan of action on every single case they work together. To him she’s always wrong and he’s always right, and when she is right he doesn’t even acknowledge it, just grumbles something about a ‘lucky guess’ and walks away. She saunters around the bar walking right past their suspect, spotting Harry in the far back of the club. A woman seems to be eyeing him from her table so Grace quickly makes her way to him before he’s stuck in a situation that would be counterintuitive to the reason they were here in the first place.

His eyes meet hers before trailing down to the black lace that covers her from her chest to the tops of her thighs, leaving little to imagination. And he has imagined it. Every time she juts her lip out in concentration, or everytime she gives him her endless attitude he so desperately wanted to put in its place. He shifts in his seat, biting the inside of his cheek before leaning forward and setting his glass down on the small table in front of him. She smiles nervously at him as she moves closer and when she’s within arms reach, he grabs her wrist and pulls her onto his lap.

“H-hey.” Grace stutters and catches herself on the back of the booth, caging his head between her arms. She tilts her head slightly and she wraps one arm around the back of his shoulders after she steadies herself. He lightly drags the tip of his nose up her neck before bumping it against her ear and she swallows a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Just playing the part, don’t want him to get suspicious.” He mutters and she nods, making herself comfortable, and while he was the one to pull her into his lap, he doesn’t touch her any further than that. Movement catches the corner of her eye and she notices Jesse moving closer to them. She watches him from her peripheral as he takes a seat at the booth behind them, facing them with his legs spread out and resting his drink on his knee while he holds the glass by the rim. She buries her nose in Harry’s hair, breathing in the delicious scent of whatever product he had in it and placing a kiss against his temple, her lips barely brushing over his skin.

“He’s behind us.” She mumbles, moving to straddle over his hips without thinking, just wanting to be able to keep her eye on Jesse. She hears him clear his throat, keeping his hands beside him on the seat and she’s sure they’re about to give away their guise because Harry is way too tense for someone who would’ve been expecting this. She brings her lips to his neck, taking his skin between her teeth before kissing over the spot. She hears him curse under his breath, clenching his hands into fists on the booth. “Do something with your hands, you need to make yourself a little more convincing.” She breathes against his ear and he nods once before placing his hands on her hips and squeezing lightly. Just as she was about to say something else, they’re interrupted by a woman dressed all too similarly to Grace. She’s tall, at least 6’ in her heels and she has long fiery-red hair cascading down her back, her neck adorned with a black leather collar.

“Look at you two getting all cozy.” Her eyes flick between Grace and Harry before narrowing. “There’s private rooms down that hallway over there,” she gestures with her hand, Harry’s gaze follows and he nods at her, flashing a wide smile her way.

“Thank you.” He croons and snakes his hand down from Grace’s hip to the swell of her ass, palming and gripping onto her as the woman’s eyes follow his touch.

“I’m not sure if we’ll need one tonight, I’m trying to teach her how to control and behave herself, she’s a bratty little bunny, aren’t you?” He turns his head and mutters the last few words against the skin between her breasts, his hot breath billowing outwards as he licks a stripe upwards to her collarbone. She whimpers and grinds against him purely out of habit from the pleasure building, and when she does she’s surprised to feel him hard under her. She nods shyly and his finger hooks under her collar, pulling lightly and tilting his head.

“Words, baby. Be polite.” He purrs at her, and it takes all of her mental strength to not widen her eyes at him.

“Y-yes sir.” Is all she can answer, her cheeks reddening slightly and she buries her face in his neck. He brings a hand up, trailing it down her spine with featherlight fingertips. He pushes her to stand, spinning her around before pulling her back down onto his lap, except she’s facing away from him now and he brings his hands over the expanse of her thighs before squeezing there, dimpling the skin. The nameless woman still standing and watching the interaction, clicks her tongue once and her eyes look back to where Jesse still sits. Grace watches her, noticing the way her eyes are narrowing at him and the way she shakes her head, like they’re communicating with each other telepathically. She turns her head back to Harry and Grace, plastering a fake smile on her face.

“Well. If you need anything, just let me know.” She eyes Grace up and down before turning and walking away. Grace waits until she’s out of hearing range before craning her neck to look at Harry over her shoulder. His eyes meet hers briefly before he looks away.

“Little warning would have been nice.” She grumbles as he scoffs.

“Yeah, how exactly did you expect me to do that?” He whispers with annoyance lacing his tone, bringing his mouth to her shoulder blade and kissing lightly. A burst of pleasure runs down her spine and she grinds against him, causing a hiss to fall from between his gritted teeth and he grips her hips tightly, moving her so the pressure isn’t against his cock straining in his pants. She chooses to ignore it for the time being.

“Did you notice her looking at him?” She mutters and he nods, keeping his hands tight on her hips. She doesn’t know how much longer she can do this, and she hates to admit that Harry looks extremely delectable tonight, his hair styled to perfection on top of his head, dressed in black dress pants with a white button up loosely fitting his torso…unbuttoned enough to give her just a hint of the butterfly tattooed on his abs. She catches herself thinking about how it would feel to trail her tongue over it before she forces the image away from her mind and focuses on the task at hand.

-

About a half an hour passes of them bantering back and forth, Jesse watching them the entire time while they exchange just enough physical contact to make it believable. Grace has been drinking and it’s coming to a head, feeling tipsy now and a little more brave. She tangles her hands in Harry’s hair, the fake ring is visible to their suspect as she does so, watching as he narrows his eyes at her and Harry. She feels her arousal pooling on the material of the lingerie as she pushes her center against him and he leans his head back and lets out a soft groan. She watches his eyes flutter closed as he moves her hips over his erection. When he opens them back up to see her smirking down at him, she notices something primal in his expression. He stands abruptly, pushing her off of him in the process and grabbing her hand, leading her down the hallway of private rooms.

“Harry, what are you doing?” She whisper-yells at him, her words running together from slight intoxication but he doesn’t answer. He finds a door cracked open, poking his head inside and making sure it's unoccupied. He pulls her inside, closing the door and locking it behind them before he spins her around and pushes her against it. Grace jumps when a voice speaks in her ear.

“What's going on?” Aaron asks both of them and Harry curses under his breath and drops his head to her shoulder, both of them forgetting about the earpieces up until that moment.

“Give us a minute, new information. Need to come up with a plan.” He lies as he stares directly into Grace’s eyes with dark, blown out pupils, licking his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth

“Styles, we need to know your location in the club at all times.” Aaron scolds him and he shakes his head.

“Do you trust us?” He asks and Aaron responds with a hesitant yes. “Okay. Then give us a minute.” He says before ripping out his earpiece. He does the same with Grace’s, and then his lips crash to hers. She moans into the kiss, opening her mouth and giving him access to her. His tongue darts in and he’s running his hands up to the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling hard enough for her to yelp and he attaches his lips to her pulse point.

“You play dirty.” He mutters against her skin before pulling back and she gives him a devilish grin.

“Didn’t know I needed to play fair.” She remarks, feigning innocence and he pulls her hair again as she hisses through her teeth.

“Think I don’t know what you’re doing?” He seethes and she smiles again. “Think you can just prance over to me in this slutty little outfit and not expect me to want to shove my cock inside you?” He asks, tilting his head slightly and her eyes flutter closed at his words, a switch inside him flipping almost instantaneously. He thinks he has her right where he wants her, but she’s not going to give him what he wants that easily.

While still fisting her hair, he pulls her away from the door and shoves her down onto the sofa in the middle of the room. He flips her over, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her ass up in the air. She squirms underneath him, and he runs his hand softly up the back of her exposed thigh. She shivers, goosebumps forming at his gentle touch. He gives no warning before he pushes the material keeping her wet center covered to the side. He drags a finger through her arousal before shoving it into her and she cries out. He hums with satisfaction, feeling the way she clenches on his fingers at the intrusion.

“You’re dripping. All for me, sweet girl?” He coos at her but she doesn’t answer, instead her jaw falling slack as he pumps his finger in and out of her. His eyes flare with lust, but he stops all together causing her to whimper. “Need you to use your words or I’ll stop.” He demands, the change in his tone giving her whiplash.

“Y-you wish.” She stutters, trying to sound confident, and he knows she’s trying to put up a front, and he doesn’t like her answer. He smacks her ass, hard. He clicks his tongue, gently rubbing the area quickly turning red with his handprint.

“Want to rethink that?” His voice is low. She tries to push her hips back against him, searching for any friction but he doesn’t let her.

“Look at you, such a needy little bunny. You knew what you were doing getting me all riled up.” He croons, bending over her body and nipping at her ear. The pet name he used earlier brings a heat swirling into her belly, a feeling that she craved.

“Wasn’t doing anything. Just playing the part like you told me to.” She lies through her teeth in a breathy tone.

“Hmm. S’that why you’re all wet, then?” He pushes two fingers into her and her eyes flutter closed as she bites her bottom lip. He pumps and curls, stretching her so deliciously it makes her toes curl. He goes deeper, all the way too the knuckle and she feels the tightening of the coil inside her belly. She’s close, so close. He pulls his fingers away from her and her chest heaves at the empty feeling, tearing her away from the edge just as she was about to tumble over. He sits on the couch beside her, pulling her onto his lap and she straddles his hips. He pulls the top of her outfit down, exposing her breasts to him. In the same second, he attaches his mouth to one of her nipples while pinching the other between his thumb and finger. She throws her head back and grinds her hips down over his cock still confined behind the zipper.

“I hate you.” She moans as he lightly bites and sucks on her nipple. She’s breathless as she says it, and he bucks his hips to meet hers.

“You have a funny way of showing it.” He mumbles against her skin, reaching a hand between their bodies and rubbing over her clit. She falls forward, her head falling against his shoulder as he rubs circles at a slow, torturous pace.

“You think you’re so great? You think every woman who looks your way wants you? Like you’re God’s gift to them?” She huffs, not realizing the irony of her words and the position she’s in due to the insatiable want clouding her mind.

“And yet here you are.” He mutters, the corner of his mouth pulling into a half smile and she rolls her eyes. He grabs her face, forcing her to look at him. His pupils are blown out and he tilts his head, studying her like he’s a predator hunting his prey, knowing she’s about to say something smart again and nipping it in the bud before it has the chance to escape her lips.

“Attitude.” He says pointedly, squeezing her cheeks and she can’t help the whine that builds in her throat and betrays her. “Be a good little bunny or I won’t let you cum.” He threatens and she swallows her words down without so much as a sigh.

Her hands fall from his chest and to his pants, fumbling with the button and unzipping them. He lifts his hips and pulls them down just enough and his cock springs free from where it was confined behind his zipper. Her eyes widen and her mouth waters, wanting nothing more than to drop to her knees and take him down her throat at the sight of him. He watches her for a beat before pulling her face back to him and kissing her, shoving his tongue into her mouth aggressively.

In an instant, he’s gripping the backs of her thighs and lifting her as he stands from the sofa without detaching his mouth from hers. Her hands grip his hair, pulling at the root and he groans into the kiss, her back meeting the cool surface of the wall across the room. She feels the head of his cock at her entrance, and she wiggles her hips against him in an attempt to push him into her, begging for more contact. He holds her steady, and she’s unsuccessful in her efforts as she whimpers into his mouth. He pulls away far enough to meet her eyes, her chest heaving and her eyes pleading for him.

“Beg me for it.” He demands, breathless. The look in her eyes shifts, and she narrows them at him.

“Fuck you.” She seethes, her usual personality fighting to stay dominant over the one she wants to slip into. He holds her up with one hand, bringing the other up to grab the collar still strapped around her throat. He pulls, bringing her forehead to his, the tips of their noses touching and she feels her air supply dwindling.

“Beg. Or I’ll leave you in here, your pretty little pussy all weepy and empty.” He grits through his teeth and she can’t deny she wants him like this always. He lets go and she sucks in a breath that she desperately needed. She’s stunned for a moment, this side of him still new to her. She’s itching to provoke him further, just to see how far he’ll go. But she also just really wants him to fuck her,

“Please.” She whispers and he laughs, shaking his head slightly

“You can do better than that, bunny.” His voice is low and gravely, and she can tell he’s holding himself back. She sighs, throwing her head back against the wall. He waits, and when she lifts her head to look at him again, she gives him a look that reads mischief.

“Please, oh please, give me your cock, sir, I need it, need it so bad. Plea—” Her fake, whiny voice is cut off by him slamming his cock into her and she feels the breath whoosh from her lungs. Tears prick the corner of her eyes at the sting of him stretching her, and it’s all she knows. All she feels. Her head falls forward against his shoulder and she cries out from pleasure sparking down her spine.

“God, you look so much better when you just shut up.” He grits with annoyance, breath heavy in his lungs as she squeezes him perfectly. He tosses his head back as he sets a slow, torturous pace. Her hands find his hair again, holding the back of his head and fisting his hair for something to grip as he pulls out to the tip before driving back into her. She’s a mess of moans and whines and she lifts her head from his shoulder and arches her back against the wall. His mouth finds her throat, lapping and sucking on her skin. She knows she won’t last, and he can sense it too, the way she’s clenching him and bucking into him. He brings one hand up between her thighs, pressing lightly on her clit with his thumb, rubbing small circles with light pressure and his name falls from her lips in breathy moans.

“That’s it…cum for me. Know you want to.” He encourages her, and the sparks dancing down her spine travel right to her center and turn to flames of pleasure…desire. He presses her clit once, and that’s it, all she needs. She comes completely undone, tipping over the edge and dropping her head to his shoulder once more, her pussy squeezing him and willing him to come inside her. He groans, a single bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he slams into her.

“Feel so fucking good cumming all over my cock, bunny. So good. Like you were made for me.” He’s breathless, his hips meeting hers one final time before he’s spilling into her, bringing his lips to hers in a sloppy kiss as he rides through it, moaning into her mouth, filling her until he slides out and he drips down her thighs.

Gently, he lowers her until her feet meet the floor. She stumbles, humming as he brings his hands to her face and wipes the mascara running down her cheeks with the back of his fingers. His eyebrows pull together as her eyes meet his. He makes sure she’s steady, pulling her lingerie back into place and tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them before walking away and finding their earpieces that he threw across the room.

“Now, you’re gonna leave this room with my cum dripping from that pretty little pussy. Let it run down your thighs. Gonna be a good little bunny and let them all see who you belong to, right?” Her head is fuzzy, and she nods without thinking. She can’t think straight, forgetting for a moment why they were even here in the first place. He checks his watch, and all of twenty minutes have passed feeling like hours. He situates the technology in her ear, then moves to his, clearing his throat before he speaks.

“Aaron. We have reason to believe he’s working with a partner. There’s a woman in here that he’s been communicating with, and I think she plays a part in luring the women to him.” He speaks clearly, as if he didn’t just have his cock buried inside Grace, wishing he had a little more time, and he realized he was going to be insatiable for her, already thinking about when he could have her next.

“We didn’t profile a partner?” Aaron sounds confused, and Harry’s eyes travel to Grace still leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath without making it obvious to anyone listening.

“Grace and I went to a private room, Baker is going to assume he knows what we did in this room. He’s going to make a move, or his partner will. Need another body inside. Need more eyes on him.” Harry says, calm and collected. “It’s going to have to be a man, because I’m sure there’s no other women on our team dressed like Grace.” He mutters.

“Weston, are you there?” Aaron asks and his voice speaking directly to her snaps her back to reality quickly.

“Uh, yeah. Here. I’m here.” She makes her presence known.

“Alright. I’m coming in.” He says, and they both look at each other once before nodding. Grace feels the ache in her thighs as she walks towards the door, Harry behind her. He leans into her just as her hand reaches for the handle.

“Still hate me?” He whispers in her ear

“Always.” She mutters.

“Good. It’d be boring if you didn’t.” He smirks, his hand on her back as they exit the room. She knew she was ruined, already wanting more of him, more time with him.

But it’ll have to wait.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry #styles #harry styles x fmc #fic #harry fic #harry styles smut #harry styles au #agent!harry #agent!fmc #dom!harry #stubborn!fmc #smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x oc #harry styles fic

[salsasvault]

I don't write often but this au has just been sitting in my brain ever since i watched an ep about border security and i need to get it out.

nsfw below, mdni

airportsecurity!ghost + airportsecurity!price x reader

tw: abuse of power, non-con elements, /f!reader/ 18+

It was standard procedure, any sort of suspicious activity needed to be investigated, and it just so happens that was the very flight you were on. Boarding was easy, and the flight was surprisingly pleasant too, a contrast to the intense anxiety you’d felt before the trip, so really everything after that should be a breeze.

Walking into Heathrow Airport gave you a sense of excitement, the trip to London that you had been thinking about finally coming to a reality. 

With your carry-on behind you, you made the walk toward the exit, thinking about the trip to the hotel and where you’d eat lunch. As you made your way toward the walkway however multiple TSA agents were blocking the way, the passengers ahead of you already being questioned with their passports in hand. 

You let out a quick breath, steading your nerves, this is unusual but then again what do you know about London and their security measures? Trying to suppress the number of anxiety-inducing thoughts, you make your way to one of the available officers. Dressed in a black outfit, name tag reading Riley, in all caps, you look up to meet his eyes. He speaks first.

“Just need to see your passport, and ask a couple of questions.” 

“Yeah, no problem! Just give me a second.” You quickly reply, hoping to not raise any suspicion, you really had no reason for him to be suspicious at all but a situation like this left you even more anxious than normal. 

Fishing through the handbag, you were thankful for keeping your passport handy, hastily pulling it out, to not waste any more of his time, you hand it over to him. 

“Thank you.” He flips it open, glancing at your picture, date of birth, and other information

You silently cringe at the almost 3-year photo old, you haven’t quite mastered the art of government pictures yet. 

“And where’ya headed love” 

“Just out to London.” You keep your voice steady, trying to keep a sense of calm. 

“Alright, you here on business? What’s the reason for your visit?” He glances up at you this time, handing your passport back to you. 

You slide it back in your bag while giving him your answer. 

“Just here to visit, always wanted to see London.” You say, letting out a nervous laugh at the end of that. 

He nods his head. “Are you meeting anyone?” He asks tilting his head. 

“Uh yeah, my dad, he flew in earlier, a couple of days ago.” 

You respond hoping that this little interaction would be over soon, you weren’t sure how much longer you could chat with a man that looked like him while maintaining composure. Sure he was an officer, but by god was he a good-looking one, you internally scolded yourself for that remark, he’s just doing his job, and thinking about him like that is very wrong. Besides these are highly trained men, so the chances of him knowing you're attracted to him are higher than normal. Of course, normal people probably can't tell.

“A couple of days ago, separate flights?” He questioned. 

“Oh yeah. he got a really good deal for the 7th and I was supposed to be on that flight with him but I couldn’t get my time off for that date, hence why, the later meeting.” You gave him a timid smile, gesturing slightly with your hands, hoping that answers any of his questions. You were truthful and didn’t say anything to raise suspicion, so really you should be able to go so you could then blush profusely at the close contact and his accent. 

He glanced back at what seemed to be his superior officer, receiving a nod from him you assume you’re in the clear. That was until he opened his mouth.

“Okay, I’m just gonna ‘ave you come back with me, for a couple more questions.” 

Your heart dropped, swallowing you gave him a an awkward smile. 

“Yeah, yeah no problem.”

“Follow me this way.”

You followed him as he led the way, the nervous thoughts that had so far remained in check started to spring loose. What if they falsely accuse you of something and you can’t prove you didn't do it? God, you had just watched a documentary of a man who spent 30 years in prison for something he didn’t do, what if the next movie’s about you? Cringing internally, you shove everything away, focusing on remaining as calm and composed as possible. 

//

Simon knew they had already apprehended the suspect, they received a tip from the JFK airport that there may have been someone smuggling some form of narcotics, and it was their job to search for them. Stopping passengers was not a common practice but Simon’s done his fair share. Ask the usual questions, confirm their passport, and look for any details that may give anything away. 

When you approached him, the only free officer, he felt something stir in his stomach. A young thing, innocent looking, fresh off the plane. He knew you were most definitely not the suspect they were looking for, nonetheless, he proceeded with the standard procedure. 

After hearing the first words come out of your mouth, he immediately turned to glance at Price. Both sharing the same look he went back to the task at hand. Pre Deciding they couldn’t just let a pretty thing like you escape from their grasp. He listened to every word you said, a small smirk playing at his lips from the nervousness that lightly dripped from your voice. Poor girl, all alone, being stopped in an unknown country, he could feel the anxiety rolling off of you no matter how much you tried to hide it. 

So when he knew he was just about done and ready to take you back, he gave Price one last look, a sly smile tugging on his face, and a nod following. Nothing felt as good as watching you slowly pale after he told you he’d need to bring you back for questioning.

//

Sitting in the chair opposite to, what looked to be one of the two officers' desks, you bounced your leg up and down. Your luggage tucked in the corner, your phone in hand as you waited for either of them to arrive. You unlock your phone sending a quick text to your Dad, telling him you were caught up with security and they just had some questions to ask you. In return you receive the classic Dad response, a single thumbs up followed by a: “Don’t worry, you’ll be out soon.” Your Dad, ever so helpful. 

When the door opened you stilled glancing back to see both men enter, the previous officer, Riley, and a man who looked just slightly older than him, name tag reading Price.

You mentally sighed and cursed at your luck, not only were you stopped for extra questioning but of course as fate would have it both officers had to be stupidly good-looking.

If your underwear started to gain a slight wetness to it, it definitely has nothing to do with them.

Officer Riley locked the door behind him, going to stand in the corner as his superior moved to sit behind the desk. 

“I’m Officer Price, we just ‘ave a couple o’ questions to ask ya.” He clears his throat, his demeanor straight to the point.

You glance at his hands, folded on the table, we you wait to answer anything he throws at you. 

"You said you were meeting your Dad?" He waits for confirmation looking back down at the paper.

“Yes, He flew a couple days ago.” He shifts.

“Alright, now ma’am, I’m going to be honest here, we were alerted by JFK that there was someone who was potentially smuggling drugs.” He glances up at you before returning his gaze to whatever was on his paper. All the while Officer Riley’s eyes burn holes through you. Your eyes momentarily flicker to his before you return your gaze to the man sitting in front of you. 

A small “Oh” was all you could manage, if your heart could drop any further, it did. Your heart rate slowly rises, you know you didn’t smuggle anything, but the thought of being put away for something you didn’t do sat heavy on your mind. 

A cute little thing you were, sat fidgeting in front of Price, each word coming out of his mouth made you shrink. He could practically feel the anxiousness oozing off of you. No fret, you’ll feel better soon. He knew that none of this was necessary, all for show so he and Simon could have their way with you. If they were on their own personal lunch break you wouldn't know, he continued, explaining what would happen next. 

“I’m just going to have Officer Riley here search your bag if that’s alright.” He voices, he looks down at the same sheet of paper, and then raises it back up to look at you.

“Yeah! That-That’s no problem.” You sit in your seat as you watch Officer Riley move to grab your luggage, mentally going through anything in there that could raise concerns. 

He lifts the suitcase, setting it down on the metal table tucked in the corner. Unzipping it, he opens it, revealing your clothes and the various little bags you made to separate your toiletries. He goes through the clothes, sifting through each, one by one, unfolding and rearranging. He lifts a pair of your black lace underwear, holding it up and inspecting it. 

Your cheeks burn, your face hot in embarrassment.

Once he’s satisfied with the extent he’s searched, he closes the bag, zipping it back and placing it on the floor. 

“No issues detected Sir.” 

“Good, alright following protocol were gonna ‘ave to search ya.” His scouse accent trickling through. 

You felt another wave of heat and embarrassment and hint of wetness flooding you. Rendered a little you speechless, you nod. Answering finally,

“I-okay, you-okay.”

Officer Riley from his position in the corner.  

“ Need ya t’a spread your arms for me, move those legs apart too-yeah just like tha'.” 

He really had no reason to sound so sexual for something as tame as a search. You did as told though, following his orders. His hands roaming across your body patting down any areas “necessary”, you chalked off the extra time he spent on your breasts and crotch to another ‘simply doing his job’. Once the search was over he straightened up, telling his superior that it was all clear. You finally let out a breath, hoping to be let free.

“Last step and we’ll send you out, I’ll be conducting a strip search.”

At this point whatever forces that were out there were torturing you, you could no longer hide the wetness pooling inside your underwear. And the shock running through your body made sure you were unable to form words. You gave a nod in replacement to the stuttering alternative.

He walked you over to the table where your luggage had just been, bending you at the waist. As your heart rate picked up, you then open your mouth. 

“I’m sorry-but is this really necessary, I mean I’ve never committed any crime, like ever, and my suitcase is clear I-”

“Just do as you're told, if you have nothing to hide you should have no issues.” 

You quickly close your mouth as his hands pull your pants down roughly, pooling at your feet. Your underwear clinging to you, the wetness apparent. He continues his “search”, pulling at your underwear, letting it fall alongside your pants. 

You squeak out a sound of embarrassment, eyes filling with humiliation. He presses up against you, fingers moving up and down your slit. The faintest groan could be heard, from who, you weren’t sure. 

“Fucking dripping.” He lets out a chuckle, as you go to protest. Before you can get anything out however he shoves a finger inside. 

Your eyes screw shut, as he thrusts his finger into you, adding a second to join in. 

“Part of the procedure, sweetheart.” 

You let out small breaths, the faintest whines following after, as you tried to conceal your noises. He hits a spot inside you causing you to choke out a gasp. Price lets out a noise of approval, choosing to then continuously hit that spot. 

“You-” you let out a small moan, as he rubs around your g-spot, your brain short-circuiting. 

“What’s that? You gonna ‘ave to speak up love.” He taunts, relishing in your embarrassment. 

He continues his ministrations, his other hand coming to roughly rub at your clit. You can’t help the small moans that leave your mouth, as you try to hold them back.

“Oh fuck-”

You hear Officer Riley move toward you, manhandling your body so your splayed at the corner, backside facing Price while, face level with his crotch. He crouches down slowly to meet your eyes. 

“Be as loud as you want lovie, no one can hear ya.” He probe his finger in your mouth, as you keep it clasped shut.

“Have t’a search it, part of the procedure.” 

Price hits that spot inside you harder, causing you to let out another moan, mouth opening for him. 

“Perfect.” He groans out, fingers pushing your tongue down. 

“Where ‘ave they been hiding ya?” He smirks, standing to unbutton his pants, a noise of surprise is let out by you, muffled by his fingers. 

Left hand singularly undoing his belt. Shoving his pants down, stopping at his knees.

His cock springs out, thick and large, your eyes widening at the sight.

Price behind you pulls his fingers out abruptly, helping you regain some consciousness you open your mouth to protest at the man infront of you.

Your actions however, are interrupted by the thick length being shoved inside you from the man at your backside.

“Have to be thorough.” He lets out a laugh, dark eyes feeding off the sight of you. 

You choke a sound of surprise, as he almost immediately starts a brutal pace. The man in front of you speaks.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, open up nice and wide.” He clicks his tongue.

You shake your head until Price drives into you especially hard. Mouth opening in surprise.

“That’s it, good girl.” You gasp around his length, being fucked into by the pair of them. 

Price chimes in from behind.

“Look at you, such a good girl letting two officers fuck you, making sure she’s not causing any trouble.” He reaches over to rub at your clit, fingers moving in quick circular motions. Both of them rocking into you at a brutal pace. 

You feel yourself approaching your climax, with muffled moans and cries. 

“Can you feel clenching around me sweetheart, be a good girl, come on my cock, that's it.” He groans, his pace speeding up as the other approaches his climax as well. 

After a harsh rub to your clit you come, body shaking as tears leak from your eyes. Price continues his thrusts, as you inadvertently suck him in, the little whines vibrating around Simons's cock. They both finally come with a low groan, thick salty liquid coating your tongue and insides as you struggle to swallow. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” The man in front of you moans out. 

They both slowly slide out, leaving you boneless on the table, as you whine out at the movement.

“Quite the mess.” Price comments, a dark laugh following from the man in front of you. 

You make an exhausted noise in response. Quite the mess indeed. 

#simon ghost riley x reader #john price x reader #salsawritesforonce #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley smut #john price smut #captain john price x reader #cod mw2 #cod smut #john price x reader smut

[writingreadinglurkingandsmirking]

You Should Find Another Guiding Light - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Dear Reader Duology: Part 1, Part 2

Summary: With you drunk at Kelce’s party, Rafe has to drive you, his ex, home. Neither of you are over each other and both of you know it, for better or for worse. That doesn’t make things easy. Not at all. Word Count: 3.7k+ TWs/CWs: She/her pronouns used, adult/profane language, descriptions of a party, descriptions of drunkenness, a guy being a weirdo, Rafe being a little bit crazy, angst with the potential for a happy ending, I guess. Note: The title is in fact a Taylor Swift lyric lol. I don’t know, I just wanted to dip my toes in the OBX writing arena and I just had this idea pop into my head and not leave me alone so here it is. I think I might end up doing a part 2 for this just because I don’t want this to be Sad, but we shall see.

Rafe heard the chant of, “Go, go, go, go,” from the other side of the house.

The chant didn’t interest him even remotely. Pretty much nothing about the party did, actually. And if it weren’t at Kelce’s house while his parents were out of town, he wouldn’t have even bothered to come. The high he’d been riding had faded nearly an hour ago, and the drink in his hand was not nearly strong enough. He wasn’t even buzzed anymore, this was boring. All these fucking parties were boring now. Had been since…well, long enough now.

“Rafe,” he heard to his left, while about to bring the cup to his lips. He cut his eyes to the side. It was Topper, a grim look on his face, lips turned firmly downward. Rafe raised an eyebrow, lowering the cup. “Get the fuck out here, I need your help.”

“What?” he asked, huffing as he put down his cup on the nearest surface. Before Topper could answer, though, Rafe noted the ongoing chants from outside. A chant that was exclusively a mixture of his ex’s name—your name, the reason that nothing was enjoyable anymore—and cheers. “Oh fucking hell no.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Topper said dryly. “Me and Kelce just had to stop her from doing a keg stand in a skirt.”

“I swear to God,” Rafe growled. 

Rafe shouldered past him quickly making his way outside. You were dancing. He didn’t inherently have a problem with that. He loved watching you dance, in fact. Especially when you were drunk. But, that wasn’t even half the issue. He was torn between a mixture of fury and concern when he saw you, standing on top of the outdoor bar with some random guy holding your legs and trying to look up your skirt. The skirt that Rafe knew personally you almost never wore anything under. He couldn’t even imagine how drunk you were right now to not be flicking that guy’s hands off of you.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Topper advised.

“Shut the fuck up, Top,” Rafe retorted harshly.

He strode forward, landing his hand aggressively on the guy’s shoulder and squeezing it until the man winced and tried to pull away. Then, Rafe only squeezed tighter. The guy shouted in protest to the rough grip, but Rafe didn’t care. The tool still had the nerve to have his fucking hand on your leg. You hadn’t even noticed that Rafe was standing there yet, which was another mark to just how out of it Rafe knew you had to be.

“What the fuck, Cameron?” the guy demanded.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Rafe spat. “And what the fuck do you think that you’re doing?”

The guy, obviously far too stupid for his own good, smirked at Rafe. Actually fucking smirked. Rafe felt his blood pressure rising. Rafe saw, somewhere in his periphery that Topper and Kelce were both coming his way. He didn’t particularly care. He could easily handle this loser himself.

“You two aren’t even together anymore,” the guy said smugly. “So, last I checked she’s a free agent, isn’t she?”

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ,” Kelce muttered behind him.

Rafe paid no mind to it, hand moving from the guy’s shoulder to his throat. Rafe smiled at the shock in the guy’s eyes, an angry glint in his eyes. He ignored the other’s weak attempts at dislodging him and instead took a step closer, glaring down at the little fucker.

“Take your hand off her or you won’t have a hand,” he said flatly. Idiot that he was, literally being choked and surrounded by Rafe’s friends, the guy still didn’t move his hand. Rafe let out a harsh laugh, tilting his head to the side slightly, looking more pissed by the second. “We can jump from you losing the hand to me killing you. Your fucking choice.” Starting to go purple in his face, Rafe laughed at the guy again, not loosening his hold. He reached over with his other hand, peeling his grip off of your leg, squeezing hard enough that Rafe was shocked the bones weren’t cracking. “Wasn’t so fucking hard to listen, was it?”

“Rafe,” Topper said sharply.

Rafe glanced back at him and then rolled his eyes. He let go of the guy and threw him away, hard, towards the ground. A good friend as always, Kelce caught the guy, then he and Topper started walking the jackass out to make sure he actually left the party. Yeah, Rafe was going to have to make sure that he never saw that guy again. Or, if he did, that it wasn’t in public like this. Rafe turned his attention back to you and was startled to see you looking down at him already.

“Rafe?” you asked, cocking your head to the side, looking, quite frankly, like a confused puppy.

Clenching his jaw, Rafe reached up, patting the bare skin of your leg, forcing himself to keep it brief and not let his hands linger on the bare skin. “Come on, Princess,” he said firmly.

Your brow furrowed. “Fuck you! I’m having fun,” you slurred.

At that, Rafe let himself roll his eyes. “Yeah. I’m not letting you dance on the bar and do a fucking striptease. You’ll hate yourself tomorrow,” he said sharply. You glared down at him, but Rafe didn’t care, knowing that he was absolutely right. “Get the fuck down.” You didn’t listen, unsurprisingly—you never had—so he physically grabbed you, carefully maneuvering your body off the bar without exposing you to the whole party.

“Rafe,” you whined, “stop it. I don’t want to go with you!”

“Liar,” he said, scoffing before he could stop himself. When you were level with his face, he grabbed your chin and made you look at him. “Stop fucking fighting me before you flash somebody.”

You glared at him. “Who cares if I do?” you asked.

Once again, Rafe rolled his eyes. “I’ll take their fucking eyes out. But, let’s not do this, Princess. I’ve had enough shit today without this added on,” he said through grit teeth, losing the limited patience he’d started with. He helped you off the bar—manhandled you, really—until you were standing on your feet, using his body for support to stay upright. 

“You have no right,” you said, sniffing.

“How much have you even had to drink?” Rafe asked, amusement overcoming his irritation for a second.

“Oh fuck you,” you repeated, pushing weakly at his chest, even though your hand tangled in the bottom of his shirt like it always did when you were utterly sloshed. “I haven’t even had that much!” You then took on a distinctly dizzy look, swaying and Rafe cursed, catching your waist to steady you. “See? I’m fine!”

“Yeah, you’re so fine,” he agreed sarcastically. 

Without waiting for you to say anything else, Rafe started guiding you toward the exit. He nodded at Kelce and Topper as they passed. He ignored the looks on his friends’ faces as best he could. He didn’t need to think about the shit he’d get from them about this in the morning. No, instead, he focused on forcing you into the passenger seat of his truck and making you get buckled up. Only after Rafe got into the car and started it did you seem to register that you weren’t at the party anymore.

“Hey! Where the hell are you taking me? I’m not going home with you!” you slurred, clearly in an argumentative mood.

“No. You’re not. I’m taking you home. To your house,” he replied, patience coming back at least a little bit now that they weren’t in the stupid party crowd.

“Rafael Cameron you fucking suck,” you accused glaring at him.

“Why’s that?” Rafe asked, backing up and then putting the car in drive and practically peeling out of Kelce’s driveway.

You scoff at his question. It would be adorable if it weren’t at his expense, Rafe was sure. “First you fucking break up with me out of nowhere! And give me no explanation at all! And you take half our fucking friends in the end! And then you kill the goddamn vibe the second I try to have fun at a party,” you declare sounding genuinely pissed.

“That’s not—” Rafe began, stopping himself with a sigh when you cut him off.

“No! Shut up!” you demanded, hitting his arm, once, twice, a third time, until Rafe sharply pulled over and turned to glare at you. He was angry now, except his anger was short-lived. The moment he met your eyes and saw that yours were full of tears, he deflated. Your bottom lip trembled and Rafe had to actively count his breaths to keep from not reacting to it. “Why are you ruining parties now? Was my life not enough for you? You have to take the rest of the good things left too?”

Rafe inhaled shakily. He pinched his nose and tapped his fingers against the wheel and then looked back towards you. “You know you didn’t want someone else touching you,” he said calmly. “You hate when people think they can touch you at parties. You always have.” He took a breath. “I don’t want to see anything happen to you. Especially when you’re too drunk to think clearly.” You went to retort but Rafe shook his head. “No. Stop. Just listen to me.” You rolled your eyes and looked away. Rafe caught your chin and turned your face so you were looking at him again. “I’m not going to watch some losers take advantage of you. Ever. You think that’d stop?”

“Why do you even care?” you spat, displaying sadness more than the anger he knew you were going for.

“Don’t ask me that,” Rafe warned, shaking his head. “Don’t act like you don’t know already. The dumb act has never worked for you.”

You scoffed. “Oh? So you’re a coward now too on top of everything else? Cool,” you said. “Can’t even talk to me, huh?”

Rafe let go of your face and turned away from you, pulling back on the road and driving faster now towards your house. “You know damn well why I care,” he said through grit teeth.

“Do I?” you challenged.

“Princess,” he said sharply, “don’t do this right now.” He took a deep breath even though he didn’t want to. “You’re drunk.”

“And?” you demanded. “That makes me an idiot?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said, groaning in irritation. You swatted at his chest again. And truly, if this were anyone else, he’d have kicked them out of the car. But it was you. “Come on, Princess.” He tapped the steering wheel to manage the anxiety brewing in his chest at the thought. “We can have a conversation about it when you’re sober if you want. But I’m not doing this with you drunk. Fuck that.”

“Fuck you,” you reiterated as if you hadn’t already said it to him a thousand times that night.

Even with that declaration, you were blessedly quiet the rest of the ride. You fiddled with the heat on your side of the truck, getting comfortable, and just stared out of the window. And for the rest of the ride, Rafe could almost pretend that things were normal. The way that they should’ve been. Except that you were leaning on the door and not him. And that both of his hands were on the wheel, instead of one resting on your leg. And your stony silence, even when your favorite songs came on the shared playlist neither of you had gotten around to deleting yet. The silence in the car in general, really.

At your house, Rafe had to nearly throw himself from the car to get to your side before you opened the door and tumbled out. Even doing that, you nearly fell from the truck in an uncoordinated heap, stubbornly not wanting his assistance. He huffed and righted your feet on the ground, holding your waist and looking you over. You leaned into the touch for a second before seemingly realizing it, then you pulled wildly away, nearly falling again until he caught you.

“You can be angry after I get you to your room,” he said firmly.

“Fine,” you muttered, frowning.

Rafe went to move but you wouldn’t move. He tried to force you to move, but you resisted every logical piece of your mind, and every attempt he made. You were firmly stuck to your spot as if trying to grow roots like a tree. So, he picked you up again, carrying you to the door. Graciously, your parents weren’t in town and the house was empty, so no one had to see this disaster unfold. 

He took your key and unlocked the door easily, locking it behind them for the time being. He didn’t really feel like risking someone coming in when he was corralling a drunk you and he couldn’t pay full attention to everything else. Then, he carried you upstairs like it was nothing to him. He dropped you gently on your bed and avoided looking at you as he grabbed a pair of clothes for you to change into. He went into your bathroom and got makeup remover, knowing that you’d be pissed if you woke up with a trace of makeup still on your face still. 

As he walked back into the room, Rafe regretted leaving almost immediately. Your eyes were swimming with tears and a few were spilling down your cheeks. You looked away from him, trying to avoid his gaze, but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d noticed. You tried to scrub them away and he sighed almost silently. Rafe put the stuff down on the bed next to you and then knelt down in front of you. He grabbed your hands but didn’t say anything and waited.

“I hate you,” you said weakly, bottom lip wavering.

“I know,” he said, nodding. He cracked a fake grin. “I do too.”

“Fuck you,” you said, shaking your head. You sniffled and Rafe immediately knew that he wasn’t leaving for a while still. He stroked the back of your hands and waited once more. You always cracked. It didn’t take long, only a few breaths. “I love you. I…I fucking hate you.” You leaned heavily toward him and he wrapped his arms around you without hesitation. “I love you. I wish I didn’t.”

“I know,” he repeated. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. He let out a slow breath, deciding that fuck it, it didn’t matter anyway anymore, not if he didn’t think you’d remember this in the morning. “I love you too, Gorgeous. You know that.”

You let out a watery laugh. “No I don’t,” you denied. He frowned at the words. “You left me. I…I hate that you left me. I didn’t do anything!”

Rafe sighed. “We talked about this,” he said quietly.

“Fuck you. You decided. We didn’t talk about anything!” you reminded him.

And that was true. He grabbed your chin again, forcing your eyes to meet yet again. This time though, he leaned your foreheads together. Your bottom lip trembled, but you happily stayed close to him. He took it as the tiny, tiny, minuscule win that was. He moved his hand from your chin to your cheek, thumb tracing a pattern up and down, soothing and slow.

“I need to make sure you’re safe,” he reminded you.

“You’re stupid,” you said, pulling away from him. “Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I’m safe. Everyone knows that we were together. Everyone knows that to get to you they’d just have to use me. So I’m not suddenly more safe.”

“Safe from me,” Rafe gruffly corrected. When you open your mouth to retort, eyes alight with anger, he places his hand over your mouth. “Like I said, Gorgeous. We can talk about this later. When you’re not drunk. If you even want to still.”

“Oh? You’ll stop ignoring me then?” you asked from behind his hand. “Act like the adults that we are?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I haven’t been ignoring you. I’ve been giving you space,” he said. He let out a rough sigh, then shook his head, reminding himself that this would have to wait. “I promise we will talk about it if you want to. “Now can I please just help you change and get this stupid fucking makeup off you?”

Miracle of miracles, you didn’t try to fight him on it. So, he helped you change, ignoring the wandering hands and clumsy advances from you with ease. And then he forced you to get all the makeup off and brush your teeth. Then, he made you drink a bottle of water and settle in bed. You were pouting at him, tears still falling from your eyes—he didn’t know if they’d stopped since they started—that he brushed away lazily. Rafe sighed and sat next to you, stroking your cheek. Your hand landed on his knee, the touch almost hard as though you needed to squeeze his leg to remember he really was there. It broke his fucking heart.

“Come on, you gotta stop. We just got more water in you,” he said softly. “You know I can’t leave you when you’re upset like this. Not when you’re alone here.” He nearly winced at his phrasing when you seemed to cry harder for a moment. “Come on, Princess. You gotta stop crying.”

“Then I guess you can’t leave,” you replied shakily.

Rafe bit his lip, looking down at you. Knowing that he was already fucked anyways, he moved, pulling you practically into his lap. He held you tightly, glad that you didn’t even make an attempt at brushing the affection off. No, you leaned into the touch like you’d been starved of love your whole life. You laid your head right over his heart, eyes closed. He felt the way that your hands tapped the rhythm of his heartbeat into his arm. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I don’t want you to doubt that I love you. I don’t want you to doubt that…that our relationship is…was real,” Rafe said. “I do love you. It’s just…hard, Gorgeous.”

You turned your head up to meet his eyes. He watched a flurry of intense emotions—every single one he’d ever experienced…more, maybe—flash through your eyes in a matter of seconds. You reached up and stroked his cheekbone…his nose…his lips. Then, you dropped your hand to lay on his chest, right next to where your head was.

“We’ll talk about it,” you declared. “I want to. We have to.”

“Okay, Princess,” he agreed softly. He knew that there was a chance sober you wouldn’t actually want to talk to him. He could ignore that in the meantime. He could live in this moment. In the false hope of a promised future where you did want to talk to him. “We’ll talk.”

You leaned up and pressed an incredibly short fleeting kiss to his lips before burying your face in his chest. He closed his eyes and held you tighter, wishing that things were…different.  “Can you just…stay until I fall asleep?” you asked quietly. “I know you won’t stay all night, but…please?”

Rafe’s heart, again, broke for you. And he hated himself for hurting you the way that he was. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse. He stroked your arms, soothing. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep, Princess.” He knew it wouldn’t be long anyhow. Your eyes were already heavy, staying shut longer than they were staying open.

“I miss you, Rafe,” you admit quietly.

“I miss you too,” he said, equally quiet.

You paused. “I love you,” you said.

Rafe inhaled shakily. “I love you too. So much,” he said, voice sounding choked and short.

“Do you promise?” you whispered.

He paused. He had no doubt you heard his heart stutter in his chest. “I promise.”

Your eyes started to drift closed longer and longer while Rafe rubbed a soothing pattern up and down your back until he was sure you were asleep. You were incredibly beautiful in this peaceful sleep, with even breathing and a smile on your face. It was the happiest he’d seen you look in a while. He knew it was his fault. Again, he hated himself for it. It made him sure that he did the right thing even if it killed you both right now.

He had to leave.

He let out a sigh and pressed another kiss to your forehead, then another. He took the time to inhale your scent, memorize the way that you felt in his arms…to be with you again. Then, carefully, he got out of your grasp and stood. Rafe then settled you comfortably on your bed and tucked you in. He pressed a final kiss to your forehead then stood and walked to your bedroom door.

He had to leave. He didn’t want to.

For a beat, Rafe paused in the doorframe. He looked down at your sleeping frame. He longed to just lay down with you and forget the trials of the past two months without you. The hell he went through without you. He shook his head though. You deserved better. He was sure of it. He was almost certain that sober you would agree. Still, as he walked quietly down the hall, locking the door again behind himself, and slipping out back to his truck, he found himself hoping. Hoping that you would call him. Hoping that you would still want to talk.

He had to leave. He didn’t want to. He loved you.

In the quiet of his car, he took the time to look at his phone. Just after two thirty in the morning now. Your smiling face, still his wallpaper, looked back at him. He stared at the image of you, smiling at him like he was the sun, and felt his heart squeeze so tightly it took his breath away. 

He had to leave. He didn’t want to. He loved you. You were everything, even now.

He started the car and started to drive back to his own place now. He tapped at the steering wheel again to avoid chewing at his nails like you hated—even now you kept him from bad habits he had, even if they were the little ones.

Rafe knew he wasn’t strong enough to stay away and he didn’t want to.

Even if it made him selfish, he hoped you called him—he hoped for a second chance.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron one shot #obx x reader #obx x you #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx angst #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #rafe imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron obx #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #my writing #obx

[thedailyplatypics]

TW//pretty violent descriptions of Doof’s traps and wondering how they might actually kill Perry/Death/Falling/Suffocation/Burning

Perry Could Have Died A Lot:

Doofenshmirtz’s Traps Becoming Tamer, The Evolution Of Perry And Doof’s Relationship, And The Expendability Of OWCA Agents.

In Season 1 and 2 many of the traps created by Doofenshmirtz aimed to KILL Perry, either unintentionally or intentionally, and sometimes in the worst, most horrifying ways imaginable.

It’s genuinely concerning how bad some early traps were and what exactly Doofenshmirtz was expecting when these traps succeeded? I usually like to imagine Perry as an invincible fighting machine, but what if he wasn’t invincible? What if some of these traps actually succeeded? And What happens to the other poor OWCA agents that aren’t as skilled when their nemesis has something cruel in store?

Showing the de-escalation of these traps also shows just how much their relationship evolved over the course of the show.

But before we get into that though, let’s quickly go over some of these traps and just how badly they would have turned out for poor Perry.

I’ll be rating them from 0-10 on how awful each death would have been (10 being the worst) based on how slow the death would be, how helpless he would be, how horrifying it would be, how painful it would be, what the treatment of the remains would be like, and how bad it still is for Perry even though he escaped to give a FULL look at just how messed up Doof’s traps were.

A very slow, lonely death by suffocation and a helpless situation. What would Doof even have done to clean this up? Would he just keep Perry in there forever??

8/10 worst way to die

A long and horrifying death from falling as he would have been completely helpless to do anything, but wait for the inevitable thud and darkness at the end. If he fell on a hard surface the only thing recognizable from him would be his hat. More like Perry the Splat-ypus (I’m sorry)

7/10 worst way to die

A lot to breakdown here: Dismemberment, decapitation, blown to shreds by a canon ball, and literally a murder s**c*de bombing by nuclear detonation wtf☠️??? And imagine the cleanup for half these things..

7/10 worst way to die

Death by being mauled, torn to shreds, and eaten by crocodiles all while Doofenshmirtz watched with a smile on his face is pretty sick. (This is the second time Doof’s tried to feed him to crocs/gators)

7/10 worst way to die

This was mostly unintentional, but death by either hypothermia or suffocation.

6/10 worst way to die

This trap placed under a rocket booster would have instantly incinerated them if it had succeeded. While not very painful compared the rest, it’s equally as scary. Imagine being there for one second and then poof. The only thing that is left of you is ashes.

If they took too long to escape the health affects from the toxic gasses released by rocket fuel such as, NO2, HNO3, hydrazines, and other substances would have been destructive towards their health.

5/10 worst way to die

One of Doof’s worst traps if it wasn’t so easy to escape. Try to imagine a laser cutting into you like this, cutting into one organ after the other, slow, searing hot, and also yes, extremely painful. If the pain didn’t kill Perry first through something like cardiac arrest, then multi-organ failure would have.

AND Literally what else was Doof expecting to come home to after the LOVE MUFFIN event??? NOT a dead platypus cut in half??!! What would he even have done with his body after that!??

10/10 worst way to die

This one is just the worst one. Based on the color of this lava, it’s around 1,600 F°!

If the rope didn’t burn through first he would have basically suffocated, seared his lungs to a crisp from the hot air, roasted alive slowly, and burst into flames (Anakin Skylwalkered) but if the rope broke he would probably feel (and not feel) the worst pain imaginable on earth for a good few seconds as all the water in his body would boil, nerves would desintegrate, every single organic molecule in his body would denature, and the lava would wrap around him like grease when you put bacon on a frying pan (that last part might just only apply to rocks though). The bones would burn for the longest, but soon there would be no trace of him left.

It should be noted that lava is a dense liquid and would feel pretty solid unlike water.

Even though he did escape this one, imagine the burns he got and seared lungs. Getting this close to molten lava typically sets people on fire and gives them serious burns. There’s also the toxic gases, heavy metals, and carcinogenic matter he inhaled. Additionally, this lava was bubbling and spraying everywhere. Once a drop of this molten rock like that hits your skin it burns your skin, burns your nerves, cools, and sticks on you. You wouldn’t feel it yet, but how did he hide that stuff when he came home to Phineas And Ferb? Burns can also lead to infections which could be serious and lead to removal of infected areas and amputation or even death,

While the long term health affects he suffered from this experience might not directly lead to his death in the future unless he does get a deadly infection, it could contribute significantly to things like future lung diseases and cancer. There’s also no doubt this experience (mostly from the hot air likely searing his lungs a bit) at least gives him breathing trouble now which would be incredibly depressing.

10/10 worst way to die

Perry didn’t deserve this.

Now, did Doofenshmirtz really have the intention to seriously injure or kill Perry or did he know he’d always escape and wreck his plans? I can’t say for sure, but he survived all of these and he’s also OWCA’s best agent. So, what happens to the lesser skilled agents….?

Perry’s Not The Only One (Tangent):

What percentage of OWCA agents have died in the field of battle with their nemesis and vice versa? We are shown that the one Canadian evil scientist almost died in MML: Agent Lentee Diogee and we know that Agent T (Turkey) was unfortunately killed on Thanksgiving (PNF: The Remains of A Platypus), whether he was mixed up in the turkey harvest process, it was actually because of a scheme unrelated to Thanksgiving, or because his Nemesis did in fact eat him is still unclear.

Also, does the government use animals in OWCA for secret missions because they have advantages humans don’t have or is it really because they’re actually more expendable compared to people. If you think about it, if a human dies because of U.S. government missions, everyone asks questions and there’s a lot of liability, but if a random pigeon or someone’s pet mysteriously goes missing, it’s not national news and no one’s asking the federal government what happened to it. An animal agent is not just a silly cartoon thing, it’s the perfect way to spy, and the US Government has literally tried and used animals as agents before (obviously those ones didn’t have human consciousness like in Phineas And Ferb though since it is a cartoon). They are very expendable and inexpensive.

Back To Doof And Perry:

When did Doof’s traps become more tame? Around the end of season 2 Doofenshmirtz sort of stopped the deadly traps that were designed to kill Perry and mostly focused on traps designed to restrain Perry instead. Sure they still have their laser fights and very dangerous situations and what not (like the Where’s Perry incident), but Doof and Perry are much closer friends now, and we know neither really want the other dead. As Dan Povenmire said, “they really are the most important person in each other’s lives.”

So, when did Doof stop/reduce the death traps? (I use reduce because I checked, but I’m not 100% certain the pnf wiki got every trap)

The last time I remember Doofenshmirtz actually fine with Perry dying was in the Across the 2nd Dimension Movie when he was perfectly okay with Perry being sent to his doom. However, at the end of the film seconds before the 2nd Dimension Doof is about to crush Perry, Phineas, and Ferb, Doofenshmirtz basically saves Perry’s life by stopping 2nd Dimension Doof at the last second and giving him his toy train. (Maybe a little because the horrifying thing 2D Doof did to his Perry too)

Of course he doesn’t remember this because of the Amnesia-inator applied to him and everyone else at the end of the movie, but as we know from the Giant Tire Swing episode when the kids start singing the Summer song from AT2D spontaneously, but cannot recall where it’s from, that memories are still somewhere in the subconscious of these characters.

So, I’d like to think that Doofenshmirtz’s desire to kill Perry sort of faded after actually seeing him come the closest to death he’d ever been in the entire series and while he doesn’t remember it, it’s still there subconsciously.

There’s More:

By the end of the series Doof really isn’t that evil anymore. He’s just a guy pretending to be evil. Perry and Doof are a lot more casual with each other and friendlier, but Doofenshmirtz in The Last Day Of Summer kinda sucks. It’s really the big, real, last push from his evil phase and it shows. He really sucked to both Vanessa and Perry.

In this episode a time looping machine gives Doofenshmirtz multiple tries to finally complete his scheme. In the looping he tries to perfect a trap that can restrain Perry and returns to the type of deadly traps from S1-2, but the mega-trap never overdoes itself and somehow only fails catch Perry, not kill him. Despite every deadly piece and Perry almost getting chopped in half by a bear trap, the mega-trap strangely doesn’t ever kill Perry. It only fails to catch Perry A LOT. This could just be luck and shows that Perry is truly invincible, but since this is later seasons we already know Doof doesn’t want to kill Perry anymore so is it that far off to say that he also didn’t just perfect this trap to not only restrain Perry, but also to not kill him and keep him alive? Does this mean sometimes he could have overdone the trap and there were failed tries to not kill him??

He probably considered that the day repeated so even if he overdid it and killed Perry, the day would restart anyways and he could tone down the part of the trap that killed him, but without the looping he knows the only way to stop Perry is to kill him.

This would be another reason for why he did what he did next.

In one of the final loops when he succeeds with his trap after an unknown amount of tries and finally becomes mayor. The time loop machine also disappears, so he thinks he can no longer loop time now which means no trap will ever be as affective as his time-loop trap and the only affective way to keep Perry from ruining his schemes as he now knows from the time loop, is to kill him. So he uses his new power to legally make it so that Perry can no longer fight him to avoid that entire problem and keep his power, and continue to be evil without hurting him.

It’s somewhat thoughtful that he still doesn’t want Perry dead which is consistent with his character development, but ultimately he chooses evil over his best and only friend and loses him.

Of course we know it works out when he turns good, and he mostly gives up evil after the finale.

This is just another angle to look from when it comes to their relationship.

I don’t know how to end this because that’s about all I’ve got and I have been completely sidetracked from my day to write this and I should probably get back to it. Hopefully this blog makes sense. Feel free to suggest corrections or mistakes or add on any details you’d like to point out.

#perry the platypus #doofenshmirtz #phineas and ferb #blog #essay #pnf #the last day of summer #across the 2nd dimension #Perry and Doof #agent p #Vanessa #owca #theories #headcannons #pnf headcanon

[mothmanperson]

||No more Tea||

??? x gn!reader

tw: /

cw: degrading, crying, sub character, dom reader, kind non consensual kissing, this one is angsty, yandere-themes, (let me know if i missed smth), spicy no smut(i don't feel comfortable writing smut yet)

part three of this(part one) and this(part two)

FEMALE ALIGNED DO NOT INTERACT (SHE/HER, SHE/THEY)

that's it. he thought to himself.

he was getting more and more frustrated with you, every time he went up to you with built up confidence, asking you to do something with him you just denied him, told him off, ignored him, as if you weren't just fooling around with him a few day ago.

and these past few days felt like pure torture since he could only think about the mark you left (that were definitely visible to the other harbingers), the hot aching touches you left and the sharp gaze he still felt, as if ingrained into his mind.

you have been more and more on his mind, taking over his every thought, every decision. he needed you more than anything else he ever thought he needed. and you? you were ignoring him.

you seriously had the audacity to act like that as if you hadn't consumed each others blood and cum.

and honestly he felt offended, embarrassed, and angry most of all. how dare you play with him like that.

this is it. he thought to himself as he marched over to your chamber, he didn't even bother knocking on the door.

he burst through taking a deep breath and preparing to scream and yell at you, get you to apologize, oh how'd he love to see you down on your knees: begging.

it was quiet, your bedroom was empty.

huh? were are you? its way to late for you tobe doing any work- were you on a mission? why hadn't he been informed?

questions rang through his mind as he looked around in your room, taking a few hesitant steps forward. he was never really in your bedroom. only in your office, but the only thing that separated the office from your room was a heavy wooden door.

maybe you were still in your office, even if it was late, harbingers were busy people after all..

the menacing door opened with a bit of struggle, but even the fire place that usually was burning a hot, worm fire was cold, no light shining through the comfortable place you called your office.

(he'd never say it but he appreciates your eye for comfort and decor)

his grip on the doorknob tightened just a bit as he closed the door in a hurry, to many fresh (and certainly hot and not entirely unpleasant) memories resurfaced.

he took a breath walking over to a desk infront of a big window, he couldn't see much outside, it was dark and a storm was raging against the building, the only source of light was the moon and one or another fatui agent cursed to patrol at this time of the day in such a weather. he almost felt bad.

almost.

his eyes fell onto the desk. your desk.

candles, paper and pen, a few unfinished sketches.

thats new, he didn't know you could draw, then again you didn't know anything about each other.

you just knew how to push his buttons. he didn't even know how to do that, again, something that really frustrated him since he praised himself on knowing jow to read people, get under their skin and on their nerves.

but not with you, never with you. you either ignored him or lazily waved him off.

everything you did just offended him, he realized in a second.

"well look who came crawling back"

lost in thought he didn't noticed someone coming into the room.

what a pathetic mistake.

his back crawls and a shiver went down his spine when he felt you cold breath on his neck.

"what are you doing here?" you asked. it was a genuine question at first, but your mind quickly wandered and you had a rising suspicion why he visited you at this time.

he bit his lip and clenched his eyes shut. what was he doing here again?

you came closer, his small back pressed against your bigger chest, and his clenching ass against your hips.

your hand gripped the table right besides his small body, your head right besides his. he felt your cold breath against his ears now.

he shivered, clenching his hands into fists he tried to collect his thoughts.

right. he wanted to blow up into your face.

"what are you doing to me?" he asked with all his might.

"mh?" you raised an eyebrow in question.

"why are you- ignoring me? you do all- all this to me and then dare to pretend not to notice me these past few days? am i- am i just a- a toy for you? i don't want you to play with me you-" he snapped, and raised his voice, gritting his teeth.

"wait you thought we- we had something? hah- you thought we-? oh archons- you thought i fancied you? that i did all that because i liked you?" you laughed into his ear, your arms finally encasing them in a deathly possessive brace as you put your lips against the scorching hot skin of his neck.

"darling no, even though i have to admit that your to pretty when you're looking all fucked out like that, and i'd rather not anyone else see you like that. i don't feel anything for you. i like the idea of you, and your body but nothing else" you smiled against his neck, planting a soft kiss.

"then why are you-"

"because I don't want you to be with someone else, it should always only be me- don't you get it? you are such a price to me- and only for me- no- no one else will ever get to have you, understand? you probably don't, a shame" you grinned menacingly as he turned his head to look at you, in shock and disbelief at his foolishness to think that anyone could ever love him.

but... at least you liked his body? he thought as he looked at your dead eyes with tears threatening to fall.

"are you going to cry now? show me your adorable red face as you try and hit me? scream at me? what will your pathetic self do, mh?" you asked as you tilted his chin up with your gloved hand. your lips were millimeters away from his.

he couldn't answer, he didn't trust his voice to carry on this conversation while you were looking at him like that.

"oh so you'll stay quiet? well fine, you'll have nothing against me doing this then right?"

you leaned in, feverishly claiming his lips, he parted his as if he was trained for it. he let you do whatever you wanted. he was fine with whatever you'd do.

you may not love him, but you liked his body, and he loved your attention to much to turn down this opportunity.

the more he thought about it, the more he favoured the thought of being at least a toy for you.

you shoved your tongue into his mouth and he moaned in delight, past anger completely forgotten already.

you hands sneaked their way under his thin shirt and caressed his hot skin, drawing circles and other patterns up his skin until they reach his sensitive pectorals.

you squeezed and played with them as you pleased, and he became more and more of a mess, his breathing and heart beat picked up and he kept moaning and whimpering as you purposely avoided his perky nipples.

he had to stabilize himself gripping the edge of the table infront of him, his knuckles turning white.

you were afraid he'd break it.

he broke the kiss and you took a look at him. his lips were red and swollen, covered in saliva, just slightly opened. his eyes were half-lidded and blinded with pure lust.

"please-"

"so needy already? do you want me to spoil you? do you want your master to take care of you?" your asked in false caring.

he quickly nodded desperately chasing after your lips but you pulled away.

"oh no how unfortunate then, take care of it yourself you slut- you can do that for me right?" you stepped away from him.

you had to be kidding, was this some kind of cruel joke?

"w-what? you- you can't just leave me here?! like- like this?" he shrieked out

"and why is that?"

"you- you just can't- just be- because i-"

"you what, mh?"

"i need you so fucking bad" he whispered out, yet he sounded so fucking desperate and pathetic.

you loved it.

you wanted more.

you needed more, and you'll get more.

you will make sure of it.

"then get on your knees and beg for it you pathetic little slut"

#gn reader #i’m beggin y’all #genshin impact #someone help #gender neutral reader #fatui x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #sub scaramouche #sub genshin #sub childe #sub dottore #scaramouche #ill dottore #childe tartaglia ajax #genshin harbingers #fatui harbingers #dom reader #harbinger reader #mean reader #tag: degrading #my back is fucking killing me #pls help

[ashlayan]

Overworked

I'm late but happy bday Horropedia 🥺🫶🏻

Tw: SFW, written with a fem reader in mind, a smol amount of angst followed by much fluff.

Pairing: Horropedia (Joshua) x reader.

May this year witness the freedom of Palestine 🇵🇸🇵🇸

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Work in the Foundation was usually fine, the fact you were a Supervising Field Agent usually meant you got assigned, well, interesting field work. But sometimes the higher ups would demand evidence to backup your mission report "Claims", be it for a trial, or an open investigation, and you would need to spend all nighters sifting through both your and your subordinates' files, as well as archived news articles, archived books, archived tapes, or really anything that could be of use.

To say all that left you mentally exhausted would be an understatement.

More than anything, it makes you yearn to finish up work quickly and go home for a hot bath and indulge in your guilty pleasure: Romance Stories.

You're pretty sure anyone of your colleagues hearing about that hobby would be more likely to think they're being pranked than actually believe it.

You, who worked hard and rose quickly within the ranks of the foundation, despite your young age.

You, who thanks to your constant networking and relentless hard work, was the youngest to be awarded with the title of Field Supervisor, bar Vertin of course as she's the Timekeeper.

Exactly why, when asked, you would usually give the far more acceptable "Tennis" as an answer. Really at this point only very few people have any clue about your obsession, and only because they were your classmates back in your more innocent and naive school days. People like this fool who came unannounced, sitting uninvited on your office couch, thoroughly distracting you from your urgent task.

"And then, we're thinking the main character would be revealed to have actually been the real villain all along! Like the serial killer will still remain a separate person, but the way Blonney's thinking of doing it is making Jessica turn out to be even more terrifying!! We'll drop hints throughout the film and-"

And so he goes, on and on. He even stands up and starts pacing as he bothers you further.

You want to groan. This annoying, silly, helpless, cute, sweet, adorkable fool.

"Aren't you supposed to be grounded?" You say deadpan, "What are you even doing here?"

Horropedia stops and turns, facing you properly, "So you can talk!" He practically cries out with mock shock, his face a mask of "disbelief". "Here I thought you'd gone mute, turns out you were just ignoring me." He says as he walks over and plops down on a chair facing your desk.

You roll your eyes refusing to play along. "Some of us have work to get done, Joshua. We're not children anymore, it's high time you start acting like an adult and quit those silly, childish stories."

"Oh?" He says smugly, but you can tell you've definitely hit a nerve by calling him Joshua instead of his preferred nickname. He then proceeds to take a long look around your office, craning his neck this way and that.

You're not sure what he's planning but it can't be anything good.

"Bingo." He says just under his breath as he stands back up and heads for the cupboard you use as a make shift file cabinet. You tense slightly but remind yourself to keep a cool and aloof facade.

He places one hand against a compartment's door and asks: "So then, there isn't a hidden stash of silly, childish romance novels right in here?" He asks, tapping a finger against it.

Go big or go home. "Please, I outgrew that nonsensical hobby ages ago, do you honestly think I have the time to-"

Horropedia then grabs the door handle without permission and proceeds to yank it open-

Or he would have if the door wasn't locked shut. It doesn't even budge.

You smile smugly. "Did no one teach you going through people's belongings is bad manners?"

"Coming from the person who used to steal from my candy stash? I don't wanna hear it." He says dismissively, now focused on intently staring down your cupboard's lock.

You blush, because he's bringing back embarrassing childhood memories of your's, definitely not because he looks really hot when he stops being a lovable goof, or because of the way the light hits his side profile just right and he looks so serious in a rare picturesque way-

You snap yourself out of your reverie just as he brings something out of his utility belt, you blanch when you realize what it is.

"Seriously? Lockpicks? Who goes around carrying those?! Wait- is that how you got out of confinement?!"

Horropedia ignores you and gets immediately to work.

You spring up and rush towards him, only to arrive a second too late as he opens the cupboard with a dramatic flourish, revealing far too many books with cutesy artworks for covers, some with even more tantalizing titles. In fact, their were so many that they proceeded to slide down and out of the compartment, forming a sizeable pile on the floor.

Your stash now exposed, you do the next best thing and head straight for the open office door instead to shut it. This however is far from ideal.

You turn around slowly and as expected, the dork is giving you and adora- Infuriating smirk.

"How. How did you know they were in there-"

"Relax Short-Stuff, I just know you too well." He says, almost preening with pride at his "accomplishment".

You frown, "Don't call me that."

"Don't call me Joshua." He fires back.

You don't reply, and instead take a silent step towards him, then another.

Alarm starts bleeding into his expression, as he himself takes a step back while throwing a glance at the closed door behind you, no doubt gauging the distance in case you decide to attack.

Instead you ignore him and bend down to start gathering your precious but embarrassing treasures.

"What was that about knowing me so well?" You say offhandedly.

"Well- you used to tackle people who pissed you off so- I mean- Forget it."

Now with you both feeling defeated, he bends down to help you gather the books and says: "When do you even find time to read all of these? Everytime I see you you're either writing a report, heading to a mission or coming back from one."

"The car rides are usually pretty quiet, I can read them in peace as long as I hide the covers." You say without looking up.

After a moment of Horropedia not saying anything back or moving to help you, you look up.

"What?" You snap. You know that look, he's judging you. "If you have something to say say it."

"No, no, it's not like that I just... Do you ever get any rest? I'm pretty sure you even work weekends, and I heard you do volunteer work too. This isn't healthy is all I'm thinking."

You blink. Well yes, he does have a compassionate and sweet side too, it's usually hidden by his general tomfoolery though so you tend to forget about it. You also didn't expect him to be keeping an ear out for news about you, it's not like the two of you chat all that often either. You're caught sufficiently off guard that you now have your mouth hanging slightly open with no sounds coming out.

"Earth to (Y/N), you there?" He snaps his fingers a couple of times, and when you're still silent he sighs and continues gathering your babies- your books, and springs back up to stuff them in your cupboard, then dusts his hands off.

You're looking up at his standing form and damn, he actually looks really good from this angle, really accentuates his already impressive height-

This time he forgoes trying to talk to you and just grabs your from the waist and lifts you back to your feet, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder for good measure before letting you go.

Then he seems to think something over and places a hand on your forehead.

"You're not running a fever, but your zoning out is really out of character for ya. Good thing it's 6 already, you can clock out now." He says with a gentle smile.

The smile isn't exactly rare for him, but it also isn't something he usually gives you.

Ever since you set your sights on climbing the corporate ladder... You have been pushing everyone away, even those most precious to you. You've been taking on more and more, piling the tasks and duties up to the point where, sometimes, you just want to do something crazy and impulsive, to get the load off your shoulders even for a short while.

He's still gazing at you, but his smile is wavering. He's still waiting for an answer though.

You consider what would happen if you say yes to clocking out now, if you even gather some additional courage and ask him to hang out? As friends of course! For old times sake! But then again, if you're already that far, what if you ask him out for real? Maybe just for today, you can ignore the far too many responsibilities piled high on top of you and just-

You shake your head. "No sorry, I'm actually spending the night here, I have a lot of work to get done. I know you want to leave though, so you go on ahead, don't worry I won't rat you out so no one should come to drag you back to the school." You say with a chuckle, and wait for him to get going.

But he doesn't move. You can't read his expression, and the way the light hits his glasses isn't helping. Finally what he says is: "I guess you haven't changed that much after all."

Saying you're bewildered would be an understatement. "Huh?"

He loudly sighs, throwing his head back for added effect as he massages the bridge of his nose.

When he's looking back at you his glasses are now sitting crookedly on the space and you have to hold back the urge to reach up and fix them.

Two hands are now on your shoulders, as if to stop you from escaping the truth. "Listen." He says very seriously, all traces of his usually cheery voice gone. "I'm going to say this as plainly as possible. You're working yourself to the bone. I get it, you have some bigger picture in mind, some larger goal that I probably can't see and you're throwing everything trying to reach it but consider this. Maybe it's just not worth it. Not if you'll die long before you get to it within whatever crazy time limit you've set for yourself. Come on (Y/N), you're a field agent for God's sake, how lame would it be if you bite the dust from overworking on reports?!"

He's panting slightly, that speech was clearly coming from the heart and you really appreciate it, you really do, but ever since he first came in today you've had a nagging suspicion you've been trying to stamp down, but it was time to address the elephant in the room.

"Joshua. Why do you care so much? Because honestly the way you're talking right now..." You take a deep breath, "The way you sought me out today, the way you say all of this... I don't want to sound arrogant, but am I correct to assume that- that-"

You can't do this, if you're wrong what's left of your already dwindling friendship with him might be the price.

You back away from him. "I'm sorry never mind, forget I said anything, I'll keep your advice in mind so please just-" just go! I don't want you here when I cry!

But he must see something on your face because he's pulling you in for a hug. It feels so familiar so right that you can't help but melt into it. The exhaustion finally seems to catch up to you and you can't imagine having to trek the walk back to the dorms, much less get any more work done tonight.

You almost miss it, but you just barely make out the words "Yes, you are correct."

And that wakes you right back up.

You push back and straighten up, and he's immediately startling with you. "W-what?" He asks, looking absolutely adorable. This time, you do reach over and right his glasses.

"What did you just say? You whispered something just now, did I hear it right?" You stare at him intently, your gaze unwavering and determined.

He looks to the side, "Don't look at me like thaaaat." He quite literally whines.

"Like what?" You ask, finding yourself genuinely curious as to what he sees in your expression.

He looks back, "Like I'm one of your high priority missions. Don't give me hope if you don't mean it (Y/N)."

You're tired from a long, mentally exhausting day. Your brain to mouth filter is gone, but then again it usually is around Horropedia. You are not thinking straight but you kinda never are around this man.

You grab his necktie and snatch it down, dragging him with it. Your lips are on his in a second, he's reciprocating (thank goodness) the kiss in the next.

When the two of you break it off for air he has the widest grin he has ever given you. No not ever, but in a long time. The intense nostalgia is the last addition to the melange of feelings churning inside of you and the tears finally fall freely.

Predictably, Horropedia panics.

"I'M SO SORRY?! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT I'M SORRY?!?! WAS IT THE KISS? IT WAS THE KISS WASN'T IT-"

You quickly cover his mouth before he broadcasts any more private information to the whole office floor.

"Shhhh! Calm down! I just... I just needed a good cry I guess..." You end meekly, wiping your tears away.

Horropedia stares at you wide eyed. In another situation this would be the perfect teasing material, (Y/N) actually knows how to cry?! Or something along those lines, but evidently even he has better sense than to do that, so he instead silently hugs you again, and doesn't tighten his hold until you hug him back.

You could stay in his arms forever, which sounds cliche but isn't that amazing? That you could get to think of something so silly and cliche instead of the probability of success of your next mission strategy? You take a small step back without letting go, just to look at the wall clock and debate what to do next. You can tell Horropedia is eagerly waiting for your decision with bated breath. Finally you pull yourself out of the hug.

Only to grab your purse and keys, then quickly come back to his side.

"Alright. You win, what's the plan now?" You ask, twisting a scarf high around your neck to hide your excitement.

He frowns slightly, and hesitantly asks. "Do you still suffer from insomnia?"

Of course he remembers. "It's better now but yes." Is your answer.

"Then we go on the most anti-insomnia date to help you sleep!" He announces, opening the door for you.

You chuckle and head out, waiting for him to follow so you can lock your office.

"And where are we going?" You fiddle with your keys, slipping one in the lock.

"To your dorm room?" He asks more then answers.

You freeze. "Moving a little fast there don't you think?" You turn to face him.

He flushes bright red. "Noooo!! I knew you would misunderstand!!! I meant because your bed is there and you could go straight to sleep once you feel like it!!!"

You giggle. "Oh I know, just teasing." You say wiggling your eyebrows.

He gasps "You! I! Why you! Hmph!" He turns and walks on ahead, but there's a spring in his step and he's headed towards your dorm, so you know he's not actually mad. You jog to catch up to him.

"Geez Joshua, not all of us have long legs wait up!"

And he does slow down, but he also throws you a question. "Why do you keep calling me Joshua? At first I thought it was to annoy me, but that can't be right. So what's your reason?"

You consider this carefully. After everything that just happened, admitting this truth hardly feels like such a hard challenge. You talk as you walk.

"More than one reason I guess... For starters it's what I've always known you as... Despite what I said before, you actually have changed in a lot of ways, heck you used to be shorter than me." You laugh a bit, "The name feels like all I have left from back then." You say with a sigh.

He keeps silent, probably guessing there's more, so you continue, "Also... Well, this is a bit embarrassing but everyone calls you Horropedia... I guess I kinda felt special by being the only one calling you Joshua. It's silly I know."

Horropedia stops walking and grabs your hand, halting you too. He's silent for a moment before he croaks out, voice clearly emotional "You can call me whatever you want." Then he goes back to walking while still holding onto your hand, pulling you along. And that's that.

He walks you all the way to your dorm room then stops.

"You're not coming in? You didn't change your mind already did you?" You ask half jokingly but also kinda worried.

"Nope! I'll go bring my tv and some supplies, I'll be back in an hour or so, that way you'll have time to freshen up and maybe relax for a bit?" He says with a small smile, and ruffles your hair lightly.

You blink, then processing the first part of his sentence you ask: "Why are you bringing your TV? I have a TV."

"You do?" He sounds surprised.

"Of course, how else would I be able to play my romance film tapes?"

His mouth forms an "o" shape. "That actually makes sense, I don't know why I didn't think of that. Well there's still other stuff to be brought but this definitely helps save time, alright see you soon." He gives you a quick hug before parting ways.

Now home, you proceed to tidy up the dorm room and hop in the shower, then get dressed in a comfortable but cute outfit and style your hair into something more relaxed and comfy.

You head to your wardrobe and start opening the large bottom drawers you use to store blankets and pillows, and start constructing a pillow fort on the rug, facing the television.

It's not long until you hear a knock at your door, and with less restraint then you would usually allow, you rush towards it and swing it wide open to reveal a-

A pile of shopping bags and a plushie?

"A lil help here? Actually can you let me in?" You hear Horropedia's voice as he tries to right one of the bags sliding down with his knee.

"Ohhhh!" You intone, mesmerized, "A talking pile of bags and a plushie!"

"Haha, very funny." Horropedia's head pops up and despite his words he's definitely amused.

You quickly begin grabbing the bags closest to you and realize they're pretty much all filled with snacks and fizzy drinks... All of which you know for sure are nothing like those issued by the foundation.

"Where did you even get these?" You ask, as the both of you drag the bags inside. From the corner of your eyes you notice him taking extra care not to drop the relatively large plushie.

"Oh you know, I have my ways~" He replies, going for a mysterious tone.

Do his "ways" include Vertin's suitcase? Probably. But you don't say anything, let him have his moment.

When everything is set up nicely around your pillow fort, you turn to ask him what you're watching when you find him on one knee, dramatically presenting you with the stuffed toy.

"Will you do me the great honor, of accepting my humble offering?" He asks solemnly.

You burst out laughing "Wha- what are you doing..?" You wheeze.

You bend down to grab the plushie and admire it, it's a nice medium size, aka the perfect hugging size.

"I thought you might need a little friend to keep you company as we watch-" He takes out a film tape with a flourish "This movie!"

You blanch. "Is this one of your horror films? Are you serious? I thought we were trying to put me to sleep not keep me up all night." You say with an exasperated shake of your head.

"No no listen, you're used to romance movies, they're no good to help you sleep anymore or they would've worked by now right? Maybe what you need is something to wring out all the nervous energy from you so you can relax!"

Somehow that both makes some sense and no sense at once. But then you have a realization.

You pretend to think it over. "I don't know, even if what you say could hypothetically work, and while your gift is cute, I just don't feel like it's huggable enough, you know?"

His face falls slightly. "Oh? You don't like it do you? I knew I should've brought a bigger one-"

"No, what I'm saying is, it's not the same as cuddling with a warm human being."

You wait for the mostly genius yet sometimes dumb dumb young man in front of you to connect the dots. You can tell he did when his face is the shade of a ripe strawberry.

"OH! Ohhhh!! Oh. Yeah, yeah we can definitely uh- cuddle. As much as you want. Of course."

You laugh "Dude we were just hugging and kissing in my office! Why are you getting all shy on me now?" You tug him along by the arm to set up the film.

"I knoooow," he whines, "it's just this is a step further ok? And that was an I'm-really-worried-about-her hug, and the kiss was a very emotional moment my brain just wasn't braining!"

"Whatever you say." You reply as you poke his right cheek. "You're cute though so it's fine." You giggle.

You wait for him to berate you about calling him, the horror genre enthusiast and connoisseur "cute", but all he does is stare at you with a dopey smile, just making you melt.

"Are you sure we can't just watch a romance movie?" You ask softly.

"Nah, we're being our own romance movie right now." He says as he grabs your hand and hoists you up with him, leading you back to the pillow fort. "You'll pick the movie next time."

The screen turns on, displaying the title of the horror movie you settled on. “It’s a classic!” Horropedia says, clearly excited to share the movie with you.

As you both sink into the pillows, the opening title sequence of the film begins playing.

As the horror style music plays, you notice Horropedia lean in his body closer to yours, careful to not make it seem like he was trying to get nearer.

"You can come closer I don't bite," you say jokingly, "and if I was uncomfortable with having you here I wouldn't have mentioned cuddling in the first place."

Horropedia's face turns fully red as he realizes he was not being subtle.

"Yeah... sorry."

His body shifts, and he slides one arm around your shoulders. He then speaks, barely above a whisper, "Can I get a hug now...?"

"I didn't know you were the clingy type Joshua," you start to tease, "and before even the first jumpscare hap-" but you immediately get interrupted by a joke jumpscare, a character that is not the antagonist innocently scaring their friends as a prank, yet embarrassingly managing to startle you "Eeep-" your hands instinctively grab onto the nearest object, which of course has to be his torso.

Oh dear lord. You sigh internally.

You look up at his face, finding he at least has the decency to try and stifle his laughter, though he wasn't succeeding much. But his droopy eyes were crinkling at the sides, and his smile was just too beautiful so you couldn't get mad.

Horropedia chuckles at your expression, probably finding the irony amusing, and the fact it was a fake jumpscare that did you in.

He then quickly pulls you closer to give you that hug you were just teasing him about not a moment ago.

You feel your head lean against his shoulder as he pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you as you both settle further into your cozy pillow fort setup.

"This doesn't count you hear? I wasn't scared or anything, I'm just a bit jumpy." You say, trying to preserve your dignity. The last thing you need is the no.1 horror enthusiast to misunderstand and think you're a scaredy cat, you would never hear the end of the teasing.

You could feel his chest vibrating with laughter underneath you, and he reaches up with the opposite hand and ruffles your hair.

"Uh-huh." Is all he says.

~~~~~~

By the time the movie ends, you're already sound asleep. Horropedia carefully untangles your limbs and carries you off to bed. The day did not go as he'd expected, he'd go as far to say it went more like his fantasies then actual reality.

He tucks you in carefully, being mindful to jostle you as little as possible. He's fairly certain if you go on a second date (you probably will right? This date went great right?!?!) you won't settle for anything other than one of your romance movies.

Not that he minds, really. After today he doesn't think he'll be looking at the characters on the screen with jealousy or disgruntlement. He also thinks he'll enjoy whatever you pick.

He glances at your alarm clock. Oh it was late. He'd better get moving, while he has more freedom under Vertin's supervision now he still shouldn't push his luck. He decides he'll tell you tomorrow about his new, more flexible work arrangement.

He heads for the dorm room entrance, opening and closing the door softly behind him. His last thought before leaving is he'll have to ask what you thought of his movie pick tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the river to the sea PALESTINE WILL BE FREE ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸.

If you pray, please pray for Gaza and the Westbank 🙏🏻🙏🏻

#r1999 #reverse 1999 #gacha games #fanfic #horropedia #joshua #horropedia x reader #Horropedia x y/n #Horropedia x You

[testingthewatersss]

Halloween Bucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 5000 words fluff, mild angst, comfort, very light-hearted and mild smut. 18+ MDNI Reader is Tony's sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who reappeared after TWS. The halloween party turns out much better than expected.

It’s Halloween.

Well, it’s the night before Halloween, but it’s also a Saturday. It’s the Saturday before Halloween, which means a party. 

A Stark party. 

This, of course, means that every single person who lives in Avengers Tower is expected to attend. 

Including Bucky.

She had told him that his attendance was not mandatory. Tony had mirrored the sentiment with less interest, too. So he probably could’ve gotten out of the whole affair, had it not been for Steve’s excitement. 

His clear, untempered excitement at the mere prospect of attending a party with his best friend. 

“It’ll be just like the good old days, Buck! Except you’ll only have one dame on your arm this time- I’d hate to see Y/N's face if you asked her to bring a friend for me”

He hadn’t had the heart to tell him that he really, really didn’t want to go.

The idea of a bustling party, full of strangers and loud music doesn’t sound fun to him anymore.

No, now it fills him with dread. Dread that’s only worsened by the addition of the ‘costume required’ rule, and his inability to get drunk along with the rest of the crowd. 

So, he’d nodded along, intending to address his concerns later. 

Maybe offering Steve a night out together instead. Just the two of them. That’d be much more akin to the ‘good old days’ anyway. It’s not like lavish billionaire parties were the kind of things they were doing together before the war. 

Even if he’s been dating one of said billionaires for over a year. 

Y/N is probably the main reason that conversation never happened with Steve. If she hadn’t been going there would’ve been no way in hell that Bucky would’ve even entertained the idea of going himself. 

But she is going. And the idea of a night without her is almost worse than the idea of the party. 

So now, it’s too late to back out. 

He’s dressed up like James Dean because out of all the ideas that had been thrown around, it was the outfit that seemed the least intrusive. It’s basically a leather jacket and some hair gel. Tony had scoffed at the concept, making a ‘Tin-man and Dorothy’ suggestion that had earned a scolding from Y/N, who had beamed at the idea and agreed to go as Audrey Hepburn to complete the look. 

He hasn’t seen her all day. 

He misses her, and it shows. 

Steve is at his side, dressed in an ornate ‘Count Dracula’ ensemble which, paired with the black spray he’s put in his hair looks awful. 

The fake fangs are funny, though. And his excitement had been infectious. The playful chattering and obvious glee had been hard to ignore all day, so, he hadn’t tried. He’d let himself get swept up in the atmosphere;

“She’s running late” Natasha announces, rounding a corner dressed as Marylin Monroe, “apparently there was a change of plan”

“What kind of change?” Steve asks before Bucky can— 

“She lost a bet” Bruce says, also coming into view. 

His costume idea is good. 

He’s dressed as Tony, complete with a fake arc reactor and drawn-on facial hair. 

If Bucky had a better relationship with the man he might’ve considered that one for himself.

“With who?” he presses, curiously spiking;

“Who do you think?” Tony answers gleefully, “You’re goin’ to love this”

He’s addressing Natasha when he says that, which he thinks is strange. But, Bucky purses his lips in silent consideration.

What kind of bet? he thinks, And why is Natasha going to like it?

A few more minutes pass in the same kind of ‘excited haze’.

Everyone is talking and most of them are drinking, glasses clinking in toasts. Steve has a beer in his hand, but Bucky knows that it’s empty now.  

His own is almost drained, too. The taste is familiar and comforting, even if it’s not doing what it used to in regards to calming his nerves.

His nerves are getting more and more frayed with every passing second that she doesn’t arrive. 

Everyone else is accounted for. 

Steve, and Tony. Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Rhodey, Sam, Wanda and Vision- all present, all wearing their outfits. 

God, even Happy has arrived, wearing his usual suit, but with the addition of sunglasses which he says make him a ‘man in black’.

Bucky thinks he looks a bit like a HYDRA officer who he worked for, once. He decides not to mention it.

“Come on, princess!” Rhodey yells, in the general direction of the stairs- “I’m sure your hair looks fine!”

He’s dressed as Fury. It’s funny, but, when no reply comes to his shouting, Bucky can’t help but frown. 

Tony, however, snorts out a laugh that makes all eyes snap at him. 

“What did you bet, anyway?” Steve asks

“That my new gamma-wave equation was compatible with her old nuero-partical theory-” he answers, “-She said it wouldn’t be because she didn’t believe I’d read her paper.”

“I meant what were the stakes” 

“Oh” Tony chuckles, knowing that only Bruce would’ve understood the concept of the dispute anyway, “If she won, I was going to have to cover the internship paperwork for the rest of the year—“

“—And if you won?” Natasha cuts in, suspicious. 

“He got to change my costume for tonight” Y/N's voice answers, from out of view.

Any relief that Bucky expected to garner from hearing her voice is dampened by how sullen she sounds. 

It doesn’t suit the usual lilt of her voice. 

It worries him. He feels both of his hands tightening into fists and is suddenly grateful for how he’d placed his beer bottle on the side. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Tony commands, instantly animated, “Back up stairs! FRIDAY- Que the music!”

“Tony!” Y/N objects, tone slipping towards pleading, “Ple-”

Her “please” is drowned out by the loud start of a song. 

A familiar song. 

Steve recognises it first. His eyes widening as every single person that has gathered in the common room moves, all adjusting their positions so that they have a clear view of the stairs.

Bucky is no different. 

He walks a little too fast, the vibration from the speakers filling him with urgency. 

‘Star spangled man, with a plan'

The tune builds, and then he feels his face click with remembrance;

It was the song they used to parade Steve around too. With a haram of women in short skirts-

“I’m going to kill you,” she says, louder than the music, “Tony, I swear to god—”

‘and I tell you there’s no substitute— the Star, Spangled, Man, with a plan’

and then, the venom in her voice makes sense. 

As she appears at the top of the staircase, almost unrecognisable, Bucky thinks it makes perfect sense.

So does her brother's untempered laughter, and the way that he’s snapping pictures on his cell phone. 

Her usually brown hair is blonde. Shoulder length in soft waves, her lips are painted bright, apple red, which, hair colour aside isn’t too abnormal for her, but-

God, she’s… she’s dressed like Steve.

She’s wearing the full Captain America suit, skin tight and colourful with the shield slung over one of her shoulders. 

As she starts to walk down towards the crowd, Bucky realises that his jaw is hanging open, so he snaps it shut. 

“Give us a smile, Cap!” Tony gears, cell phone aimed at his sister's face, “and maybe a salute”

“I will break your fucking jaw-” she threatens.

“Language” Natasha scolds, failing to conceal her grin;

Y/N's head snaps towards her friend, and then, she moves her hand, flipping her the bird before turning to glare at her brother again. 

“Can I at least lose this wig?”

“No” Tony answers quickly, “No, I think it really ties it all together”

“You’re an asshole” she hisses, “You’re not even wearing a costume”

“Yes I am” he retorts, almost offended, “I’m dad!”

“You’re who?!” she splutters, totally taken aback, “You- You’re going as dad?!”

“Yes” Tony replies with a smirk, ”but, young dad, y’know- not-”

“You haven’t even shaved” she says, pointing at his face, “He had a moustache- not a goatie”

“I couldn’t find a razor” he lies, not even trying to hide his glee, “and all I needed to finish the look was-”

“Son of a bitch” Y/N curses, realisation setting in, “you made me wear this so I could be your accessory?”

and then a ripple of laughter washes over everyone. 

Everyone except for Y/N, and Bucky, who is still staring at her, awestruck. 

“You’re a jerk,” she says when everything settles;

“That’s more like it” Tony says, “throw in a couple of ‘sons’, maybe a self-richeous speech about justice here and there-“

“Hey” Steve objects, suddenly realising that at least part of this might be at his expense, 

Tony beams again, excitement unwavering under his sister's glare.

and then there’s silence. 

The sibling's dynamic is strange at the best of times, and in situations like this, the entire mood of the evening is going to be decided by how well either party decides that they can take a joke. 

“Just wait until next year” Y/N sighs at last, “I’ll get you for this- I swear”

“I bet you will” Tony agrees, looking falsely contrite, “But for tonight-”

“I’m your star-spangled man with a plan,” she says, defeated.

He bursts out a “ha!” and turns to celebrate his victory with Rhodey and the others. 

 Y/N takes the moment of reprieve to finally meet Bucky’s gaze. She takes a few steps towards him, before smiling in acknowledgement of Steve, too. 

“Sorry about leavin’ you in the lurch with the outfit,” she says, “at least you’re basically just dressed as yourself.”

Steve chuckles at her, even though she’d been talking to Bucky, and then he comments on her hair. 

“It’s a wig,” she says off-handedly, “What’s in yours anyway? Shoe polish?”

That makes Bucky laugh for the first time that evening. 

A real, true laugh. 

He’s not even sure why. The jibe hadn’t been that funny. Not really. But he’s giddy with relief that she’s okay. That she’s safe and finally here, and her outfit is… ridiculous, he knows it is, but he can’t help but find himself captivated by it all the same. 

Y/N beams in response to his outburst regardless. Smiling at him with her with her painted lips like he’s the best thing in the world.

That’s how she always looks at him. It’s so familiar that he can almost ignore the costume. 

“It’s not your shield,” she tells Steve, “Or your suit, don’t worry”

“I wasn’t worried” Steve replies, “I was wondering how it fit you so well”

Bucky laughs again, and this time he realises that both of them are grinning at him. 

“You look great, doll” he says when he catches his breath, “I’ve never really been into blondes but I think you pull it off”

“I can’t wait to pull it off-” she mutters, tugging at the fake hair with dismay, “-but, thank you.”

And then, everyone’s moving. 

The room is a blur of motion. Everyone is abandoning bottles and cans and glasses and heading towards the elevators. 

And Bucky is holding Y/N's hand while he lets Rodgers knock against his shoulder and make jokes about candy. 

They have to split into groups for the cars. 

Y/N and Tony have to go together with Happy, so, with a pout and a kiss on his cheek, she leaves Bucky with Steve and Sam. 

Wilson teases him a little about how love-sick he is, but Steve doesn’t let the ribbing go on for too long before he silences him with a fatherly glare that makes him the target of the jokes. 

Bucky doesn’t have to come to his rescue because their car pulls up just after the Starks have left. 

He hates being driven around. 

The feeling of being forced to be still in the back of a moving vehicle is unpleasant. But not unfamiliar.

Steve is too polite to comment on the way that his flesh knuckles turn white as he makes a tight fist on his lap. Or, how on the way he flinches, hard, when they stop at red lights.

“Easy” Sam chides, ignorant of the reason behind the response, “we’re in an armoured car- relax a little”

“I think Tony called it luxury” Steve cuts in, trying to be supportive and change the subject, “but he’s right, Buck- Everything’s fine- 

“Luxury or not” the other man replies, “We’re still in the billionaire equivalent of an armoured tank—”

“Yeah?” Bucky gristles, tired of the patronising tone, “So was Howard Stark” 

His remark sours the atmosphere instantly. 

Steve goes to put a hand on his knee but he jerks it free before he really makes contact. 

Sam just falls into an awkward silence that Bucky thinks is much more tolerable than his attempt at conversation. 

They arrive exactly seven minutes later. 

He knows because he’s been counting. 

Y/N had taught him to do that. When they’d been talking about ‘coping techniques’ he’d scoffed at the usual suggestion of deep breathing. 

“Deep breathing doesn’t help when you feel like you’re somewhere you can’t catch your breath, doll”

“No” she’d agreed, patient as always, “No, I don’t suppose it does.”

She wasn’t the first person to talk to him about ways that might help him feel better. She was probably the first person to listen to him, though;

“What did you used to do when you really couldn’t?” 

He stared at her blankly for a few seconds before she’d taken pity on him and smiled. 

“When you couldn’t catch your breath.” 

Oh-

“You mean…” he’d gulped, “You mean when I was there?”

“mhmm”

“Whatever I was told” 

That was the first time he’d been really honest with someone who’d tried to ask him about that. The answer had slipped out before he’d had a chance to think about it, but when he’d had a moment or two to process what he’d just admitted, he’d been so embarrassed that Y/N's palm on his cheek had jarred him. 

Jarred him so much that he’d jolted in place, the panic that they’d been previously discussing flaring in an embarrassing display. 

“..Okay…” Y/N had exhaled, “… you’re okay…”

A jerky nod hadn’t reassured her much, but it’d been all he could offer her at the time. 

“What are you doin’ right now, huh? Nobodies telling you what to do now.”

“I-“ he’d stammered, suddenly unsure, “-I’m counting”

“Counting?” she’d pressed, curious “Alright… Let me know how high you get”

And then he’d been crying. He’d broken down and sobbed into her shoulder until his chest had stopped racing. 

Then, he’d been able to explain, very shakily, about how sometimes they’d kept him masked for so long that arbitrarily counting in his head had been his only way of not losing whatever scrap of sanity he’d had left.

He could always count. 

No matter what terrible thing was happening to him. No matter what heinous thing he was being made to do to someone else. 

He could manage counting. 

“So” she’d whispered, stroking his hair back, “That’s what you do… You count.”

and he still counts. 

and, because he’s been doing it for so long, he’s quite good at matching his silent clock to actual seconds. 

and, by the time they’re all exiting the car, it’s only been another 20.

The atmosphere is still awkward. Even with the removal of the car from the equation. 

“You okay, Buck?”

It’s Steve asking. Concerned, now. 

He feels a sharp stab of guilt when he blinks his eyes over to him and sees that it’s genuine. That the playful, childish excitement from before is gone, replaced by fatherly worry.

“I’m fine, Stevie” he replies, deliberately making his tone light-

When he sees that he’s not buying it, Bucky smiles. 

“I’m not a good passenger” he allows, “but I’m fine.”

That seems to work a little. The honesty does, anyway. 

“Look” Bucky sighs, placing his flesh hand precisely on his shoulder, “This is all a little hard on me…even the car rides-”

“-You’re doin’ awesome, Buck-”

“-Give it a rest” he chuckles, jostling him a little, “I’m workin’ on some stuff, don’t worry about me.”

The latter part is what sticks with Steve. 

He looks directly at his old friend, reading his face for a full 4 seconds before nodding in agreement. 

“I can’t take you seriously with that hair,” Bucky says, breaking the tension as they head towards the back entrance, “How did you do it?”

“Natasha gave me some spray stuff?” he says, almost like a question, “Apparently it washes out.”

“I hope it does” Bucky grumbles, flashing his ID at the doorman without meeting his eyes—

The inside of the party is alive.

That’s the only way to describe it. 

It’s like every single person in the building has merged into one singular being. And that being is having a blast.

There’s dancing and laughter and plenty of drinking.

The Stark’s always have an open bar, and it’s clear that this one is being used. 

Custom Halloween cocktails (and the signature glasses they come in) are littering the space, acting as extra decor as the multi-coloured lights dance through them. 

A woman dressed as a cat, holding a tray of neon green shots appears, smiling at Bucky as she offers him one;

“That I’d pay to see,” Tony says, coming up behind her, and drinking 3 of them in quick succession, “Terminator and Captain All-star doin’ jello shots”

Wilson, eye patch and all laughs, mirroring the billionaire and taking his shot with a grin. 

“Play nice” Y/N’s voice inserts, as the crowd parts to reveal her, “They don’t even get drunk from them, T— why would they want to do them?”

“For fun?” Tony replies, doing another 2 shots without coming up for air, “You’re gettin’ a little too into character there, cap”

As if to spite her brother, she declines the waitress's offer before making a show of politely thanking the next server who seems to be busying themselves following the more high-profile guests around. 

Any hopes Bucky might have had about spending the night with her are dashed a few minutes later by the arrival of the other Avengers… and then, a camera crew. 

A camera crew who find Y/N being dressed as Captain America captivating. 

And then, god— 

The addition of Tony’s costume? that’s the nail in the coffin. 

Every single person who doesn’t live with the duo is glued to them all night. 

Snapping pictures and laughing and ploughing them with drinks.

She only manages to slip away to Bucky’s side twice. 

The first time is because she catches him looking forlorn by a window.

That he’d been watching her reflection in but, still—

She’d nodded, making an inane excuse before crossing the room to press a kiss against his cheek. 

“Are you okay, handsome?” she whispers, directly into his ear.

“I’m okay” he replies, meaning it. “Waitin’ for Steve to get back with the drinks- Couldn’t face the bar.”

“Smart move” Y/N murmurs, tangling her fingers with his metal ones for a moment, “If you need me, come find me.”

“I haven’t lost you, doll” is the reply he gives her, nodding towards the window in half admission, and half explanation.

She laughs, kisses him properly and then, she ducks out of view with the playful salute that makes him very grateful for the privacy the party lighting provides.

The second time, they’ve been there for hours.

Steve is having the best time Bucky remembers seeing him have in… well, decades.

and frankly, it’s infectious. 

Bucky is laughing. Laughing, lips grazing a beer bottle as Natasha tells another embarrassing story about Rodgers that sounds strangely familiar.

He’s telling her that things haven’t changed that much in the past hundred years when he catches her. 

She’s stood, arm draped over her brother's shoulder with her head turned just slightly towards where he’s sat on a high stool that’s draped in fake cobwebs. 

She’s watching him. 

She’s just watching him with this, adoring look on her face that makes him blush even though he’s not meant to know that she’s looking.

Her gaze doesn’t linger. He never actually meets her eyes. She’s way too good for that to happen.

But his moment of distraction is noted by Natasha, who makes a jibe about him focusing on the wrong Steve. 

When Y/N separates from Tony to head towards the bathroom, Bucky makes his excuses as well, suddenly unable to bear another minute apart.

She actually does use the bathroom, which makes dread stir heavily in Bucky’s stomach. 

You’re acting like a stalker, Barnes, he thinks, hiding in the dark—

“Hey, Buck” Y/N greets, in a half-hearted impression of Steve, “You doin’ okay?”

The second part of the attempt is much better. 

So much better that he can’t help but laugh;

“That-” he chuckles, “is scary, doll. Please don’t do that again.”

She nods, beaming at him again. 

“You havin’ fun?” she asks, in her usual lilt, “You look like you are”

That almost sounds awed. He’s blushing, and her hand is reaching out to stroke his cheek and god, he’s leaning into her fingers;

“You were watchin’ me?” he murmurs, shy.

She chuckles, leaning in to kiss his brow. 

“Of course I was” she purrs, “seein’ you smilin’ like that, it’s the best part of a night like this.”

“A night like this” he echos, utterly entranced, “You mean Halloween?”

She shrugs and he can see the flush of alcohol in her face.

It’s beautiful. 

She’s beautiful. 

“See?” she murmurs, thumb on his lower lip, “You’re perfect…”

and, he thinks he might actually be melting. 

He’s pressed into the corner that he’d put himself in, and she’s wearing that stupid suit, and she’s blonde and for some reason, it’s not funny. 

Even though it should be.

It should be hilarious.

But, it’s… it’s not.

“That hairspray really has hold, huh?” 

He chuckles at that, as her fingers try and run through his hair. 

She gives up quickly, not wanting to risk pulling on the strands.

No, she wouldn’t ever do that.

“It’s yours,” he tells her lamely—

The spray… the hair— me…

The laughter she treats him to is nicer than the music that’s been playing all night. And the look of love on her face is sweeter than the bright red ‘blood’ orange cocktail that Natasha had made him drink. 

“I love you,” she tells him, “Sweetheart”

“I love you” he echos, “and I’ve been watching you too…”

“I know,” she says with a smirk, “You’re not half as subtle as you think you are, Soldier.”

“Maybe not” he agrees, leaning obviously towards her now, “but in my defence- everyone’s lookin’ at you tonight”

“Everyone” she agrees, a little grumpily, “I was really hopin’ that Tony was going to steal the spotlight, but I guess I can let him have this one.”

“People are lookin’ at him too,” he tells her, “if that helps”

“It does” she sighs, knowing that she has to get back to her brother soon, “It’ll help a whole bunch more when people aren’t calling me Cap’ and making jokes about blondes having more fun” 

He can’t help but chuckle at that. At the pout she’s wearing, and the way that there's a stubborn crease forming between her brows. 

“Are you?” 

“Am I what?” she asks, expression softening when she looks at him, again. 

“Having more fun?”

“Not yet” she replies, “but, if the way you keep starring at my ass in this suit is anything to go by then there’s still time for that to change”

That makes him flush hotter than he thought was possible;

He squirms a little. Embarrassed by the fact that he can’t deny the accusation behind her little joke. 

“I…uh—“ he stutters, trying to explain himself, “— um, I…I- di-“

“You don’t like the outfit?” her brow raises in a challenge.

Again, he can’t say that. It’s not true.

He toes at the floor, embarrassed by just how much he does like it.

“I better stop torturing you” she sighs, tone reluctant, “Let you get back to enjoying yourself with Steve.”

“I’m enjoyin’ myself with you,” he says, a little breathy.

“I know” she agrees, smoothing her hand down his front, straightening his shirt, “I know but Natasha has been watching us for 3 minutes, and I think she’s drunk enough to make jokes about us hooking up in the bathroom like high schoolers.”

“and that’d be bad,” he says lamely.

“That’d be bad” she agrees, playful laughter back in her tone, “Because while I’m stuck with Tony, you’re the one that’ll have to hear them all night.”

He nods, before pulling her in for a kiss. 

And then, she’s gone. 

And he’s back, ignoring the one sly dig about how long he spent in the bathroom, and how Y/N has also only just reappeared. 

She was right, he thinks, they’re lucky to get away with only that one dig. 

The rest of the night is fast. 

It’s loud and full of friends, laughter, and music. 

and a never-ending stream of drinks which Bucky can almost trick himself into believing are getting him buzzed. 

The routine of drinking them is calming if nothing else. 

The fruity ones are sweet, and the beer is classic and the shots, he finds out, aren’t that bad either. 

Even if he can’t taste them as they slip down his throat. 

He thinks he might’ve liked jello-shots, before. 

When they’d have actually served a purpose. 

The way that Steve is beaming at him is a purpose on its own he supposes. And they’re serving that one, so, he keeps drinking them. 

It’s not exactly like the ‘good old days’ but it’s nice. 

It’s very, very, nice.

The only thing that would make it nicer would be if Y/N had been able to escape the spotlight of everyone else for long enough to join him.

But, the way she’s smiling at him whenever he catches her eye across the crowded room takes the edge off.

The distance feels playful, not painful.

The glances and winks are flirtatious, and Bucky is loving it. 

He’s loving every single second of it. 

and then, it’s winding down.

The guests are leaving, pressing gracious kisses against Tony’s cheek, and then Y/N's and then it’s back to Tony—

He disappears before the room clears, arm in arm with a very female-looking Hulk.

There’s green paint all over his neck already, so it’s hardly a surprise. 

Banner hasn’t been drinking, and although he grumbles a bit about Tony’s choice of companion, when the fact that he’s dressed up as the man is highlighted, he realises that he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. 

When it’s time for the remaining Avengers to head home they separate into groups organically.

Somehow, Bucky winds up driving. 

He doesn’t complain about that, though. He prefers it. Even if Steve is a nightmare for interfering from the backseat. 

Wilson is black-out drunk. His speech so slurred that they’re not even pretending to understand him; and when they eventually pull up into the underground garage, Steve’s big brother complex fires up into high gear and he takes full responsibility for taking him inside and seeing him safely to his room. 

Bucky is thrilled by this. He doesn’t hide it well. Steve slaps his shoulder in mock scolding before he ducks away into the stairwell. 

He doesn’t know why he’s giddy on the way to his room. 

Well, he does. 

But he’s trying not to focus on it because it’s embarrassing.

It’s embarrassing because he’s excited by the idea of his girlfriend waiting for him in their room-

-Dressed as your best friend, he reminds himself, Dressed as Steve-

The feeling of wrongness only makes him more excited.

God, that’s sick, he thinks, hand on the door;

“About time, Sarge” 

Her voice makes any shame melt away from his core. 

and then he’s walking towards her. He’s pacing towards the bed, where she’s leaning against one of the mahogany four-poster posts, with the shield propped up against her bed frame.

When he realises that he’s looking at that, it doesn’t take long at all for his gaze to jump to her boots. 

They’re red and knee-high, and then he’s starring at her ass in the suit again-

“Shall I keep the wig on?” 

He’s caught, again. 

His mouth opens to…Well, he’s not exactly sure of what he intends to do, but, nothing wasn’t the plan;

“Or is the blonde too weird?”

This whole thing is weird, but he likes it.

He’s still just gawking, so she beams at him before kicking a leg up onto the bed, to better display the boots. 

“I think we should make Steve wear these,” she says, “I think they’d really set-”

“Can we not talk about Steve right now?-” he asks, chuckling, “Please?”

“Yes, sir” she replies, straightening back out and offering him a salute, “the bedroom is a Steve free zone.”

and then, he’s kissing her.

He’s kissing her, and she tastes like cocktails and his hands are on her waist, and god, she’s perfect-

“Y’know, I-” he pants, lips barely leaving hers, “-I always liked the outfit.”

“Wanna know a secret?” she whispers, hands moving up to cup his jaw, “So have I”

Oh, god- he’s laughing. 

They’re both laughing, and kissing, and then they’re on the bed. 

And they’re still kissing—

She loses the wig quite quickly. 

Bucky tugs it free and launches it across the room where it knocks over an empty vase with a dull clatter. 

The boots, however, stay on. 

Even when the suit eventually comes off, the shiny red boots remain. 

and the next morning, when she wakes up, she kicks them off, letting them fall to the side of the bed. And then, as she turns to fully admire him, she finds herself laughing quietly at the stains of red that smeared across his cheeks, and his neck, and his mouth. 

“I made a mess of you, sugar” she murmurs, thumb brushing over the curve of his jaw, “I’ll help you clean up later— I promise.”

“I’ll hold ya’ to that, doll” 

Masterlist

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #oneshot #female reader #fluff #drabble #x reader

[alovesongtheywrote]

kicking my feet and giggling over pt. 5 of nightmare academia pls bless us with another part

♥ Summary: i'm afraid you'll have a different response to this one :/ in this chapter of nightmare academia, the reader meets the team and the world crashes and burns. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: remember those jokes kate callahan made about beating up pedophiles in her custody? yeah, we're exploring that. tws for police brutality, spencer being a dick, Angst, and a passing mention of vomit

♥ A/N: okay, it's honesty time. i don't like kate callahan. i specifically have issues with how she's written- even more specifically, i don't like a lot of her dialogue. this chapter kinda explores that? anyway, im sorry :( (big thanks to @mxcheese for the help on this one :D )

♥ Word Count: 2147

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

You weren’t much more than a ball of nerves.  Standing outside the bar, looking up at the sign, all you could feel was panic.  You felt like you weren’t supposed to be there, like you never should have come at all.

So.  You just stood there in the street, leaning against your car like a creeper.  Spencer was already inside.  They all were.  All those fucking FBI agents.  You bit your lip and let your nails dig into the palms of your hands.  

Maybe you should leave.  You could text Spencer, tell him you had come down with a sudden bout of illness.  Maybe you would tell him you were projectile vomiting all over your apartment.  Maybe that would kill whatever was growing between you.

You turned, grabbing the handle of the car door.  Before you could open it, though, something made you stop.  You could feel eyes on you.  You were being watched.  You looked up to see a woman staring out at you from the front seat of a black SUV.  She looked a touch panicked- as if you had caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing.  She reached for her door just as you let go of yours.  Something about this woman made you nervous.  

By the time she got out of her vehicle, you were safe behind the doors of the bar.

You didn’t hesitate once inside.  The second you saw Spencer- not even Spencer, the second you saw Morgan- you made a beeline for the table.  Despite the anxiety you felt, you were welcomed with open arms.  Literally.

A ball of colour and flower-themed hairpins flung herself at you, “Hi!  Hello!  I’m Penelope, we spoke on the phone!”

“Oh fuck, hi!  It’s nice to finally meet you in person!” you responded, “You’re even more fabulous than you sound.”

Penelope beamed, immediately charmed by your compliment.  She wrapped an arm around you and turned to Morgan, half-whispering a, “Can we keep them?”

You let out a laugh, almost forgetting your previous discomfort.  You turned to gaze at the other faces around the table.  Morgan and Spencer sat next to each other- Morgan with an easy grin on his face, and Spencer with a look so anxious it made you nervous again.  Beside Spencer sat an older man with the most fantastic set of eyebrows you had ever seen.  Beside him sat a severe-looking man with short dark hair, and beside him sat two women- one blonde, and one brunette.  Neat.  Totally a normal amount of people to meet in one night.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Dr. (Y/N) (L/N).”

The sound of your name caught your attention.  With all the speed you possessed, you pulled something witty out of your brain, “Last I checked, that is my identity.”

Eyebrow man cracked a grin.  Morgan caught your attention, “(Y/N), this is SSA David Rossi.”

The man nodded and extended a hand for you to shake.  Between him and Morgan, you realized you had faced more handshakes today than you had in the past year.

“Beside him is Aaron Hotchner,” Morgan continued.  Aaron Hotchner just nodded a hello, his severe look breaking to allow a nice grin to cross his features.  You smiled back, trying your best to come off as polite and sweet and not completely fucking terrified.

Garcia took over for the last two introductions.  With one arm still around you, she pointed to the women beside Aaron Hotchner.  “Those two lovelies are Jennifer Jareau and Kate Callahan.”

Jennifer Jareau and Kate Callahan both waved hello as Penelope spoke.  You waved back.  If you weren’t intimidated before, you absolutely were now.  

Penelope turned to you, “And this, my fine furry friends, is the lovely and terrifying (Y/N) (L/N).”

“More commonly known as the doctor who’s had my team distracted for the past few months,” Aaron smiled at you, “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“We haven’t been that distracted-” Garcia tried to argue.

“No, baby girl, we’ve been distracted.”

“That’s my bad,” you said, giving Penelope’s arm a pat, “I’m just naturally distracting.”

“Clearly,” Jennifer said, smirking not at you, but across the table at Spencer, “Anyone who can distract Spence from spouting off statistics has to be distracting.”

You nodded, “I’ll be honest, it takes effort.  It’s nothing my distraction skills can’t handle.”

The group laughed at your attempted joke, and Garcia gestured for you to take a seat next to Morgan.  You were in- and good lord did you feel like some kind of spy.  The agents accepted you quickly, asking you questions about what Spencer was like as a professor, and what sort of things you did to get under his skin.  You gave them the answers you thought they’d like to hear.  The funny answers, the sweet answers.

You did not tell them that you were scared.  You didn’t tell them that you kind of wanted to slam their doctor boy into a wall and kiss him until he couldn’t stand straight, and you didn’t tell them that it terrified you.

You gave them the good answers, and asked them about themselves, and generally, it was a good set of social interactions.  

You learned that Aaron Hotchner and Jennifer Jareau both had kids.  Rossi had three ex-wives.  Morgan remodelled properties as a pastime.  Kate enjoyed cute animal photos.  Garcia was a ball of pure joy.  

And Spencer was quiet.  He didn’t say a word and he didn’t bother to correct you on anything- he wouldn’t even look at you.  His eyes stayed on his drink, on his friends, on the other people in the bar.  He looked everywhere except for you.

You tried to be okay with that.  For a while, you were.  Then the night crashed and burned.

Kate was regaling you with a story of how she took down a pedophile.  That was fine.  It was all fine.  Then she said, “Yep, that one just so happened to trip over his own feet right before I brought him in.”

You froze.  Discomfort seeped into your bones as the group of federal agents laughed off a joke about police brutality.  As someone who volunteered extensively with former offenders, at-risk youth, and many in between, well… discomfort was putting it lightly.  You understood to a degree- everyone wants to beat up pedophiles.  You are no exception to that.  However, the difference between everyone and federal agents is that the latter are federal agents.

You felt sick.  You could feel your hands shaking slightly at your sides.  The conversation carried on around you- like normal, like nothing had happened.  Spencer laughed.  There was a gaping hole in your chest, filled with stale bar air and anxiety.  It was getting hard to breathe.  

You were right.  You never should have come at all.

You checked your wrist, forgetting again that you weren’t wearing a watch.  When you laid eyes on the bare skin of your wrist, you pulled your phone from your pocket and checked that, instead.  It was just late enough for you to slip away without raising too many questions.  For that, you were thankful.

“Oh, shoot,” you faked the exclamation, “It’s getting late, and I have papers to grade tomorrow.  I should get going- it was nice to meet you all, though!”

“Oh, really?  Do you have to go?” Penelope asked, hitting you with massive puppy dog eyes.  You panicked.  She really was lovely, and until that comment, you had a good time.  The parts of you that wanted to stay surrendered immediately.  

The parts of you that wanted to leave were fighting off a panic attack and couldn’t come up with anything smart to say.

And that’s how you came up with, “Yeahhh, I really should go walk my… fish.  I’ll see you guys around, good luck with the crime!”

You didn’t give them a chance to respond.  In seconds, you had cleared the bar, pushed open the door, and slipped into the night.  The street was empty.  The black SUV was gone.  You struggled to unlock your car, keys slipping between your fingers like a fuck mothering fish.  When you heard a voice beside you, you jumped.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

It was Reid, finally talking to you after a night of silence.  You wanted to be petty- but more than that, you just wanted to leave, “It’s nothing.  I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“It’s not nothing.  You don’t have a fish, if you did Garcia would know about it.”

“Yeah, okay, I don’t have a fish.  I’m just feeling kinda sick.  I’ll see you later.”

“You’re not feeling sick.”

You finally unlocked your damn car.  That gave you the strength to be a bit of a bitch.

“Oh, and how would you know, Reid?  It’s not like you asked me.  It’s not like you’ve said a word to me since I got here.”

He had the audacity to look shocked.  He paused for a second.  In the silence, you pulled open the driver’s side door.  He placed a hand on it, stopping you.  He winced when you glared at him, but your gaze didn’t soften.  He didn’t deserve that.

“Okay, I’ve been quiet tonight.  I’m sorry.  But something is wrong with you, too.  What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” you slammed the car door shut, “Y’know, it’s good, actually.”

You opened the door and slammed it shut again.

“What?  (Y/N), what are you talking about?”

“It’s nothing,” you opened and slammed the door, “I just remembered that we come from different worlds, Reid.  Different universes.  You come from a place where you go to report a crime, and the police take care of you because you’re an affluent white boy and you’re a cop.  I come from a place where if something happens to me, I can’t go to the police because they’ll either treat me like I’m a criminal, or the first question out of their mouths will be, ‘What were you wearing when it happened?’”

“I- I don’t follow.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t, you’re a cop.”

“I’m-”

He looked confused.  You slammed the door shut again.  You decided to elaborate for him.

“It’s about Kate, Reid.  Look, I get it.  She likes to beat up pedophiles.  Everyone wants to beat up pedophiles.  That’s why most of them get their faces bashed in in prison- but the difference between us and Kate Callahan is that she’s a Federal Agent.  She has a responsibility, not only to the public, but to the victims to carry out each arrest like a professional so that she doesn’t lose any cases or cause undue bodily harm to an innocent person by mistake.  And shit- look me in the eye and tell me the FBI has a perfect track record with arrests.  Even if she does, the rest of you don’t.”

He paused.  His eyes searched your face desperately.  You weren’t sure what he wanted to find.  You opened the door again.  This time, he didn’t stop you, and you didn’t slam it shut.  A look of resignation took over his features.  Whatever he was looking for, you assumed he’d found it.

“What would you know about being a professional?  What would you know about being a Federal Agent?  You aren’t one, (Y/N).  And you aren’t a cop.  You don’t know anything about police work.  You’re just an academic- and you aren’t even good at that.  That’s part of why you act out.  You’re insecure about your own intelligence, you’re insecure about your place in the world, and you have every reason to be.”

Reid looked at you expectantly.  He wanted you to snap.  Maybe he wanted you to break.  Too bad for him.  If he wanted to hurt you, if he wanted to win the prank war, he should have pulled some Carrie shit back in the bar.  Honestly?  You would rather be covered in pig’s blood.

You refused to meet his eye.  You wrapped your hand around the edge of the car door until it hurt.  You smiled.

“Thank you.”

“What?”

“I said, thank you.  Thank you for reminding me what this is.  Thank you for reminding me that despite how close it feels we’ve gotten, we are two complete strangers.  You may think you know me because of your bullshit profiling and an invasive background check, but you don’t, and you never will.  I’m no one but a colleague to you, Dr Reid.  That’s all I’ll be for the rest of my life.”

You pushed away from the car door and left it open.  You didn’t stop until you were chest to chest with Reid.  He stumbled backwards into the street like a scared animal.  You refused to feel bad about that. The thing growing between you was already dead.

“Now get the fuck away from my car, and stay the hell away from me.”

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #nightmare academia

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Spencer Reid x prisoner teen male reader

Set during season 12 (I'm on it at the minute)

Summary: While in Prison Spencer Reid meets a young prisoner who is in for the murder of his parents, who abused him his whole life. The former FBI Agent becomes his sort-of brother figure to the 18 year old.

Tw: abuse, child abuse, abusive parents, talk of abuse,

Third person pov...

On the way in to the Prison Spencer sat next to a boy who looked more like a kid than a young adult, from looks he had long H/C hair, a round young looking face, innocent eyes which screamed

abused.

What confused Spencer the most was why a kid like him was in prison for, intrigued by the boy Spencer started a conversation with him. "Hi there" he whispers, his words made the young scared boy look up at him.

His body language tells Spencer he wasn't treated right most of his life. 'Hunched shoulders, not making eye contact, submissive behaviour, this boy has been abused his whole life and knowone ever knew' thought the Former FBI Agent and Dr.

"Y-yes Dr" came the young boy picking at his nails as he spoke to the man next to him. Spencer eyes widened as he heard the boy call him 'Dr' he hadn't been called Dr since before he was arrested.

The boys eyes widened in horror as he realises what he said, hime begins hyperventilating. "I-im s-sorry I m-meant Sir" he said in a hushed whisper apologising again and again until Spencer stopped him.

The older man smiled at thw young boy making him relax. "It's okay, I guess you know me already, but I'm Spencer Reid" said the Dr his voice calm and inviting.

This made the boy stop shaking, he unhunched his shoulders, and looked at Spencer. "What's your name?" Asked the Dr, wanting to get to know the scared boy next to him.

The boy straightens up and manages a small smile, he was happy about meeting his idol Dr Spencer Reid. "I'm Y/N L/N, sir" he said quietly, before going back go fiddling with his hands.

"I guess you've heard of me?" Asks Spencer, he was hoping to distract thr boy from his nerves by keeping him talking.

The boy nods his head. "Yes sir, I have read everything and seen every news report about you and your team all my life, since you started" Exclaimed the boy before trying to hide his excitement.

Spencer laughs slightly at the blushing boy, who smiled back. "I see so you've been following my team, what do you like about it?" Asks the man

Y/N continues to tell the Dr about how he was interested in profiling and working for the FBI since he came across one of David Rossis books in his town library.

Time skip...

Soon they arrive at the Prison, the Prisoners are forced put of the transport and outside, Y/N stands close next to Spencer and the man stands close to him ready to protect him, lucky them they are put together in a group.

As they walk the young boy follows Spencer through the prison, he had never been in or too one before. As they walk the arrive at a room where they will sleep.

One of the guard come forward. "I will call your name, if I do grab a bed" he yells, as he yells Y/N flinches making Spencer instantly reach out to comfort him.

The guard calls put names he then gets to Y/Ns. "L/N, Reid... ... ... ..." Soon everyone gets a bed, lucky for Spencer and Y/N they managed to get theirs next to each other.

As the day goes on its soon time for food, Y/N and Spencer make their way to The lunch hall and grab a tray of disgusting looking food, and finding a table to sit at. As they sit Spencer starts up a conversation. "So why are you in here?" He asks the kid in front of him.

His casual question makes Y/N freeze in place, his spoon centimetres from his lips, the boy puts it back and once again hunches over himself. "I killed my parents on my 18th birthday, in our home" he says quietly.

His answer made Spencer almost choke on his food, he watches as the boy taps his spoon on the tray. "Why did you do that?" He asks the 18 year old.

Y/N takes a breath before speaking. "Because they beat me my whole life and knowone was able to help me, not the police, not the school, not even social services because they were excellent liars and could get away with anything. Ever since I can remember they hated me they didn't even want me alive, so many times I had to live woth those monsters that once I turned 18 I would kill them I would make them experience what I experiences my whole life, and i did i killed them, i stabbed them until i felt safe enough around them for once in my lif ei was free, free of the hurt, free from thise mosnters and i dont regret it!" Exclaimed the boy his hands trembling as he held his spoon so tightly that Spencer had to take it from him so he didn't do anything to himself with it.

"Y/N! Hey can you hear me, they aren't here okay, your parents are here to hurt you anymore" spoke Soencer firmly to the boy, Y/N snapped out of hid big tears streamed down his face at Soencers words.

Spencer looks at the boy dead in the eyes. "I've only knowne you a couple hours but I can tell that all you ever wanted was someone to care about you, someone who loves you, so I ask let me be that for you, let me be the person to protect you" Says the Dr.

His words make the boys tears fall even faster as the boy reached out a hand to his brother amthe curly haired man reached for the hand and held it tightly he would never let this boy be alone again he swears to protect him.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, as usual sorry for the grammar and Spelling mistakes!

Request are open!

Word count: 1064

#criminal minds #fanfic #light angst #behavioural analysis unit #spencer reid #Spencer reid x male teen reader #teen reader #abuse mention #child abuse #tw abuse #x male reader #x brother!reader #season 12 #prison #angst #Spencer reid x teen!reader

[wrongplacerighttime]

agent!harry x agent!fmc

the one where grace and harry are working a late night at the office. he follows her into the supply closet and things get…interesting…and grace realizes just how much she doesn’t hate him // a blurb for little bunny

part one here // part two here // little bunny masterlist

wc: 3.5k

tw: this basically just filthy, dirty smut. MDNI!! 18+. sir kink, breeding kink, little bit of degradation. not sure what else. lemme know if i missed anything. :)

yes, sir.

It was late, and the last thing Grace wanted to be doing was typing reports. She had her headphones on, working double duty playing music and holding her hair back out of her face. Her fingers were moving rapidly over the keyboard trying to make the work go as quickly as possible. She had more involvement in the most recent case, which meant there was more paperwork on her part that she needed to make sure got filed properly. She reminded herself this is why she liked to sit back and watch more than she liked to be in the field. Grace also had been consulting on a string of murders around LA county and she was waiting for an email back from the chief of police before she left, and the time zone difference meant she would be here for a while longer. She glanced at the clock, the seconds hand ticking and dancing over the numbers, almost taunting her in a way. Her molars clench together in the back of her mouth stifling a yawn growing from her lungs. It really wasn’t that late, but it was December and the darkness crept into the sky earlier and earlier as the days passed and they were in the thick of the season, winter solstice just around the corner, making 8:00pm feel like 10:00pm, and she was ready for bed.

It didn’t help that Harry was sitting across the room at his desk, working on his own reports and throwing the occasional ball of wadded up paper Grace’s way to get under her skin. She had put the headphones on hours ago to drown out his incessant pen clicking and finger drumming that had caused her to lose focus more times than she could count. She had asked him to stop once but he made it a point to do it more obnoxiously and after she had put on her music to drown it out, he resorted to the paper throwing to continue to get on her nerves. A paper landed right on her keyboard and that was her final straw.

“God damnit Harry! Can you just leave me alone for once?” She rips her headphones from her ears and slams them down on her desk…or rather her keyboard and whatever combination of keys being pressed results in her entire file disappearing, whooshing away into inconceivable nothingness. Her eyes ignite with anger and she launches the paper ball back in his direction, hitting him in the face. She should've thrown something heavier, like her headphones.

His eyes narrow at her before a smirk grows on his face. “I don’t like your attitude, Grace.” He teases in a sing-song voice, heckling her.

“Fuck you. I’m trying to work and you’re distracting me.” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair, tipping her head back and looking at the ceiling. “And you just made me delete this whole file so now I have to start over.”

“I didn’t make you do shit, you should have been more careful instead of throwing a fit like a toddler.” He says matter-of-factly with a shrug and she scoffs, rolling her eyes before opening an empty document and deciding it was better to just ignore him. They’re quiet for another moment, Grace trying to calm her breaths while attempting to recall everything that was on her document as Harry’s fingers clicked over his keyboard, humming a familiar tune under his breath. His actions were maddening, but it didn’t stop her eyes wandering over his slightly unbuttoned shirt exposing his skin...didn’t stop her gaze trailing over the tendons in his forearms flexing and relaxing as he typed. She felt the fire traveling down the wire of her spine, settling right in her belly. She pulls her lower lip between her teeth and turns back to her computer and sighs.

“What case are you even working on?” She asks, and he glances over at her quickly before looking back to his blank screen. The truth is, he hadn’t really been working on anything at all. They’d been so busy recently, and he had stayed behind during their last case. It had been weeks since they last fucked. He just missed her. He wanted to just be in her proximity, alone, for a little while before he left…but a little bit turned into three hours. He’s been here, with her, daydreaming about taking her into the supply closet and bending her over a shelf.

“Consulting on a suspected LDSK in Denver.” He lies through his teeth and her nose crinkles at his answer.

“I don’t remember seeing that on the list Aaron sent out?” Her statement sounds more like a question, and he scrambles to come up with an excuse.

“Uh, he just put it on my desk this morning. I’m waiting for an email back from the police department.” His jaw ticks once and she knows he’s lying…that’s his tell.

“You’re lying but whatever.” She mutters and he presses his lips in a flat line. She opens the drawer of her desk, looking for a manila folder but instead sees that she’s run out. She stands, walking past his desk on the way to the door. He spins in his chair to follow her with his gaze.

“Where are you going?” He asks, throwing a stress ball in the air before catching it again, repeating the motion but she doesn’t stop walking.

“Supply closet. Does it matter? Wanna come hold my hand so I don’t get lost?” She feigns in a whiny voice and pushes the glass door open, striding down the empty hallway while shaking her head, the atmosphere almost eerie when no one else is here. The hallway is dimly lit from the flood lights, her eyes adjusting to the difference as she rounds the corner and pushes the supply closet door open. She flips the switch on the wall and the door clicks shut. The supply closet was actually an empty office, so “closet” wasn’t the proper label for it. She weaves her way through shelves of office provisions and she hears the door open and shut again. Her heart races, knowing she’s not alone. Realistically, she knows it’s just Harry coming to bother her. They were the only two here. That didn’t make it any less unsettling…something about being in a small, dimly lit space with him making her pulse skyrocket.

“Go away.” She tries to make her words stern, but they come out shaky. She sees his figure standing in the shadows of the room, and she swallows meekly as she turns back to the shelf where the folders are. “You don’t scare me, Styles. If that’s what you’re trying to do.” She feels his presence moving closer to her and her hands shake as she grips the box in her hands.

“Wasn’t. Just miss you.” His voice is low in her ear and he presses his chest against her back, warmth radiating through the thin material of his shirt. He cages her between his arms, his mouth dropping to the crook of her neck and his teeth graze her skin. He bites lightly causing her to wince, then soothes the pain by lapping his tongue over and kissing.

“Miss me?” She twists around to face him. His breath fans over her lips at their close proximity and before she can say anything else, his lips crash to hers and she groans into his mouth. He smiles into the kiss…at the reaction he always seems to be able to pull from her. Their lips move in synchrony, his tongue darting into her mouth the second she parts her lips. Her hands run up his broad chest before going around his shoulders and she tugs the curls at the nape of his neck. She pushes her hips against him, a primal reaction she can never control, her mind forcing her body as close as she can get to him. His strong arms wrap around her waist, covering the expanse of her back and holding her to him as he walks her away from the shelf and backs her into a wall.

“Need me so bad don’t you, bunny? Can't get enough?” He drops his lips to her collarbone as she mewls, her thighs squeezing together trying to relieve the pressure growing between them. And she hates to admit that he was right. She couldn’t get enough. No one compares to him. Nobody ever would…and she can’t help that she craves him. Craves way he stretches her open, craves the way he talks her through it every time…even craves the way he uses the pet name for her because he knows it makes her tummy twist with desire. He ruts his hips into her and she can feel his hardness pressing into her, catching her shirt and exposing her skin to the frigid air in the closet. His fingers dance over her waistband before dipping underneath. He trails a digit between her folds, collecting her arousal before pressing against her sensitive bundle of nerves and her head falls back against the wall, bucking her hips into his hand desperate for more friction. The gates inside her mind were fighting to be let open, and she's holding the mindset she had been so desperate to fall into at bay. She didn’t want to be vulnerable around him, but something about him just had her feeling so hazy, it was intoxicating just being near him.

“Please, sir. Need you.” The words tumbled from her lips before she realized they even came out. She was desperate, her mind slipping quickly into submissiveness, something she’d tried to hide from him for too long. He pulls back to look at her, the title something he’s not used to hearing from her, and he notices the way her eyes are glazed over and her pupils are blown wide inside her irises, her bottom lip jutting out slightly swollen from their kiss. He knows that look anywhere. Maybe not on her…but god did he love it, his own switch flipping inside him and changing his train of thought

“Oh, my sweet girl. There she is.” He hooks a finger under her chin and thumbs over her lips. Grace opens and wraps them around his thumb and sucks lightly, flattening her tongue against the skin. His eyes flutter and he leans his forehead against hers. She watches him through her lashes, doe-eyed and drunk on him. She swirls her tongue around the tip of his thumb and a groan of pleasure escapes from his throat. He feels his cock twitching against the zipper of his pants and when his eyes open, she sees the darkness in his expression and she feels the heat swirl in her belly, one that she’s grown all too accustomed to around him.

“Knees. Now.” He demands and she complies without a second thought. He’s been wanting to feel her pretty lips wrapped around him since the day they met, when she wore the most perfect shade of pink over them. She quickly brings her hands up to undo his belt and he watches from above, his fingers tracing delicately over her jawline.

“Look at you, so desperate to get me in your mouth, like a good little slut.” She whimpers at his words and quickly makes work at the button, popping it open and sliding the zipper down its track. In one swift move she’s greedily pulling at his waistband, yanking the fabric away as his cock springs free and her mouth waters at the sight.

“‘Cause that’s all you are right?” She looks up at him through her lashes and a devilish grin plays on his lips at the sight of her cheeks flustered and he waits for her answer. Her eyes flick down once to his hard dick against his torso, and she nods in confirmation. Her eyes meet his again, pleading for his permission and needing to feel the weight of him in her mouth more than she needs the air she breathes. But before he gives in to her, he wants to hear her say it.

“Words. Wanna hear you say it baby.” He croons and she squeezes her thighs together with a small whine.

“Y-yes, sir. I’m just a slut. Only for you.” She adds and she sees the look in his eyes go a shade darker.

“That’s right, only for me, bunny. Go on. Suck it.” He demands, grinning at her words and this…this is what he’s been waiting for, this scene with her on her knees in front of him…maybe the supply closet where they work wasn’t the best place, but seeing her like this just for him makes up for it. She parts her lips and wraps them around his tip, sucking and kissing, grazing lightly and teasing him just a little. His fingers intertwine through the strands of her hair, gripping at the root and pushing her forward. She opens further for him, tears pricking her lash line as he nudges the back of her throat. She breathes through her nose, and his chin drops to his chest taking in the sight below him. A sight that fills his fantasies, the image he conjured up in his head to help him get himself off on many lonely nights, and it’s better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“Fuck, Grace. Just like that baby. So good. Look so pretty like this.” His words encourage her, wanting nothing more than to please him. Steadying herself, she grips her hands on his thighs, dimpling the muscle under his skin as she pushes herself further, taking as much of him as she could down her throat and swallowing around him. His free hand darts up to the wall to hold himself up, the sensation of her throat squeezing around him making his knees weak. A string of expletives fall from his lips as his eyes flutter closed, rolling back into his head. He pulls away momentarily and she breathes in, before he’s slowly thrusting back in and making her gag around his cock again and again.

“Fucking hell. Look at you…taking it all down that pretty throat. Knew you could, knew you’d do so good for me.” He speaks between gritted teeth. His encouragement sends her mind into a frenzy and she flattens her tongue against him as she pulls her head away, leaving just the tip and she swirls her tongue around it before sliding him down her throat again, repeating the motions. He tightens his grip around the strands of her hair, pulling at the root and she hums, sending vibrations through his length. With a curse under his breath, he pulls her off before she has him cumming down her throat. She breathes deeply, the deprivation of air stinging her lungs as it filters back in through her nose. Her chest heaves with heavy breaths and her lips are swollen, tears stained with mascara streaming down her cheeks from his intrusion. He can’t help but think she looks ethereal like this, all drunk and dumb just from his cock down her throat. “Up, baby.” He commands and she stands, he takes her cheeks between his hands and brings his lips to hers, melding them together and her eyes squeeze shut, still searching for the breaths she lost.

“Please fuck me.” She begs, her voice raspy as she breaks the kiss and he wastes no time as he spins her around, her chest pressing against the wall. He yanks her jeans and underwear down all in one go, running his hands over her now exposed skin as he’s eye level with her dripping hole.

“So pretty.” He mumbles, running his thumb over her and watches as she clenched around nothing. He taps her ass lightly once before he stands and she grins. He guides himself to her, sliding through her arousal and bumping against her clit. Grace looks down, watching the way he slides between her folds and his tip glistening with a mixture of the both of them in the dim lighting. He pulls back and slowly, finally, pushes himself into her and her eyes flutter closed, a garbled groan coming from the depths of her throat at the stretch, feeling every ridge…every vein. He stills once he’s fully sheathed inside of her, grabbing her wrists and forcing them behind her at the base of her spine. He holds them there as he pulls out, cursing under his breath at the way she grips him. He snaps his hips, pushing through her walls without warning and she feels the tears well in her eyes once more, the pain mixing with the pleasure sending sparks down her spine straight to her clit. He drives into her again and again, sweat forming on his hairline and cries and moans falling from her lips.

“Gonna fill your pretty little pussy up, get you all full of my cum.” He leans over her and speaks against the shell of her ear. A pathetic whine leaves her throat at the image of him dripping from between her legs and down her thighs. And she loves it, every single time she can’t get enough, feels like it gets her high. He feels her clench around him at his words and he smirks. “Yeah? Y’like that? Like the thought of me claiming you, branding you with my cum?”

“Yes — god yes..” She groans, the thought of walking around with him all warm inside her making her feel floaty. His grip on her wrists tightens and she bites her lip, the pressure inside her growing and coming to a head.

“Sweet bunny, bet you’d like it if I got you pregnant too, huh — fuck — wanna see that cute little belly swollen, let everyone know who you belong to.” He growls, his teeth brushing the cartilage of her ear, and her head is spinning at the image he’s painting inside her head with his filthy words. His ring-clad hand reaches around her hip and he presses his fingers against her clit, her head falling back against his shoulder. She pants, feeling his broad chest against her back, the friction of their bodies making her skin hot. He pinches the pearl of nerves between his fingers and her mouth falls open.

“Oh fuck Har-Harry I’m gonna —”

“I know, bunny. Squeezing me so tight, cum for me.” He rubs his fingers over her clit and then she’s seeing stars, eyes squeezing shut and his name falling from her lips like a prayer as she pulses around him, pulling him over the edge with her. He grunts and groans against her shoulder, praising her and riding through his own orgasm while holding her up. Her legs feel like jello and when she feels him twitching inside her she hums in contentment. His hips still, and he leaves open mouth kisses against her neck, his teeth grazing her skin and leaving goosebumps.

After another moment catching his breath, he pulls out of her and tucks himself back into his pants. He bends down, pulling her pants up for her and spinning her around to button them. She looks up at him through her dopey eyes and he knows she isn’t quite back down to earth yet.

“Gonna hold all of me in there til you get home, m’kay sweet girl?” He brings his forehead to hers as she nods aimlessly. He pecks her in the tip of her nose once. Then her lips and she lets out a whimper into his mouth. “Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” She mewls and he smirks, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the supply room. He walks them back to their desks, gathering her laptop and papers into her bag as she watches him, her conscience coming back to reality slowly but surely. He doesn’t say anything, offering his hand to her again wordlessly and she reluctantly takes it. They ride the elevator down to the lower level in silence, his foot tapping on the floor. When the doors open, she keeps her head low and quickly exits, making her way out the front door of the building to her car parked across the street. He follows behind her, parked in the same lot. He turns to her before opening his door. She bites her lip, fighting the grin that wants to emerge.

“See you tomorrow, bunny.” He says just loud enough for her to hear, the streetlight casting a warm light over his features making her heart swell. She nods.

“Tomorrow.” They both slide into the drivers seats of their cars. She watches as he drives off, a pang in her chest almost wishing she was going with him. She shakes the thought away, starting her car and driving home on autopilot as her mind wanders, her thoughts full of him…his voice…his eyes…the ink scarred into his skin. She pulls up to her apartment building, sighing and cursing herself.

She thinks she’s falling for him. Grace walks inside, her mind racing around in circles.

She couldn’t be in love with him, because they weren’t supposed to let their feelings get in the way of their job…and whatever else they had going on between them. It was just sex. She runs her hands through her tangled hair as she unlocks her door, pushing herself inside and dropping her bags on the floor. She completes her night routine in record time and climbs between the covers sheets on her bed, her head hitting the pillow signifying her favorite time of the day. Her mind is a little hazy still, and sleep pulls her under into dreamland.

They were filled with him, and she was fucked.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry #styles #harry styles x fmc #harry styles smut #harry fic #fic #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry smut #harry edward styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x oc #agent!fmc #agent!harry #little bunny #only you #yes sir #little bunny blurb

[stoneagedevil]

Cherry Red, Denim Blue, and White Hot Rage | Billy Hargrove x Reader

TW/CW: Speeding, sexualization of reader, billy being a horndog, etc.

- 🏁-

The growl of the cherry red ‘75 Corvette warmed your heart, and sent adrenaline coursing through your veins every time you pressed your foot onto the accelerator. Pressing the clutch and moving your right hand to shift gears was second nature to you, and you almost found it easier to do this motion than to breathe sometimes.

However, right now the purr of your beloved steed was more comforting than anything, as today, you’d be attending a new school in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, Indiana. Hawkins High, to be more precise. Ever since your alarm had screamed at you to get up, you’d been chain smoking cigarettes like a maniac. A balanced breakfast.

Truly it didn’t matter what time you set the alarm for the day prior, as today, you were late. Your mind racing like your car on empty roads, you’d managed to forget multiple things at home multiple times. But this didn’t bother you.

The more time spent in your pristine baby was less time spent doing the “get to know you” routine at another new school.

Your father was a government agent: well off, absent, the usual. While he wasn’t able to tell you much about why he uprooted your lives to move to Indiana, one thing was for certain: this was a dangerous situation.

It wasn’t all bad, you supposed. He provided for you. Your dad and you had worked out a deal: get good grades, face no repercussions. You had free rein over your home and free time.

You were prepared to make this place your bitch too.

You pulled into the driveway of the school, looking for suitable parking places for your prized possession.

And that’s when you saw it. A fellow Chevy, a ‘79 Camaro, in as pristine condition as your Vette. Beside the admittedly stunning car was an open spot - on both sides, actually. You’d figured another passionate Chevy owner would do well to be mindful of their doors. If you had to deal with a door-ding in your fiberglass, you were prepared to break a couple of fingers.

Carefully and expertly, you sailed into one of the two open spots. The outside of the school was empty, signifying class was in session.

You grabbed your bag from your passenger side, slinging it over your shoulder and popping the trunk in order to bring the soft top over the car. Latching it into place, you bid your car farewell.

Time for second period. Your first period teacher would have to get over your absence. There was always tomorrow.

Walking into the room, you received many looks. Multiple eyes flitted up and down your form in order to get a read on you. Who are you? Where do you fit in? Do you even fit in at all? These were the questions you supposed were looping through their brains. The attention you received was annoying, but not unthought of; you couldn’t imagine anything super interesting happened here.

Your day consisted of weaving in and out of bodies in the hallways with whispers following behind you, entering and leaving classrooms, and finding a place to sit in the cafeteria, where you met a band of misfits, one of which was named Eddie who you had a very engaging conversation with on Black Sabbath’s discography. “The Writ” is unmatched in your eyes. He respected that.

Overall, the day was mundane, yet slightly enjoyable.

That was until you left the doors of the school, your eyes immediately catching an ass cladded in blue denim jeans resting on YOUR car, and a large crowd hovering over it. Attached to the ass was an ass himself. Denim head to toe, blonde curly mullet, cigarette trapped between his lips and an earring dangling on one side. The fucking nerve of this denim-ed dork sitting on your car like he owned it. He had another thing coming.

“Deep breaths.” You muttered. A hefty breath in and out followed your words. And then you started walking, shoving these strangers out of your way, not caring what they had to say in return. You had to defend your car’s honor.

When you were in his peripherals, he immediately took notice of you. Rather than trying to read you, he was checking you out. Sizing you up in a way that measured how much you’d play hard to get. He was in for a rude awakening.

“This pretty thing yours?” You asked him, nodding your head to your car behind him.

He laughed and ducked his head, pinching the cigarette between his fingers. “No, but my pretty thing is the Camaro. You could be too though.”

The crowd watched in anticipation: was the new girl set to be another Hargrove conquest? Not quite.

You pretended to laugh and twirled your hair between dark red manicured fingernails. “It’s beautiful. I like the color. But why sit on that car if yours is the Camaro?” You pouted.

He sat up at that, and you gleaned a sense of pride in your compliment by the way he puffed out his chest and smirked. “I’m gonna challenge this guy to a street race. I’d see you there, right? I think I’d remember your face if I’d seen you around here before.”

You laughed again. “I think you’ll have to.” You replied, stepping closer until your lips were inches away, reaching around him with your keys, you unlocked the door to your Vette.

His eyes widened in recognition, and his mouth fell open slightly.

Lifting one finger to his chin, you pressed upwards, closing his loud mouth. “I’ll race you, babe, but don’t get too sad when you lose, ‘kay? 2:00pm this Sunday on Elm sound good to you? Unless you’ve got church…a straight edged boy like you?” You smiled smugly.

He merely nodded, laughing slightly, though all confidence was lost.

You had that effect on men.

You opened your door on his ass, nudging him away, and unlatching the top of your convertible from the trunk, opening it, and unlatching and folding the entire thing back into the trunk again.

Getting in, you put on your sunglasses and blew him a kiss, squealing your tires as you floored it.

Billy Hargrove watched the new girl drive off, the sound of squealing tires quickly being replaced by the “ooh’s” and whistles of his peers at her challenging attitude to him. The feeling of surprise and awe was now overshadowed by the unmistakable feeling of his denim jeans being significantly tighter, and he made his way to his own vehicle.

This was going to be a long rest of the week.

-🏁-

I know I have other part 2s to make but part 2 to this fic will be out sooner than the others. I do what I want, where I want, when I want, how I want! It’s a curse, really.

Anyways, I hoped yall liked this. I totally dropped elements of me in this as I have a 75 Vette myself, and while it needs work done, I still love it with all of my heart.

#fanfic #x reader #stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy stranger things #Spotify

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Hank Voight x IAD!Reader

Synopsis: reader is an IAD an agent tracking Voight, but when Voight is gentle with a child, reader has second thoughts, later, when reader later gets into trouble, Voight is there for them.

TW: mentions of abuse, rape and suicide

Voight knew something was up. He was perceptive like that - smart. He knew you were tailing him when he ran a red light on purpose. It meant you had to stop. To not seem suspicious. Good thing you had his GPS location.

You continued tailing him as he drove. Originally, he seemed to be heading home, but now he was leading you away, to the outskirts of the city. You considered for a moment, asking yourself whether you should keep on him or just let him go and cut it as a loss. He was moving further and further out of the city, and seemed to be moving toward the silos.

You followed.

When you arrived, he was leaning against the side of his SUV, hands crossed over his chest. He watched as your car pulled up, his eyes staring into your soul, or so you felt, despite him not being able to see you yet.

You let out a soft breath, then got out of your car, walking around to the other side. “Sergeant Hank Voight,” you said with a hum. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

“You could’ve come to my office, you know. You didn’t have to follow me all the way out here.”

“This is where you buried Kevin Bingham, right?” You abruptly changed the subject, cocking an eyebrow.

“If you know about that, then I’m sure you’ve read the report. There wasn’t any body found here.”

“It’s really funny how your buddy took the fall for that. Shame he had to lose his life over it.”

Voight visibly tensed, and you knew you hit a nerve. He looked you over. “Do you have a point to this?”

“I’m (Y/N), your new IAD agent.”

“And?” He looked back up to your eyes. “What is it you want? Doesn’t it say in my file that I don’t make deals with IAD anymore?”

You hummed, then nodded, taking a step closer to him. “Your file… has a lot of interesting things. The last few IAD agents ended up either resigning or arrested, right? Trust me, you won’t run me away.”

His lips pulled into a sly smile. “We’ll see how you feel about that in a few months. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

With that, the both of you got into your vehicles and parted ways. You were ready for the challenge that was Hank Voight. You were going to be the one to catch him in the act.

— —

The day finally came when Voight made a mistake. Looking over a few of his arrest reports, some things didn’t line up. You studied them, and recreated the cases as closely as you could, tracking his every move. You knew none of his team would flip on him to tell you what happened for sure, but you had dirt on a few of the beat cops that had been around. You could piece together a timeline based on their statements and what you knew. “Gotcha,” you whispered, before gathering everything and putting it into a neat case file, a small smirk pulling at your lips. Finally, you’d gotten Voight. Finally, you’d take him out of his job.

.

When you arrived on scene to find him, you had every intention of making a huge show of his arrest. However, after talking to his people, you realized Voight was inside a house they’d previously thought to be rigged with a bomb. Bomb squad confirmed it was safe and Voight had gone inside. You couldn’t be stopped by any of the nearby officers, simply opening the door to step inside.

The sight all but shocked you. A boy, sitting in a taped square with a laser pointer on his chest. He was upset, saying how he couldn’t leave the square otherwise the house would explode. One of the detectives, Upton, was sitting on the opposite side of the room. Voight was crouching, facing toward the boy. His back was to you, but he focused on giving the boy soft reassurance that there was no bomb.

Something inside you crumbled, tears brimming your eyes. Just like when you were little and scared, mistreated by people, and someone, a cop, came to your rescue. Voight was rescuing the little boy. You couldn’t help but melt at the sight. You watched intently as Vought coaxed the boy up and out of the square, then embraced him tightly, as if he were his own son.

With that, you swallowed hard and walked out of the house quickly, getting in your car and leaving without a word or even a look to anyone. How could you arrest him now? Knowing how gentle he was, and knowing that he really only did hurt bad people, how could you be so cold hearted? He saved so many women and children over the years. How could you take him off the streets?

You couldn’t, and Voight knew it. It was your weakness.

— —

“Hey, you work with that Voight character from the 21st, right?”

You glanced up at his name. He’d been more of a side project the last few months. You documented everything but took on other projects, ones that didn’t put as much guilt on your heart. “Yeah, I’m on Voight. What’s going on?”

“You’re going to want to see this.” Your coworker walked in and handed you a file speculating Voight shot a perpetrator out of revenge - an unarmed perpetrator, to be precise. All of the video in the file showed Voight shooting the man point blank. You nearly cringed, thanking your coworker and shooing them away.

You knew you could get Voight on this, but it weighed heavily on you. You needed to get a meeting with him, off the books, right away.

.

Later that night, you stood outside in the Chicago cold. Your eyes ran over the water, searching for answers. You still had no idea what to do. Do you take him in? Or, do you let him continue to go off the rails? Isn’t that why you have a job in the first place?

Voight wasn’t like other cops you worked with. He was older and more experienced, but most of all, he had this knack for always getting a specific outcome - one that always protected himself, even at the cost of others. Alvin Olinsky came to your mind pretty quickly as you pondered it. You hadn’t been on the case, but reading over the case files was the better part of your first week in the role. Olinsky had died in Voight’s place, to protect Voight from jail time and losing his job. To keep the intelligence unit alive.

You were pulled out of thought as an SUV rolled up, LEDs flashing past you, then turning off. He got out and walked over, his hands in his jacket pockets. “What was so important?”

You hummed and handed him the Manila folder of evidence. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s on book. Yet. This conversation will determine if this little ‘incident’ is included in the report.” You hummed as you gave Voight the ultimatum, taking the folder back when he was finished with it.

“You know, the last people to hang things over my head like this ended up in jail.”

“I’m clean, Voight. There’s nothing you can put me in on. Besides, I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?” He laughed mockingly. “Help me with what? I don’t need your help.”

“You do, because if anyone sees the footage on that disk, you’ll be doing life for murder.” You shook your head. “Like I said, nothing is on book yet.”

“So what’s your bargain, then?”

You looked back out over the water, taking it in for a moment before looking back to him. “You owe me. That’s all.”

Voight considered it, looking you over. “So that’s it? All you want is a favor in the bank?”

“Mmhm,” you affirmed quietly. “Can you manage that?”

“And what will happen to that footage?”

You turned back to the water, leaning on the railing. “It’ll show exactly what it needs to, making this whole thing cut and dry.”

Voight moved beside you, also leaning over the railing to look out to the water. “Alright, then. I owe you.”

You nodded a little, standing at the water for a minute more, though you weren’t sure why. You moved to stand, but his voice kept you in place. “That guy orchestrated the kill on Al.”

You didn’t look up. “I know. That’s why you’re being investigated like this. You and Al were close. There are a lot of people higher than me that want to put you away.”

“And you don’t?”

You sighed, looking to him now. “I came to arrest you a few months ago. Something petty you probably could’ve weaseled your way out of anyways. I wanted to be the one to take the trophy. To make a big show of it.” You shook your head, looking him over as he met your eyes. “And then I saw you with that little boy. I reevaluated. What was truly important? The methods in which things are done, or the people that are ultimately saved?” You shrugged a little.

“That’s why you’ve been off my back, then? Had my file tossed to the side?”

“I’ve still been collecting and doing my job. There’s just not much to go on. You cover your tracks really well.”

Voight hummed and looked back out to the water. “You know, I’ve looked into you, too. I have favors in the ivory tower.”

“I know,” you replied with a soft shrug. “I have nothing to hide. You could’ve asked me anything.”

“That’s exactly what they told me,” he said with a soft chuckle, standing upright now to face you. “But, I did read into your file, and your history. I even talked to Officer Buchanan.”

You nodded, looking away at the name as you remembered him. The man who had saved your life. The officer who had rolled onto the scene first when you were on the ledge, trying to find the courage to jump.

Every fiber of self-preservation in your body told you not to, but your mind pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You wanted to die. You needed to. You were a burden. You swallowed a sob, tears streaking down your cheeks. You heard a door behind you open, and you looked back to see a single CPD officer. He was standing in the doorway, putting his hands up. “Hey, I just want to talk.”

“I’m done talking. Nobody listens. It’s too late now. People should’ve listened when I spoke up years ago!” You sobbed, shaking your head. You were 25, and had been mistreated for years. Nobody listened to you, seeing as you were the spouse of a politician. “Leave me alone. Just go back to where you came from. It’s too late for me.” You wiped the tears from your eyes, your entire body trembling.

“It’s not too late. It never is. I’m here to listen to you now. I wish I’d met you earlier. I would’ve listened. Sometimes all it takes is the right person.”

For over an hour, you went back and forth with the officer, who you later learned was named Richard Buchanan. He became a close friend of yours after you got out of therapy, and even let you stay with him for a while until you got back on your feet. He lived alone, so your company was welcomed. He had never been married or had kids, thinking the job was too dangerous to put someone through the grief. You had mirrored that sentiment when you joined the academy, pushing away any and all romantic interests so you could focus on your job.

The beat was rough, but you had soon passed your detective test, and when you ended up permanently injured, you moved into Internal Affairs. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but you did it well.

You still visited Officer Buchanan on the third weekend of every month. You could barely believe Voight had talked to the man about you. You wondered exactly how that conversation had gone down. You looked to Voight as you pulled yourself back into reality, letting out a breath. “So, what then? You find any dirt on me besides trying to jump off a ledge when I was 25?”

“Nope,” Voight replied with a shrug, his eyes meeting yours. “Nothing substantial.”

You matched the hike of his shoulders and hummed. “Then I’ve got you, and you owe me a favor.”

“Alright,” he agreed, holding out his hand. You took it and shook firmly, then hummed and walked back to your car, manila folder still in hand. You took it away and to a friend, who doctored the footage to make it look like the man had reached for a gun. Then, you submitted your investigation a few days later as Voight having a clean shoot and no further action was taken. Having his favor in your back pocket would come in handy when you were ready to use it.

.

The morning after you’d submitted the clean report, an envelope was slipped beneath your door. You looked up, walking quickly to open your office door and see who could’ve slipped it, but nobody looked out of place. You furrowed your eyebrows, picking up the blank envelope and opening it to reveal a blank “thank you” card. It had no writing on it, nothing personalized, but you knew exactly who it was from. You smiled a little to yourself, then slipped it into your desk drawer.

— —

Over a year later, and you continued covering for Voight, but watching him to ensure he didn’t go off the rails all the same. You knew if he ever got in too deep, you wouldn’t be able to save him without going down yourself. You looked at the blank card and envelope often, even though all it said was “thank you” and some cheesy pre-printed message inside. It made you smile, and it was something you held on to. You hadn’t met with Voight again outside of official meetings when you had to investigate him or someone inside his unit. Of course, it always either came up clean or inconclusive for whatever reason.

That day, a call buzzed on your phone, pulling you away from witness reports on a beat cop case. You glanced to your phone, finding a familiar number on it, but you’d never saved the contact. You took the call, hearing “it’s time,” on the other end before they hung up. You grabbed your stuff and took furlough for the rest of the day, citing that your stomach was off.

That was an understatement.

Finally, it was time. Your stomach was in knots. You weren’t sure how to feel. It was all so bittersweet. You went to your house, dropping your car off and changing into clothes you hated - clothes you’d kept for years. You waited for nightfall, biding your time and getting everything ready as needed. You cleaned your gun, although you weren’t inclined to use it, it was in case something went wrong. You’d never done anything like this before, but studying Voight had given you a pretty good idea of how to cover your tracks.

You grabbed your knife set, still in the leather case, and put it into a small duffel bag, along with a change of clothes and some other things you’d need to get rid of the body. By the time nightfall arrived, a black car came up to your house, and you grabbed your duffel bag and left your house, getting into the car.

The man you knew from the phone drove you out of the city, right to the outskirts. An abandoned warehouse was there, where he was being held. Him, he who had abused you, raped you, and let you try to kill yourself. Him, who was so perfect in everyone else’s eyes. Him, who’d gotten away with it.

He won’t ever do it again. Not after today.

You’d been biding your time for years, over twenty years at this point. You were ready to do this. Ready to make him suffer the way you had long ago. You wanted him to feel pain. You wanted to take back what he had stolen from you long ago.

You got out of the car, watching as it drove away, then walked into the warehouse. You were on your own, now. What happened here stayed here. Nobody would ever know.

You walked in, seeing him tied to a chair and struggling to get loose, to no avail. You hummed and grabbed a crate, pushing it in front of him and sitting on it, letting your bag drop beside you. Your gun was in the back of your waistband, just in case, and you hummed as you watched him struggle. “Having fun?”

“You sick, psycho bitch!” He spat at you, still struggling to get out. “Fuck you!”

“You did, remember? You did it, over and over again, even when I asked you to stop. Even when I passed out, you kept going. Just to get yourself off.”

“Is that why you’re wearing that? I remember you had on the same thing the night you tried to jump. You should’ve done it.”

“Maybe, but then I wouldn’t be here to take the pleasure in this.” A dark smile creeped onto your face.

.

It was nearly 3AM when you were finished with him. When he couldn’t move anymore, when he begged you for mercy, when he laid limp on the floor, finally, you were finished. You took the gun from your waistband, bloody fingers gripping it as you knelt on top of him. “Good riddance,” you growled before finally giving him the mercy of death, putting a shot straight through his brain, and another through his heart.

Then, you picked up the shell casings and dug the bullets out of his limp body. You put them into a bag and set them aside. You pulled his body over to a tarp and began wrapping him up meticulously. As if you’d done it before.

You made good work of the body, then cleaned the blood before stripping off your clothes and changing into the fresh ones. You hauled everything out to a fire pit, where it had already been set up, dumping the body and your clothes into the pit and starting the fire. It burned and raged. The smell was terrible, but you somehow didn’t mind as you watched the flames dance, engulfing the man who had hurt you so badly.

As the fire went on, you heard a twig snap in the woods. You grabbed your now clean gun from your waist and turned quickly, just quick enough to see someone in a hoodie running away. “Shit,” you mumbled, debating as to whether you should stay with the body or run after the man. You decided on the latter, slinging your duffel bag across your body and bolting after the man who had seen you.

You chased him for about a mile before he got tired and you caught him, tackling him to the ground and holding the gun to his head. “Who are you?!”

“T-Travis!” He said, wincing and panting from running. “I-I-I’m sorry!”

“Sorry for what?!”

“Did you kill that guy? I-I didn’t mean to see you!”

“It’s your mistake,” you huffed, but before you could take care of the problem, you heard sirens and saw lights. You got up, pulling him with you at gunpoint. “Let’s go. And if you scream, you’re dead.”

The man agreed, shaking, probably high out of his mind judging by the skunk like stench radiating from him. After walking back toward your scene, you pushed him to his knees near a tree. “Stay here. If you move or scream, I’ll put a bullet in your head.” You huffed as he nodded, leaving him there and taking a few more steps toward the edge of the woods where you’d been earlier.

The fire department and police were there, trying to put out the fire. Your stomach dropped. “Oh fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, knowing it was only a matter of time before they figured out who was dead and who had done it. Your mouth ran dry and you felt like throwing up. Not only had it started to sink in that you’d mutilated, tortured, and killed someone, but you’d pretty much been caught now too.

You went back to the man, pulling him up and pulling him with you by the arm. He protested but you shushed him quickly as you ran. You ran out to the opposite side of the woods, then pushing him down next to another tree. You pulled out your cell phone, that had since been off, and turned it on. Then, you dialed the one person you could think of to get you out of this.

“Come on,” you mumbled. “Answer the phone.”

When he finally answered the phone, voice heavy with sleep, you swallowed hard, tears coming to your eyes. “You owe me,” you said sternly. “I need you. Now.”

A pause came over the phone as you waited in silence, then he spoke again. “Where are you?”

.

Some time later, you saw his car pull up. The man who was high had since fallen asleep, but you hadn’t stopped pacing. Voight pushed into the woods to find you, catching you and furrowing his brow. “Alright, tell me everything.”

You couldn’t help but let out a quiet sob, gun still in your hand, clenching it tightly. “Voight, I-I…” You swallowed hard. “This guy saw me and I-I didn’t want witnesses but then someone must’ve seen the fire and-and-“

“(Y/N),” he said, stern but soft as he reached out, gripping your shoulders to pull you back into reality. “Start from the beginning. Tell me everything so I can help.”

And so you did, telling him everything he needed to know to help. You cried softly as he held your shoulders, not knowing whether you should continue living or just shoot yourself here and now.

Voight held you as you spoke, then took the gun from your hand, putting it into his own waistband. Then, he pulled you into a tight hug, which made you break down further. Being in his arms made you feel safe, as if it were all a nightmare.

When he pulled away, he looked at you, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “It’s going to be alright. I’m going to keep your gun. Give me the shell casings and knives.”

You sniffled, handing him the entire duffel bag, then looking to the man who was sleeping. “What about him?”

Voight nodded. “You let me take care of it, all of it.”

“W-What do I do?”

“Don’t tell anyone anything. Business as usual.” He nodded to you. “Come on, go get into my car. I’ll take you home.”

You nodded and did as you were asked, sitting in the passenger seat. Voight took a few moments to wake up the high man and talk to him, then left him where he was. He put the evidence in the back seat, then sat in the driver’s seat beside you, nodding. “Everything’s gonna be alright, (Y/N). I promise.”

You swallowed hard, wiping your face as you tried to keep yourself together. “I can’t go home…”

“You have to,” he said with a small shrug. “It wouldn’t be right if you stayed with me, since you’re my IAD agent.”

You scoffed a little, shaking your head. “I don’t even care about all that,” you mumbled. “I’m only in IA because they won’t let me back in the field. I hate it there. Going after good cops? Screw my job. I want to quit.”

“You’re tired. It’s the grief talking,�� Voight replied. “Don’t do anything rash. Just go in tomorrow, business as usual.”

You sighed shakily and nodded. Voight dropped you off, but before you got out of his car, he grabbed your hand. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

You swallowed hard and looked up at him. “Thanks,” you mumbled, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“I owed you,” he replied softly with a small smile and a shrug. “Might as well go out helping someone I care about.”

You blushed, and with that, you leaned over again and kissed him softly. He reciprocated, gently putting his other hand on your thigh. You pulled back after a bit, a small smile pulling at your lips. “I care about you too.”

“I know,” he replied with a small nod, caressing your cheek. “I’d never let anything happen to you, favor or not.”

#chicago pd #x reader #fanfiction requests #hank voight #sargent hank voight #sergeant hank voight #chicagopd #hank voight x reader

[kjsnugget]

Chapter 7

Spencer reid x male reader x Derek Morgan

Genre: Angst

TW: mentions of mental illness, yelling, cursing, suicide.

A/n- sorry for the long wait guys here is chapter seven I will try to have chapter 8 out way sooner this time!!

———————————————————————————

It's been three days since anyone at work has seen you. No one wanting to overwhelm you. Your presence was missed by everyone who ever worked with you. Everyone knew you would be coming back today. Excitement was filling the full office that had been filled with silence while you were gone. The only noise was the sound of agents bustling about and the sound of pens on paper. Your desk had been empty, but not for long. Penelope had filled it with cards expressing how much she cared for you. Her heart was hurting from the events of the past months. She was angry. You deserved better then what was being given to you.

She had a hard time maintaining her happy personality as she watched you go through everything. She remembers when she found out Spencer cheated on you it was the first time she felt anger towards him. How could someone so smart have such an empty head? How could he possibly think any of this would play in his favor? You were a gem to be treated carefully and he didn't handle you with care. She was angry with Hotch for not telling you Emily was alive.

Deep down she knew it was his job but sometimes there were more important things then protocol. He could have saved you from so much pain. Everything that happened could have been avoided. She knew she would have to come to terms with everything and move on. For now she sat in front of the doors waiting anxiously for you to walk in.

It didn't take to long to see you and Derek strolling in hand in hand. She couldn't help the excitement that flowed out of her as the two of you walked in. She didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around you as well as scolding you for your choices. She noticed the smile that was usually plastered on your face was no longer the same as it was. You hugged her tightly but your brightness has been severely dulled. Looking to Derek for answers, she was met with silence, he would never air your feelings and business out without your permission. She knew he was looking out for you, however, her worry for you only grew.

Her and the others watched as you walked past your desk, Derek knew the happy moment you two shared days earlier would only distract you fer a short period of time. He knew the emotions would swirl back around and he wasn't going to tell you to handle them any other way then how you wanted to.  All he could do was prevent others from adding onto the stress that was already there. His eyes stay trained on you as you walked towards Hotchs office.

You knew a reprimand was in your future and you wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. You weren't angry for getting in trouble you made your own choices and they have consequences. You hated the fact you had no nerves bubbling in your stomach as you stood in front of your boss the feeling of numbness had taken over.

"M/n did you hear me?" His deep voice brought you out of your trance "no sir I'm sorry" you hated the habit you developed of dissociating from your reality that was tearing you apart. " I asked if you had anything to say about your actions" shaking your head in response he continued "well this is your first reprimand so it's a written reprimand on top of the verbal but I would like you to take leave for a few weeks" you unfortunately heard that part.

"What? No I don't need a vacation Hotch I'm good" the tight lip smile he did told you there wasn't a question in his statement "M/n you put yourself and your team in danger because of unresolved issues you have been dealing with the past few months" he was right but you wouldn't admit that " okay and I have been reprimanded for that! You didn't send Rossi on leave when he worked a case by himself or when Elle shot that unsub!" You didn't mean to raise your voice  but you were frustrated other then Derek this was all

you had and you didn't want to lose that to. "I know I didn't and I should have and I refuse to make those same mistakes with you. I will not lose another person I care about by not trusting myself" you heard where he was coming from but once again emotions can cloud judgment "this isn't fair Hotch"

The look in your eyes was the same one he had seen in Elle before she murdered someone. He would not repeat his mistakes " during and after your leave I'm setting up mandatory counseling session that you will attend if you want to keep your position on this team" he knew you would be angry he had expected it. He also knew later down the road you would thank him. He wanted you on the team, but he wanted you at your best and right now you weren't at your best. How could you be? For months life has thrown things at you left and right and you have not had time to process and heal from these events. He didn't feel comfortable sending you back in the field until he thought you were ready.

"When does my leave start?" He could hear the hoarseness in your voice a sign you were holding back tears. By the way your fist were tightened he could tell you weren't sad but angry. "It's effective immediately a minimum of three weeks, after that you are free to return upon receiving clearance from your counselor" he hated you being upset with him but he knew it was what's best for you. So he didn't take it personal when you stormed out of his office without saying another word. He could only hope he was doing the right thing.

Confusion rose in the bau as you stormed past everyone trying to make it to the door. Unfortunately you bumped into Spencer on your way out before he could say anything your words spilled out "just shut the fuck up Spencer and leave me alone" you didn't mean to snap but you were tired "I was just going to apologize for bumping into you" shaking your head "just move out of the way!" He was taken aback by your tone. He had been with you for years to know that you were on the verge of a breaking point.

"M/n are you okay?" Snapping your eyes up at him the coldness behind them scared him "am I okay? No Spencer I'm not okay and god I can't believe you have the nerve to even ask me that!" All you wanted to do was go home "I just noticed you seemed stressed I wanted to help" his words shouldn't have never left his mouth "help? You know what you could do to help? Stay the fuck out of my life Spencer. I hate you. Everything about you makes me sick to my stomach I wish we never met."

Rationality Spencer knew the words you threw at him were untrue, but it still hurt to hear them. He knew he hasn't done anything to deserve your love and respect but words still hurt him. Instead of replying he simply stepped aside as you walked away from him. He knew you needed space but he feared what you were capable of if you were on your own. So instead of following you he went to the only person who could keep you from doing stupid things. "Morgan we need to talk it's important"

Derek couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at Spencer's tone "what is it Reid I'm looking for m/n" mentally he rolled his eyes but that was unimportant at the moment despite things between him and Derek being rocky they could agree on one thing, you shouldn't be alone.

Once stepping into your home all the pent up anger had resurfaced. The anger you had tried to overcome wasn't gone it was only overlooked. You hadn't moved on and that was certainly coming out as the place you now called home began to look more of a mess. Glasses were shattered on walls, plates smashed on the floor, pictures of you and Emily broken, walls now bearing new holes. You hated how upset two people could make you but you knew deep down this was all becoming to much. How do you overcome something like this? All you wanted was to escape. So you did. Putting your phone on the counter you left. Leaving behind anything traceable you walked out the door with no plan of returning any time soon.

It didn't take long for Derek to rush home to check on you after hearing the news of your mandatory leave. He expected you to be upset this was the last thing you wanted. He did agree with Hotch that you needed time to heal properly. He worried for you, you were in a downward spiral and he was trying to pull you out of it. He knew when getting into a relationship with you that you had a lot of healing to do. He didn't get with you only for the good parts he wanted to be with you through the bad parts, be there to pick you up when you were down. He knows you would do the same so he would give you nothing less.

Walking into his home he was surprised to see the state it was in. The broken glass, broken frames, none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was your phone and belongings sitting on the counter. He knew you left them there and that scared him. You never left home without your wallet, keys or phone. Picking up his own phone he called the team hoping they could find you before you did something they couldn't fix.

The team stood on the other end of the phone each of them holding back tears. Deep down they knew why you left everything but they wouldn't let you get that far. As much anger was held towards him Spencer was one of the people who did in fact know the most about you. Emily followed behind as she had known you forever.  "Morgan I know it's hard but I need you to profile the scene, I'll send Emily to help. We are going to have to treat this as a case nothing else gets touched until we find him" holding back his own tears he agreed to help by profiling everything he knew about you.

Soon Emily arrived at your home, walking in she tried to hold her tears back. Seeing Derek with tears in his eyes she couldn't help but feel guilt as she looked at the broken home "morgan I~" shaking his head he didn't want to hear any of it "don't, just don't I don't want to hear the excuses"

"Morgan I had to go into witness protection for everyone's safety" he had been hearing the excuses since she got back and frankly he had grown tired of it "that's not the problem!" She knew everyone was upset with the situation but she also felt like this shouldn't be held against her as it was what was best for everyone "then what is!" Shaking his head in disbelief it amazed him no one could see the real problem.

"If anyone had the Right to know it was him! Not JJ! Not Hotch! Him! You have known him since you two were kids! Do you know how long he blamed himself for your death?! He never stopped!! He watched you die! He cried with your parents! Then after lost his relationship! So no the problem isn't you leaving it's that none of you understand some things are more important than this fucking Job!"

He was right you should have been the one to know she was alive. " I understand that Morgan but I had to Grieve all of you too" once again his head shook at her "no you knew we were all alive and safe. It's not the same kind of grief. He called your phone everyday to hear your voicemail and leave messages because it felt like talking to you. While he was grieving you he was being cheated on by someone he spent six years with he was just tossed aside. So no Emily it's not even close. You were living in Paris a whole new life while he was stuck picking up the pieces of the old on you left behind"

Before he could continue his yelling and shouting he noticed the broken pictures that laid on the floor. All of them were of you and Emily. None of the other pictures were touched "prentis this about you he is grieving your death. He only recently accepted you were gone it's possible he isn't accepting you're alive." She couldn't deny she was the root of the problem. In a way she blamed herself although she tried to convince herself it was for everyone's safety she knew that was untrue.

She did what she did best in situations where she got to uncomfortable. She would run in avoidance and convince herself it was what was best for everyone but truthfully it was what she thought what was best for her. She knew of you're past, the things you told her she knew the trauma that was hidden from others. She wonders if you ever told Derek or Spencer what you went through as a kid. She wonders if they knew you were battling depression since childhood. Do they know you're on medication? Do they know everything like she did? The answer was probably no.

See the thing about you was you would let your life dangle by a thread while holding someone else's up. You put everyone before yourself and never let anyone in on the emotions swirling within your own mind. You were such a good actor sometimes she forgot herself that you struggled with mental illness. It made herself questions whether or not she was a good friend for leaving you behind.

She stood in your home watching the flashing lights surround it as your lover profiled it. She looked around the room you occupied for majority of your time here. Going through your drawers she didn't realize how quickly she was throwing your things around. She was searching everywhere for a certain thing that she didn't realize the mess she was making. "Emily!" She ignored the calls of her friend as she continued searching. It wasn't until she found the full pill bottle that she let the tears slip.

You stopped taking your medication. Turning around she showed Derek the pill bottle "what is that?" Just as she thought you didn't tell him. She couldn't blame you it was something you weren't proud of. "His antidepressants. He hasn't been taking them" Derek had been confused. He knew you were struggling how could you not be? But why did you need pills for the months he had seen you were doing better. Right?

"Why does he need those I know the past months have been hard but I don't understand" shaking her head she tried to get the words out "M/n has severe clinical depression and ptsd he was diagnosed when he was a kid" Derek was trying to understand he really was he loved you "explain it please" he just wanted to help "he went through a lot as a kid and because of that he struggles with depression it can get really bad Derek" he didn't Like what he Was hearing "how bad Emily?" She didn't want to tell him how bad it could get. That answer was something she wanted to ignore "how bad!?" For once she was genuinely scared of what could happen. "It's bad Derek!" Both of them knew the meaning of her words. Neither of them hesitated to call the rest of the team to inform them on the news.

"Emily where would he go?" Derek didn't mean to sound accusatory but she would be the only one to know "I don't know!" He didn't mean to tell but this was very time sensitive "yes you do! You're supposed to be his best friend where would he go!" She thought back to all of your conversations, the late nights driving around town, the phone calls where you would rant to her, the late drunk nights in college, everytime you said the bridge showed the most beautiful view to sleep to. "He's at the bridge off of 4th street"

It didn't take long before the sound of rubber burning echoed through the streets. The whole team was rushing to you again. Some of them not knowing how dire the situation was. Without knowing the facts they could put pieces together as they could smell the burning of the tires as Hotch drove.

Arriving they quickly searched for you but it didn't take long to see you. You weren't standing on the ledge but sitting. No one questioning as you say there, it wasn't until they showed up people started to clear the bridge away from you. You never turned around to face them as you ignored the calls for you. You heard his voice the only source of peace you had the last few months. Your brain only told you the negatives about your relationship that had barley begun. Was it real or were you just trying to make yourself better.

Standing up you enjoyed the view of the sun setting as you stretched your body out. You could hear the commotion behind you but decided to ignore it. You're eyes focused on the sunset. You're mind went over the traumas you went through as you pictured losing Emily "m/n look at me" the images of spencer hitting you that night "m/n look at me!" The feelings of him cheating on you resurfacing "look at me damnit!" Then there's him. Finally your eyes locked as he stood behind you. Turning your body to face him you could only give him a small smile. You thought back to all of your time spent together "m/n please come down we can talk I can listen we can get through this"

The scene was heartbreaking as they knew the difficulty as you knew every strategy in the book. It felt like life was constantly testing their love for you and it has been at a constant road block to get to you. You couldn't hear any of their words you just listened to their voices as you felt your feet slip from the concrete holding you in place. For the first time you felt completely peaceful and comfortable as your eyes stayed locked on the sky before letting the ice cold water embrace you. The pins and needles numbing you quickly as you closed your eyes letting the water fill your lungs. Years of pain were finally being let go as you finally felt relaxed.

#criminal minds x male reader #spencer reid x male reader #criminal minds #derek morgan x male reader #bau x male reader #david rossi #derek morgan #emily prentiss #spencer reid

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds: Act II- Chapter Sixteen Hassun

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Crying, Implied Death, Court Scenes, Lying, a smidge of Jealousy, Desperation, Slight Possessiveness

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher

Twisted Minds Masterlist

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY -

 the speaker as MARION VEGA, prosecutor. She has the floor. A smiling assassin.

“Garret Jacob Hobbs, the Minnesota Shrike, killed young women who looked just like his daughter. He killed them and he ate them.” Vega pauses and looks at Will. He sits, shackled, with his attorney LEONARD BRAUER. JUDGE BERTRAND DAVIES straight ahead. An audience in the gallery. No jury. A bailiff stands guard. 

“Will Graham understood how Garret Jacob Hobbs thought, which is how he caught him. Shot Hobbs dead as he cut his daughter's throat. Will Graham and his partner Dr. Y/N L/N saved Abigail Hobbs's life. But this profile he created of her father was so vivid, he couldn't escape it. In an unconscious state, he killed three more young women.” She has a remote for a projector in her hand and she CLICKS it. The LIGHTS DIM. KER-CHUNK -- the lights flicker across Will's face as a slide changes on a screen. SLIDE: CASSIE BOYLE MOUNTED ON ANTLERS.

“Cassie Boyle.” KER-CHUNK -- MARISSA SCHUUR IMPALED ON ANTLERS.

“Marissa Schuur.” KER-CHUNK -- ABIGAIL HOBBS. Will looks down. 

“And Abigail Hobbs. Mr. Graham saved her from her father, but couldn't save her from himself. He killed her and ate her. At the very least, we know he ate her ear.” KER-CHUNK -- a ghastly image of the ear Will threw up.

“What he did with the rest of her is locked away in the recesses of Will Graham's traumatized mind, or so he would have you believe. Something else you should know about Will Graham. He's an eideteker. He has a remarkable visual memory. He is keenly insightful to the human condition and I would argue, the smartest person in this room. Capable of creating a psychological profile of a different kind of killer, one that would become his alibi.” 

COURTHOUSE - HALLWAY OUTSIDE THE COURTROOM - DAY-

JACK CRAWFORD paces, waiting. KADE PRURNELL approaches. “Moment of truth.”

“If I knew what the truth was.” Jack says as he prepares himself to take the stand. “There’s nothing wrong with your instincts.” Prurnell says as she looks him dead in the eyes. “My instincts have not yet arrived at conviction.” Jack says as his head bows towards the sky. “Mine have. With the benefit of no prior involvement and no personal connections to the accused.”

“Meaning, I can't be impartial.” Jack says softly and with slight understanding. 

“Of course you can be impartial. But right now, you're not. You have to believe something. As long as there is reason and evidence to believe. You have reason. You have evidence. Will Graham is playing a game.” Kade Prurnell is certain in her beliefs. The courtroom door opens and Jack turns, expecting to be called. His nerves evident. But it is just a bailiff exiting. Kade softens. “I understand why that would be hard for you to accept.”

“Let’s hear that theory.” Jack says with slight defiance and an unreadable expression, “It is easier to be a man who missed a friend's suffering than it is to be the head of Behavioral Sciences at the FBI who missed a killer standing right in front of him. There's a reason you're a witness for the prosecution, Agent Crawford.” Prurnell says with a cold gaze.  “What reason would that be?” Jack says as he meets her eyes with a cold gaze of his own. 

“If you can't represent your own beliefs, represent the Bureau's. Will Graham lied to the FBI. He lied to you. And you know it.” She holds his arm, reassuring, cheerleading. “Let yourself off the hook, Jack.”

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

Jack is on the stand. Mid-testimony. Vega in front of him, but Jack's eyes are on Will Graham. Will does not look away. There is a female bailiff on duty. I’m directly behind Will, I keep my eyes on Jack. “How did you meet Will Graham?” asks Ms. Vega

“I met him at the opening of the Evil Minds Research Museum. He disagreed with what we called it. He told me the title mythologized banal, cruel men who don't deserve to sound like supervillains.” 

“What was your first impression?”

“He was intelligent. And arrogant. And very likely on the spectrum.”

“Which is why he was never real FBI. He failed the screening procedures.”

“Yes.”

“But you felt he was qualified to work in the field.”

“Under my supervision. And with a Partner.” I look down at my lap with a clenched jaw. 

“You believed he was valuable because he can think like a killer?”

“He can think like anybody. He has pure empathy and projection. He can imprint profiles on the blank slate of his mind for us to read. Its one of the reasons I though Dr. L/N and him would work well together” I smile softly at the thought.

“Sounds like a supervillain. She points to a table in front of the bench. It is laden with marked evidence bags, dozens of them, including five fishhooks, for each of the victims.”

“Five horrendous murders. Over forty different pieces of forensic and physical evidence. That tell us Will Graham knows how to think like a killer because he is one.” Jack looks up at Prurnell and then at Will. Vega presses.

“Rather than being tormented by the work he did, Will Graham enjoyed the cover his role at the FBI gave him to commit his terrible crimes.”  Jack looks at Kade Prurnell. Then Jack looks at Will. “I don't believe that to be true.” Marion Vega is thrown off guard by that.

“Agent Crawford?” For Jack, this is a moment of clarity; he looks at Will, talking to him; committing to what he feels to be true. “Will hated every second of the work. Didn't fake that. He hated it and I kept making him do it.”

“Why then, when you gave him the opportunity to quit, did he refuse?”

“Because he was saving lives. I was warned by more than one person, including his partner Dr. L/N, if I pushed Will, I would break him. I put checks and balances in place, then ignored them. And here we are.” In the gallery, Prurnell looks saddened. She exits. Will stares at Jack on the witness stand, and Leonard Brauer can't hide a smile as he makes a note.

A PADDED ENVELOPE -- MARKED URGENT -- CARRIED BY A PARALEGAL - COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY

Where Will Graham is at the defense table with Brauer. Brauer is late 40s, cocksure and aware of his own abilities. “What does Jack Crawford drink? Because whatever it is, I need to send him a very expensive bottle.” Brauer says with a shiteating grin on his face. “He said I'm a killer because he drove me insane.”

“He paved the road for your defense.”

“He didn't say Will was innocent.” I say as I approach Will and His Lawyer. Brauer shakes his head. A pragmatist. “Innocence isn't a verdict, Dr. L/N. "Not guilty" is. This isn't law, it's advertising.” Brauer says as he looks to me. 

“Advertising trivializes, it manipulates, it's vulgar.” I say for Will. “Boo-hoo. So's the law. We have to create the desire to find you "not guilty," which does not exist in this courtroom. We're manipulating the consumer into buying something they don't need. They don't want your innocence. Unconsciousness in a pretty package, that I can sell.” The paralegal brings the envelope down to Brauer.

“Thank you.” The paralegal turns to leave and Brauer opens the envelope and takes out another envelope. He pulls open the second envelope. Shakes it over his legal pad.

“If I take the moral high ground with you, I'll get you killed.” SLO-MO as flakes of DRIED BLOOD drop like snow onto the pad – WILL GRAHAM -- his face falls -- BACK TO REAL TIME -- a HUMAN EAR drops onto the pad. Gray, spotted with DARK BLOOD around the rough edges of the incision. I gasp loudly and cover my mouth. 

“I think I opened your mail.”

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - NIGHT-

Hannibal and Y/N stand beside Jack, watching him thoughtfully. Jack absently listens as BEVERLY KATZ, BRIAN ZELLER, JIMMY PRICE work on the ear and the envelopes, reporting their findings. Lips move WITHOUT SOUND until their VOICES SLOWLY FADE IN. “Shrunken capillaries. The ear was cut from a corpse no more than forty-eight hours ago.” Zeller says as he gestures towards the ear.

“Before the trial started.” Bev says. “We fumed it all -- ear's clean, no prints on the envelopes besides the courier, paralegal and the lawyer.” Jimmy says as Hannibal leans over the ear in fascination. “One thing's for sure. Will Graham didn't do it.” I say from next to Hannibal. 

“Although, I wouldn't be surprised.” Zeller says with a distaste for My recently incarcerated Partner. “The timing is deliberate, choreographed to drop the ear at the start of Will's trial.” Jack points out as he ignores the distastful Zeller. “Such a gift has great significance.” Hannibal says as he place a hand on my Lower back, causing my breathing to hitch. 

“A "gift." From who?” Jack asks with a furrow of his brow. “Will claimed someone else committed the crimes he's accused of.” I say,  “He said that someone was Hannibal.” Jack says with a raised brow. “Perhaps he was half right.” Hannibal says as  Jack looks at Him, considers what he is saying. “You gotta be kidding me.”  the angry, impassioned Zeller --

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

...the DOORS OPEN and FREDDIE LOUNDS ENTER. Without ever fully revealing her face, leads her to the witness stand, favoring Will as she makes her way down the aisle. “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth.” Marion Vega questions Freddie Lounds, mid-testimony.

“Would you please describe your relationship with Abigail Hobbs?”

“It was sisterly. We were very close. I was helping her write a book about surviving her father.” 

“Did you ever discuss Will Graham with Abigail?” Did they ever when i spent time with Abigail she’d tell me about her interactions with Freddie Lounds. 

“Yes. She bonded with him after her father's death, even saw him as a father figure. Which he took advantage of until Abigail began to feel threatened by him.”

“Did Will Graham ever threaten you?”

“He told me it wasn't very smart to piss off a man who thought about killing people for a living. I believed him. I was terrified.” Bitch please. I was there, i could feel the cockiness and Arogance, but never fear nor terror. “You spend a lot of time with murderers and their victims. Why were you terrified?”

“Will Graham never struck me as a victim. He was something else.”

“Why was Abigail so afraid of him?”

“Her father killed young women as substitutes for her. She told me she was worried Will Graham wasn't interested in substitutes.” A catch of breath as Freddie's emotions suddenly catch her. What a wonderful Actress she is, able to get even the jury to choke up. I roll my eyes and Will turns around and looks at me then back at the stand. 

“This is all hearsay, your honor.”

“We'd argue excited utterance–”

“I'll allow it.” The judge remarks

“Abigail told me she believed Will Graham was going to kill her and cannibalize her like her father wanted to do. She was right. I should have listened to her.”

“You blame yourself for her death?”

“I blame Will Graham.” Freddie wipes her eyes. STARES Will down. And I almost walk up there and Knock her the fuck out.

“Your witness.” Brauer stands. “Miss Lounds, I've only been recently retained on this case, so forgive me for not having all the details. Can you remind me how many times you've been sued for libel?”

She Hesitates “Six.”

“Six. How many times did you settle?”

“Six.” She sighs her farce fading. “Six. Thank you. Nothing further.”

COURTHOUSE - CORRIDOR - DAY-

Jack Crawford standing in the center l he is blocking Freddie Lounds's path. “You and I spoke at length about Abigail Hobbs. You suspected her of complicity in her father's crimes.” Jack says with anger and suspicion. “I remember our discussion.” she says as she crosses her arms

“Just chose not to mention it.” Jack says with annoyance for the red head. “No one asked.” Freddie looks at Jack, deadly serious now. Real emotion. “Abigail was a frightened girl, who put her trust in Will Graham. And he killed her.”

“Your testimony made her death sound like it was premeditated.”

“Murder, Jack. Her murder.”

“Did that conversation with Abigail Hobbs ever happen?” Freddie stares, then: “You're looking after your friend. I'm looking after mine.”

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

Hannibal and Y/N face Will standing on his side of the bars. “It seems you have an admirer.” Hannibal says with a amused smile. 

“You think someone sent me an ear because they admire me?” Will asks confused, I look at him with soft eyes. “The boundaries of what's considered normal are getting narrower. Outside those boundaries, this may be intended as a helpful gesture.” I say to him. I want to reach out a hand but i know the guards would most likely stop me. And Hannibal keeps gracing his hand on my back.

“How far would you go to help me?” Will asks as he turns his head towards Hannibal. “It hadn't occurred to me to send you an ear. But I'm grateful and intrigued that someone has.” Hannibal says and he inconspiculously runs his fingers up and down my spine.

“Gratitude has a short half-life.”

“So can doubt. Our ideas are not set in stone. When exposed to new thoughts, they adapt into their most potent form. I have new thoughts about who you are. There may very well be another killer.” Hannibal says as him and Will lock eyes. 

“I want there to be.” Will says as he looks at me. “Some part of you still suspects me.” Hannibal says as he looks down at me then to Will.  “I don't know what anyone is capable of anymore. Even myself. I know there's no evidence against you.” Will says, i close my eyes and sigh.

“There never was.”

“Accusing you makes me look insane. I'm not insane. Not anymore.”

“You may not be guilty. Tell Us about your admirer, Will.” I ask as i step forward slightly.  “He's experienced. A sophisticated killer. He has a wit and a whimsy. Parodied the crimes We investigated so well We didn't know he was there. He's connected to me somehow. He knows me. Or thinks he does. He certainly knew about the cases.” Will says, i nod in agreement. 

“You could be describing me.” Hannibal says as he steps behind me. “I once thought I was.” Will says as he watches as Hannibals hands grace my shoulders. “This ear you were sent presents an opportunity, Will. If someone else is responsible for your crimes, perhaps he now wants to be seen.” I say, i know the killer is close. You could say they’re right behind me. 

“Why would he want to be seen now?” Will asks confused on this situation put at hand. “He cares what happens to you.” Will Graham holds Hannibal's gaze.

BSHCI - THERAPY HALL - DAY-

Y/N sits in a solitary chair opposite Will Graham locked into his therapy cage. Shafts of sunlight giving the space a cathedral feel. Leonard Brauer paces to one side. “I don't want the first time you do this to be in court. Dr. L/N, weren't you and the accused romantically involved?” I dont blink.

“How is that relevant to the case?” I ask, i really dont want my love life out into the court. “It's relevant to your testimony. In that court, your affections, your pro-anything Will Graham will be on trial. Get all starey and non-blinky like you did and it'll undermine you and me, but mainly him.” Brauer says as he looks at me.

“My testimony is based on my professional–” I say but am cut off  “You're smitten with the accused, Dr. L/N. It's adorable. But not our brand of defense.” Y/N looks caught.

“Marion Vega will smell it on you like you stepped in Young Adult and tracked it into the courtroom. Were you and Will Graham romantically involved?” I look at Will, then at Brauer; this is all so painful. “There was a Blooming relationship between me and Mr. Graham, yes.”

“How was it?” I again can't avoid looking at Will. Then at Brauer. “The advance came from Will. And i initially rejected it.”

“Because he was dangerous?”

“Because he was unstable.”

“What made you change your mind” I look at Will. My eyes say one thing, My words another. I looks at Brauer -- definite. “I don't have romantic feelings for Will Graham Anymore. I have a professional relationship.” That sits in the air. Brauer breaks it. Pleased.  “I like "professional Relationship." It's so... indifferent. Unless you look like you're lying when you say it. And you didnt, which will fool the jury. But we all know…”

“She was lying.” I am looking at Will, the painful truth of this hurts. The fact i have to lie or pretend that i dont Lov- is this what love is? Protecting with no remorse of the others that are affected. All i want is for Will to be Free. so that we can try to move on from this. We save lives together. But there's gonna be a day and age where we wont be the most innocent when it comes to blood shed. Like I even am at all.

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - NIGHT-

Jack Crawford, Zeller, Price and Katz are gathered around the ear. Looking seriously concerned and energized. “You've identified the ear?” Jack asks who is actively wondering where Y/N is. “We ID'd the knife that cut it off.”  Zeller says with a shrug of the shoulders. 

“It's Will Graham's. The blade matches the cuts on Abigail Hobbs's ear and on this one.” Beverly says as Jimmy Price zooms images of the two ears on a SCREEN.

“It was presenting in court as evidence. And then it went to the courthouse evidence room.” Beverly says. “It was checked out by a bailiff at the courthouse. Andrew Sykes. And it never went back.” Price says as JACK  as certainty grows in him. Energized.

FBI SUV - NIGHT-

Jack sits in the passenger seat of an FBI SUV, looking at a neat tract home, all lights dark. He raises a HANDSET.

“Go.”

BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

Shadows move out of shadows as two FBI AGENTS pause on either side of the front door. One nods at the other and he crowbars the lock – As the door FLIES OPEN – A BLUE SPARK A small electrical relay taped to the doorjamb is thrown and we follow the WIRE, taped down the floor and through the hall, into the next room. 

The wire reaches a black shape in the room and FLAME BLOOMS, blue and yellow, beautiful as it quickly spreads. A ROAR and a BURST OF ORANGE LIGHT as flames suddenly surge --

CLOSE -- the blossoming fire as it spreads, reflected up close in a staring EYE...

FBI SUV - BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT -

Sudden glow of fire fills the car window next to Jack's face, reflected, bathing Jack's face in HEAT and LIGHT as the darkness is chased from the windows of the house and FLAMES

can be seen -- Jack bursts from the SUV and the reflection disappears.

CRASH! The house windows shatter outward as the heat and flame inside builds. Jack shields his face as we hear the ROAR and RUSH of the fire --

BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT -

QUIET and a muted stillness -- the calm after the storm. A FIRE CREW is leaving, their job done. The house is still intact, but the windows are gone and the place is smoke-damaged. LOCAL COPS are putting up incident tape and turning it into a crime scene.

The house still SIGHS and GROANS from heat contraction. The interior is dark, eerie shadows thrown by work lanterns. Smoke hangs in the air and water drips. Jack navigates the burned home with a flashlight. His feet splash through gray puddles. Jack turns his flashlight into the lounge and his face tightens in grim horror. In his FLASHLIGHT BEAM we see a horrific tableau -- the CAUTERIZED BODY of the DEAD BAILIFFhas been IMPALED on the rack of a huge STAG'S HEAD.

JACK CRAWFORD -- he stares at the body like it is a personal insult.   SMOKE-BLACKENED FACE Torn into a permanent clown's mask. Burns can't hide what was done to the dead bailiff's face. Right ear missing, Glasgow smile cut into his cheeks. BEVERLY KATZ, up close

to the body --- as she tweezes trace evidence into a bag.

WORK LIGHTS now illuminate the mutilated corpse. His uniform is fused to his charred body. A badge and name tag, "Andrew Sykes," melted into his chest. Brian Zeller taps it with his tweezers. Jimmy Price comes from the front door, walking Jack, Y/N, and Hannibal through.

“Wanted to give us a warm welcome and still leave something to find.” 

“An arresting piece of theater.”  Hannibal says as he runs a gloved hand against the SOOT on the wall. Rubs it in his fingers and smells it. Hannibal approaches the body closely. Jimmy Price steps back to let him take it in. Hannibal slowly walks around the corpse on the stag's head.

“It's Will Graham's greatest hits.” Zeller says and i Glare harshly at him. “Are we addressing the elephant in the room? The charred, mutilated elephant right over there.” Jimmy says as he gestures towards the corpse. “Could we have been that wrong?” Jack asks us. I look at him with empathetic eyes. 

“About Will Graham? No. We couldn't. He practically took a selfie with each of his victims.” Zeller says and quite frankly im ready to knock him out…….or shoot him in the foot at the very least. Because his very biased opinion on Will Graham is gonna interfere with this investigation.

Hannibal watches the proceedings like a polite dinner guest watching a family argument, but not engaging in it. “The evidence we found was immediate and almost presentational. May as well have been gift-wrapped.” Bev says, she’s uttering the words of me and Will. 

“That's what You and Will said about Cassie Boyle when she was found in that field. "Field kabuki."” Jack says as he faces me. I nod as I try to keep cool. The utter amount of fear, Betrayal and grasping to life the victim had in his last moments was extremely hard to ignore. And Zeller pissing me off does not help in the slightest.

“There wasn't any evidence before Will was apprehended and there hasn't been any since.” I say with narrow eyes towards Zeller. “He ate a girl's ear. It was inside his stomach. God knows how much else of her was in there.” Zeller says as he stands up and leans towards me trying to act all menacing. But all it makes me feel is like he needs a good ass kicking. 

“Should've taken a stool sample.” Jimmy says softly.  “Knock it off.” Jack says to me and Zeller. 

“Tell me, Jack. What impact could this have on Will's trial?” Hannibal says as Jack considers the implications...

COURTHOUSE - DAY-

Jack Crawford and Kade Prurnell stand before the large, ornate desk of Judge Davies as he gets into his robes. “This murder raises serious doubts about the case against Will Graham.”

“Your team provided the evidence.” Judge Davies says with furrowed brows. “The overwhelming evidence.” Prurnell says with narrowed eyes. “Then you understand how significant it is for me to question it.” Jack says with gusto. “We heard your testimony, Agent Crawford. Are you sure you're not trying to assuage your own guilt.” Prurnell asks sarcastically and rudely. “Yes. I'm sure.”

“I'm not.”

“Why is it so important to you that Will Graham be found guilty?”

“I have no agenda here. What is important to me is the truth.”

“Andrew Sykes was mutilated in the exact manner Will Graham allegedly mutilated his victims. In ways that have not been made public.” Jack says as he is looking positive about his findings. “Will Graham isn't saying he didn't kill those people. His lawyer's running an unconsciousness defense. In effect, he's admitting the acts, just not the responsibility.” Prurnell says with large arm gestures

“Will has always maintained his innocence, despite gaps in memory. Whatever Brauer's strategy, this would offer a new line of defense.” Jack says almost Happily. “That's for Mr. Brauer to tell me, Agent Crawford, not you.” Judge Davies says, “Yes, your honor.” 

“If Mr. Brauer does bring up this murder, I will give him leeway to present it in evidence.”

“Thank you, your honor.” Jack risks a glance at Kade Prurnell, who meets his gaze.

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

“...Will Graham manifests publicly as an introverted personality. He would have us believe he places on the spectrum somewhere near Asperger's and autism. Yet, he also claims to have an empathy disorder.” Dr. Chilton is on the stand.

“You choose your words very carefully, Dr. Chilton. You chose the word "claims."”

“Will Graham has never been diagnosed. He won't allow anyone to test him. He has carefully

constructed a persona to hide his real nature from the world. He wears it so well, even Jack

Crawford couldn't see past it.”

“But you did?”

“Mr. Graham and I had no personal relationship for him to manipulate. I have objectively studied him and the crimes of which he is accused. These murders were measured and controlled. The confused man Will Graham presents to the world could not commit those crimes. Because that man is a fiction.”

“You discount the encephalitis he was suffering as a cause?”

“He managed his illness with the help of his neurologist, whom he murdered for his trouble.”

“Is Will Graham an intelligent psychopath?”

“There is not yet a name for whatever Will Graham is. He kills methodically and I believe he would kill again, given the opportunity.”

“Thank you, doctor. Your witness.” Brauer stands up.

“Dr. Chilton, Will Graham spent his time catching murderers for the FBI. You don't see a contradiction between that and the cold-blooded killer you describe?”

“No, I don't. Will Graham is driven by vanity and his own whims. He has a very high opinion of his intelligence. Ergo, he caught the other killers simply to prove he is smarter than all of them, too. Saving lives is just as arousing as ending them. He likes to play God.” Chilton smiles. Certain in his damning testimony.

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

Will Graham lies on his bunk. Somewhere off, a demented soul begins screaming in a repetitive wail. A mind in torment. Will stares into the ceiling as the wailing continues, unabated... Will closes his eyes. The cell block lies in darkness. Silence. A SUDDEN hollow CLANG as the bolt slides back in the CELL DOOR. Will Graham's EYES OPEN. Instantly awake. He looks to the cell door, which slowly opens. An invitation.

 BSHCI - CELL BLOCK - NIGHT-

A sound rises -- the hollow CLOP of hooves. Will peers and sees the BLACK STAG, night on night, as it slowly fades into the shadows at the end of the hall. Will follows it into the darkness, past empty cells, toward the end of the cell block where he can now see the GATE stands open. Will peers into the NURSES' STATION. Empty. Will walks toward the open GATE and up the stairs beyond.

“Will?”  Will turns to see Hannibal, amidst the shadows, standing at the door of his cell, pointing him back inside. A KLAXON SOUNDS, harsh in the silent dark. now behind Perspex. He is --

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY-

Hannibal  and Y/N stand outside the doors. Will shackled to the table within. The doors open and Y/N and Hannibal both ENTER. He pulls Y/N a seat then sits and pushes a file across the table to Will.

It slides across the table until it COMES INTO FOCUS. It's a wide shot of the BURNED HOME of Andrew Sykes -- his body on the stag's head in all its glory. Will looks at Hannibal, long and slow. Then he pulls the photo toward him, shackle chains rattling on the table. “My admirer?”

“What do you see?” He begins reading a forensic report and then turns back to the image of the crime scene: A WIDE SHOT of the burned room. Will grabs my Hand and  closes his eyes. I've realized we ground each other in our moments like these. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. I close my eyes as I feel his thumb stroking my hand. 

IN THE DARKNESS OF HIS MIND, A PENDULUM SWINGS. FWUM. The PENDULUM is now outside his head. It swings, wiping away Hannibal. FWUM. And the privacy room PLUNGES INTO DARKNESS. The CRIME SCENE PHOTO FILLS FRAME. Pull up and away from it to reveal Will STANDING IN DARKNESS. HE NOW STANDS IN THE ROOM in the picture, pre-fire/pre-murder. Hiding in shadow. We are --

BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

The bailiff ‘Y/N’ enters in her uniform, turning on a light. His Mind is playing tricks on him again, a cruel trick but a trick indeed. She sees Will. She KNOWS Will.

The STAG's HEAD stands in the center of the room. The bailiff looks confused. Before she can speak – “I shoot Mr. Sykes once, collapsing lungs, tearing through his heart's aorta and pulmonary arteries.” Will Graham raises a silenced handgun and SHOOTS the bailiff ‘Y/N’  square in the chest.

“He will die believing we were friends. It is his last thought.”  The bailiff's face falls in shock and blood blooms on the chest of her uniform... Will moves to the dying bailiff and, as she would fall, Will grabs him. LIFTS HER BODILY as Will swings Her, high and hard, down onto the stag's head. RAMP back to NORMAL SPEED as the antlers burst brutally from the bailiff's chest...

“His death isn't personal.” Will's hand, gloved, removes WILL'S POCKET KNIFE from the evidence bag. He stands over the gruesome dead bailiff ‘Y/N’. Will's face knots in effort as he starts to cut, ETCHING a GLASGOW SMILE. “He is merely the ink from which flows my poem.” He stands to reveal he has now cut off the RIGHT EAR. As it drops into an EVIDENCE BAG --“My tribute. This is my design.” Will Graham stares down at his work.

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY -

Will Graham as he looks up from the photographs to Hannibal stroking the back of a hyperventilating Y/N. Her Head buried into the crook of his neck. Obviously coming out of a panic attack. Will looks worried and goes to say something but Hannibal shakes his head. 

“It's not the same killer. He murdered his victim first, then mutilated him. Whether it's me he thinks he's copying or someone else, that's not how we roll.”

“How do you roll?”

“Cassie Boyle's lungs were removed when she was still breathing. Georgia Madchen was burned alive. What I found of Abigail was cut off while her heart was beating.”

“Then this is blunt reproduction?” Hannibal asks as he runs his fingers soothingly up and down Y/N's Spine. “You knew that already.” Will responds as he watches Hannibal's hands on his lover's body. “Would've liked to have been wrong.” Hannibal says as he watches Will’s eyes curiously. 

“Occam's broom. You intentionally ignored facts that refute your argument and hoped nobody noticed.” Will says with a raised brow. “You noticed. I wanted to dispel your doubts once and for all.” Hannibal admits as he strokes Y/N's Hair, “My doubts about what?”

“Me. I want you to believe in the best of me, Will. Just as I believe in the best of you. This crime offered us both reasonable doubt.”

“It offered us a distraction.”

“Maybe this acolyte has given you your path to freedom. Even Jack Crawford is ready to believe, Will.” Hannibal suggests

“It would be a lie.”

“No greater than the lie that binds you here, that claims you are guilty.” That lands on Will. “I must admit to selfish motives. I don't want you to be here.” Hannibal says shamelessly. “I don't want me to be here, either.” Will says as he reaches a hand to stroke Y/Ns arm, (Because that's what he could reach). 

“Then you have a choice. This killer wrote you a poem, Will. Are you going to let his love go to waste?” Hannibal says as he smirks on the inside as he smells the sweet aroma of Y/N’s hair. WILL GRAHAM ponders that choice as he Looks at his lover, His Butterfly --

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY-

Y/N is mid-discussion with Will Graham and Leonard Brauer. “We were heading one direction and now, we are heading another.” Brauer says with an enthusiastic smirk. “You're going to abandon your defense strategy, the entire case you've built... mid-trial.” I say flabbergasted at the current situation. 

“Exciting, isn't it?” Brauer says without a care. “This seems reasonable to you?” I ask completely and utterly once again Flabbergasted. “Not only reasonable, fashionable. There's a killer on the loose, demonstrating all the hallmarks of Will Graham's alleged murders. Somebody out there likes you.” Brauer says as he turns his attention to Will. 

“You suffered an illness whose brutality was matched only by its perversity. This happened to you, Will. We all saw it happen. Me and Hannibal saw the most.” I say as I grasp his hand softly. 

“I didn't see all of it.” Will says as he strokes my hand with his thumb. “I didn't see any of it.” Brauer says as I eye Brauer and decide to remain calm.

“It was cruel. And it was real. Do you think this killer committed the murders you're accused of?” I ask Will seriously, now i dont think this killer committed Will’s ‘Crimes’. But I do think another killer did.  “Don't answer that. Not in front of me. It's inconsequential.” Brauer says as he shook his head. 

“But is it true?” I ask, “You're being awfully high and mighty, Dr. L/N. Adorable, but high and mighty. Very ivory tower. Very reductive. Very far from the point, which is the exoneration of your ‘friend’ Will Graham.” What the actual hell is that supposed to mean. 

“And the point you're trying to make is reasonable doubt.” I say incredulously, “That's a win.” Brauer smirks. “Best you can hope for is mistrial.” I say confused at his motive. “Will Graham's alive. Also a win.”

“You won't be able to plead unconsciousness again.” I say worried about this. I dont want anything bad to happen to Will. I don't know what I would do if something did. “Your fast, triumphant diagnosis of unconsciousness was the best play we had. Now we have a better play. Needless to say, I won't be calling you to take the witness stand.”

“Who's taking the stand in my place?” I ask confused, I’m Will’s partner. What the hell is this fucker on about.

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY -

 Hannibal’s Eyes are straight ahead. As he walks forward – We hear the hollow CLOP of hooves coming closer... Will turns his head and sees only Hannibal in his smart suit as he moves past and toward the witness stand. Stay on Will.

“I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God…” Will turns 

Brauer stands before Hannibal Lecter. “Describe your relationship with Will Graham.”

“I was asked by Jack Crawford to monitor Will's emotional well-being while he consulted on cases. I was never officially his psychiatrist.”

“If you weren't his psychiatrist, what were you?”

.

“I was meant to be another part of Will's stability. I failed him in that.”

“How did you fail?”

“I was unable to determine if Will's condition was due to mental illness or stress from his work at the FBI.” Hannibal looks straight at Will. Holds his gaze. Jack and Y/N are in the gallery. Prurnell to one side of them. “My mistake was never considering his innocence. Until the murder of a bailiff from this courthouse.” Hannibal looks at Will and then at Jack. In the gallery, Prurnell turns to Jack Crawford. Hannibal locks eyes with Will. “How do you know this, Dr. Lecter?”

“I have been asked to consult on the case by Jack Crawford. He wanted a profile of the bailiff's killer.”

“You believe the bailiff's murder was committed by the same person guilty of Will Graham's alleged crimes?”

 Marion Vega stands. “Profiles aren't evidence, they're opinion. This is hearsay.”

“I'll allow it.”

“Thank you, your honor.”

“I believe there are alarming similarities in the crimes.” Hannibal says as he looks at the judge. “Will Graham accused you of the crimes for which he stands trial. And yet, here you are, testifying on his behalf for the defense.”

“Will rightfully couldn't accept these actions as his own. A mind faced with the possibility of committing such deeds finds an alternative reality to believe in.” 

“You don't blame him for that?”

“No. Will Graham is and will always be my friend.” Hannibal holds Will's gaze. “Your witness.”

Vega stands. “Dr. Lecter, what was the cause of death in the bailiff's murder?”

“A bullet to the heart.”

“And Will Graham's victims, alleged victims? Their cause of death?”

“Mutilation.”

“That's different than a bullet.”

“No two crimes of any killer are going to be exactly the same.” Hannibal says as he looks to Y/N, she’s looking at Him. Hoping that he does not damn her lover, Her partner. “Is it common for a killer's mode of operation to be wildly divergent?”

“Not common. Not unheard of either.”

“Your honor, the witness's personal beliefs and biases are driving his conclusions. These are clearly two different killers, two different cases. The prejudicial impact outweighs the probative value.”

“There is sufficient similarity to consider this defense on the issue.” Brauer says as he stands. 

“I'm ruling this defense inadmissable, Mr. Brauer. All previous testimony on the matter will be stricken from the record.” Judge Davies says. “Thank you, your honor.” Jack, Y/N react to the finality of the judge's statement. Hannibal glances at Will, an apology, then averts his eyes.

COURTHOUSE - HALLWAY - MORNING-

JANITOR pushing a motorized circular floor scrubber down the hall. He wears headphones and tinny ROCK MUSIC can be heard. He stops at the doors to our courtroom. Pushes them open and FLICKS ON THE LIGHTS. They illuminate the room and the janitor GASPS! 

Where the mighty seal once adorned the wall behind the bench, a terrible sight now is revealed. Judge Davies -- MUTILATED, hanging suspended from the hook that once held up the heavy plaque. His arms out sideways in a Christlike pose, supported by a wooden rod. He has been made into the iconic statue of Justice -- the top of his head is missing and bandages cover his eyes. He is holding a set of scales in one hand. 

Judge Davies’s BRAIN sits in one scale, his HEART in the other. The janitor stands, stunned, the tinny music still rapping a beat against his ears…

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

A CRIME SCENE in progress. Katz, Price and Zeller are processing the dead judge, Jack observing.  Hannibal  and Y/N are walking down the aisle, awestruck by the tableau. “Not only is justice blind, it is mindless and heartless.” Hannibal says as he looks ahead, I nod my head “No kidding” I say as I gaze at the macabre beauty of the literal metaphor of the image before me. 

“Judge was killed in his chambers, then hauled out here for display.” Jack says as he approaches me and Hannibal. “How did the killer get so close?” Hannibal asks. “There was no signs of a struggle. Mutilation was postmortem.” Bev says as she points it out. 

“He was shot in the chest just like the bailiff. Can't find the entry wound because he removed the heart.” Zeller says from beside the body. “But there's an exit wound. No slug. Must have took it with him.” Jimmy says smiling like he almost always is. “A trophy.” I say as  Jack averts his eyes from the death tableau. He speaks privately to Hannibal and I:

“I didn't know how much I wanted this to end, until it didn't. No verdict. No ending. It starts over. Right from the beginning. Like the trial never happened. Why?” Jack asks us, the psychiatrists. 

“Psychopathic violence is predominantly goal-oriented, a means to a very particular end.” Hannibal says and i nod in agreement. “The killer wanted a mistrial?” Jack asks with furrowed brows. 

“It's an elegant, if rather unorthodox, solution.” I say with a straight face and honestly im quite satisfied with the result because I now have more time to prove Will’s Innocence. “To what?” Jack asks me and Hannibal. 

“He spared Will a guilty verdict and, for the moment, spared Will's life.”  I say calmly and I feel shivers up my spine as Hannibal’s Hand grazes my lower back. “Is this the same killer? Or is Will still on trial in your mind?” Jack asks Hannibal, “I feel like St. Peter, denying Will a third time. Like you, I fear my hopes about him were wrong. I don't think it's the same killer.” Hannibal says as He looks past him and Jack turns to see Kade Prurnell in the doorway to the court. Taking in the terrible sight.

“Excuse me.” Jack leaves Hannibal and me and goes  to join her in the doorway to the court. They are silhouetted in the doorframe, as the crime scene work continues behind them.

BAU - FORENSICS LAB - DAY-

A WEB PAGE clicks up on screen. "Murda-bilia." It is a website dealing in murder memorabilia -- killers' signatures, former belongings, etc.: amateurish paintings, handwritten notes, creepy vials, that sort of thing. Jimmy Price turns away from the screen to reveal Jack, Y/N and Hannibal with Zeller and Katz.

“You want a signed Gacy painting, this is the guy who'll get you it. Name's Jonathan Mullion. I went through all of the bailiff's email traffic. Three messages he replied to were using a nym server which furnishes an untraceable address.” Jimmy says with a amused smile.

“Belonging to this guy Mullion.” Jack says as Beverly Katz looks at Jack, Hannibal, and Y/N. “We found an old partial print in Sykes's house. Not enough points to stand up in court, but it came back to Mullion. He was arrested for breaking into a murder scene and stealing artifacts.” Bev says as Zeller points to a report.

“Look at the date, Jack.” Zeller says as Jack looks at the report. His face falls. “Mullion was arrested in Florida. Same day Cassie Boyle was killed. There's no way he was in Minnesota.”

“Will Graham was in Minnesota.” Zeller says and i scoff, “Me and Hannibal were also in Minnesota when Cassie Boyle was murdered. But i don't see anyone throwing accusations at us.” I say angrily at Zeller. Jack looks at Hannibal. Saddened. “We got an address?”

MULLION'S APARTMENT - NIGHT-

A weird, dim single-room-occupancy apartment. We SLOWLY PAN over the walls and see strange outsider art- type stuff, amateurish paintings, handwritten notes, creepy vials; it’s serial killer memorabilia. A desk sits amid the clutter. A green glow from the laptop that sits above it. The SCREEN SAVER winks: "JUST SAYING HI TO THE FBI." Take in the crumpled paper on the desktop.

 Y/N, Hannibal, Zeller, Price and Katz are now in the room. Zeller, Price and Katz are

cataloging evidence. Beverly hands Jack a bound book. He opens it. Monograph on Time of Death by Insect Activity, by Will Graham. It is signed by the author. Jack sighs deeply. Hannibal stands over the laptop. Looks at the message winking on there.

“Poor Will. I fear his new friend has condemned him.” Hannibal moves away from the laptop. Just like that, as if by magic, a pair of folded EYEGLASSES sits by the laptop. Hannibal walks to the foreground as, behind him, we hear --

“Are these the judge's eyeglasses?”

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY -

A shaft of light. Will's hand wafts through it, turns as if to catch the light. Y/N sits opposite him. “I was hoping a verdict would've Helped. I can't exactly blame your lawyer.”

“Faith in any sort of legal justice has never been any more comforting than a nightlight.” Will says as he gazes Lovingly at me.“There are so many miscarriages of justice when it comes to identifying psychopaths. You could have easily been misdiagnosed.” I say as I bring my chair next to him rather than opposite of him. I’m tired of being away from him. “I've already been misdiagnosed.”

“Not by the court.”

“Not yet.”

“How are you feeling, Will?” I ask as I brush his hair out of his face with my fingers.

“I'm numb except for dreading the loss of numbness. I walked out of that courtroom and I could hear my blood like a hollow drumming of wings. I had the absurd feeling whoever this killer is, he walked out of that courtroom with me.” Will says as he places a hand on my thigh. “He didn't.” 

“He's going to reach out to me.”

“What does he want?”

“He wants to know me. What do you want?” He strokes my Thigh softly. She considers the question before answering simply: “I want you.” I say softly as i look him in the eyes as a single tear falls.

#hannibal nbc #hannigram #hannibal x reader #fem!reader #hannigram x reader #will graham x reader #twistedminds

[mommyhelgayanderelover]

Optimus is just inviting you to stay in his van because you're having trouble finding a place to live

Pairing: yandere! Optimus Prime x human reader

TW! a little sexual intercourse

"… and you're inviting me into the van? You think I'm going to say yes?" You looked at Optimus with great skepticism. "I know it's a part of you. I will not, God forgive me, live in and with you."

"It's a human van," Optimus sounded offended. "It was manufactured on Agent Fowler's orders for the mission."

"Uh-huh, yeah. And they also made a nano-alien design and put Autobot insignia on it. Believe it or not."

"You think I had a tractor-trailer uniform on Cybertron, too?"

"Well, I wouldn't know who you had there. Maybe you're like Megatron - pro working class."

"Look…"

"No, don't even talk me into it. Nope. No, no, no."

"Okay, let me put it another way," Optimus vented heavily, "what are you afraid of?"

"The fact that there are cameras all over this van and you're going to be collecting my nude photos and videos to electrocute them?"

"What makes you think I have to have you living in this van to get naked pictures of you?"

"What?"

"What?"

***

"Okay, okay. I will live in this van, but on one condition. "

"Anything for you."

"I'll bring whoever I want. And I'll sleep with whoever I want."

"What?"

"What?"

***

"Okay, Prime, joke's done and that's enough," Fowler sighed tiredly. "Where's the van? It's the Pentagon's newest development! Uncle Sam's gonna break my head off if I don't get it back today. "

"You see, Agent Fowler, he's busy right now."

"Yeah," you nodded, confirming Optimus' words.

"What, you turned a secret technology into a van on wheels, like an American backwater? Care to explain that!"

"…Also, Optimus had me there a couple times with his plugs. I wouldn't take an apartment like that back from a tenant. It's got bad energy."

"What?"

"What?"

***

You opened your eyes. Struggling to find your phone under your pillow, you glanced at the time. 3:04. What the hell were you doing up late last night? It seems like you were dreaming first, and then someone… Grabbed your leg?

You froze. All sensations were heightened to the extreme: indeed, right now, right there in the darkness, someone was slowly running something cold on your ankle. It was as if the bedside monster scary story had become flesh and blood.

Something ribbed wrapped around her leg, slowly stroking it…. Finding the courage, you turned on the flashlight on your phone.

Nothing.

Both feet were under the blanket, warm and cozy. The van remained silent.

"What the hell…" you reprimanded. Fear clung to her soul with slimy tentacles. No one could be inside the van! It was impossible to get in from the outside without a special key. "It's the nerves. It's the nerves. The loneliness is weighing on you."

Turning off the light, you tried to sleep. The minutes flowed lazily, and the darkness was suffocating. Subconsciously you waited for an attack.

Nothing happened. Your tired brain gave the command to shut down, but somewhere between sleep and reality, you felt a touch. Something still as cold and ribbed touched your stomach through the loose fabric of your T-shirt.

Forcing herself to wake up abruptly was impossible. Fear gripped your body. You froze, and didn't even seem to be breathing. How long it lasted, you didn't know, but at some point, your consciousness left you.

***

"What's wrong with this van?"

You stared intently at Agent Fowler and Optimus. Both looked unfazed.

"What are you talking about, sweetheart? It's just a van. Yeah, it's armored, sure, but there's nothing in there to hurt you. You wanted to live, live."

"What do you say, Optimus?"

"I don't know what you mean. If you're scared of being alone, you can move into my compartment."

"Yeah, yeah. The plugs are better than the connector. Still."

"What?"

"What?"

#optimus prime #reader insert #transformers #optimus #optimus x human #optimus x reader #optimus x you #yandere #transformers prime #dubcon