#((I need you to know it took all of my willpower to not laugh during class when this came in))

[swordsman-but-pokemon]

❤️- For a secret crush @professor-mystic

Aw fuck I do I really have to?

I really, really hope she doesn’t see this… I think I would actually die.

I have a really, really bad crush on Yoshida. For the love of everything DO NOT tell her please

[ramp-it-up]

Customer Service

Paring: Chris Evans x Interior Designer Reader

Word count: around 3K

Summary: Chris needs you to complete what is missing in his bedroom decor.

Warnings: 18+ Absolutely MINORS DNI. RPF, SMUTTY SMUT, ANGST. Not Beta’d. Pining, employer/employee relationship, up skirting (w/consent?), white panty kink, fingering, oral sex (f receiving) squirting, graphic mirror sex, p in v, sex standing up, creampie, good girl kink, Dom Chris if you squint, implied blow job. Unprotected sex. (Wrap if you tap).

Author’s note: I guess maybe I’m back? Idk. It’s been a while. Let me know what you think.

Notice: I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

DO NOT COPY, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK

“Did you just ask me if I… Wanna do you in your bedroom?”

Your eyes were wide and you’d nearly choked on your drink, not believing what he’d just asked you. 

Chris guffawed loudly, causing everyone to either look over or shake their heads, used to his expressions of mirth.

“Wow. Freudian slip much?”

“Fuck you, Chris.” 

You rolled your eyes as you took another gulp, a little bit mortified.

“Hmmmm. There it goes again.”

He grabbed your hand as you walked away, pulling you back to where you were. You were heated and Chris seemed to be enjoying it. He always teased you every time you were around.

“Calm down, Gorgeous, I’m just messing with you. What I meant was, do you want to redecorate my bedroom? You did a great job in here.” 

He indicated your mutual friend's basement, which you’d redesigned the past summer into a game/media/entertaining space. You looked around slowly, taking in every detail to which you’d paid close attention. 

Chris always found a reason to talk to you at your friend’s get togethers, eternally flirty, but you did not take it seriously. Although you were attracted to him, it was never the right time. Either you were taken, or the rumors were that he was. And anyway, it was just harmless fun. No way he’d be interested in you.

“Gorgeous.”

As your eyes came back to Chris, he was looking at you, and not the decor.  He cleared his throat and took another drink, eyes still on you.

“When I look around my bedroom, there just seems to be something missing. And so that leads me to you.”

You just stared at him, not wanting to respond this time. Chris took it as reticence.

“Come on. As a favor to me? Pwease?” 

Chris pouted and poked out his ruby red bottom lip. You laughed at him.

“You’re just a great big brat, aren’t you?” 

You sighed as he grinned knowingly.

”Ok. But it’s not a favor. It’s business. And I’m not cheap.”

Chris raised his eyebrow at you.

“Nothing that is worth having ever is.”

—-

Taking this gig seriously tested your willpower. During the frequent meetings in his bedroom, you’d had to hold yourself back from tackling him onto the huge bed and fucking his brains out. 

But that wasn’t professional.

So you’d remained strong and took in the details of this room, which only had a huge bed and stark white decor. He was right. It needed some color. 

You and he began the hunt all over New England for the perfect pieces to complete the look of his most intimate space, Chris wanting to use the new 4x4 pickup truck he’d bought soon after you were hired. Since he was between projects, you two spent a lot of time together, discussing design, among other things. He was a very involved client. 

And a perfect gentleman.

Until one crisp fall weekend, when everything changed.

Early that morning, Chris pulled up to your house to pick you up, not opening the door for you as he usually did when you climbed up into the truck.

“‘Lo. Gorgeous. You good?” 

Chris drawling his nickname for you in that Boston accent behind the wheel of a pickup truck was the subject of many of your fantasies. But you couldn’t let him catch you slipping.

His eyes skimmed up and down your body as you smoothed your dress down and settled in to put on your seatbelt. You looked at him as he stared at you.

“Good morning, Chris. I am. Are you?”

You crossed your legs, showcasing your legs and cowboy boots under your short corduroy dress. Chris’ eyes darkened and his jaw clenched and he moved toward you, then seemed to think better of it as he settled back into his seat.

“Just peachy.”

You wondered what his deal was, but you pushed down your feelings and got out your phone, checking your list of antique shops. After all, this was business. You could feel his eyes on you as he pulled out of your driveway and got on the road.

It was a beautiful drive, but there was a new, more dangerous tension between you as the morning progressed. and you felt that something was going to snap any minute. Chris was a man of few words today, responding to you with grunts and nods. There was something going on that you couldn’t name. It put you on edge.

The morning was tense, and as you entered the fourth shop before you circled back for lunch, Chris hung back, looking for a brass fireplace tool set as you searched for a wardrobe. You didn’t know it, but he was also checking for you as his eyes followed you throughout the store. 

You almost stumbled over the cause of your undoing. Chris was pure sex on legs in jeans and a flannel shirt, signature baseball cap on over his hair which was newly buzzed and a scruff of a beard growing back in. You were too distracted by thoughts of him to notice his reaction to you as you walked through the old shop, which was filled to the brim with treasures. 

Chris was watching your legs in the cowboy boots when you backed up to the object in question as you sized up a large piece of furniture.

“Ay, yo!”

You and the woman with gray in her hair looked up to see Chris give you a nod, full of arrogance and ownership. You were taken aback from across the shop as the owner smirked and looked back down to her ledger as Chris strode over to you, in full frat boy mode. His broad shoulders, slim hips and long legs made you feel some kind of way and you backed up further as he approached.

Chris took in your wide eyes and moved you with just his proximity, hands in his pockets as he looked down at you like some asshole at a college party. God, you hated how your body responded to him. But the way he made you feel was like nothing else in the world. Maybe you would say something when the job was done.

Maybe not.

Chris reached out to touch your arm and you stopped retreating, staring up into those clear blues shaded by the bill of his baseball cap as he smirked down at you. He looked into your eyes for a few seconds, and then down to your side and back up at you, eyes shining.

Curious, you looked down and saw a small oval shaped end table, it’s top a mirror. It came up to your mid thigh and gave Chris a perfect view up your dress. 

You shook your head at him, heart beating a mile a minute, but you didn’t move. Chris stared you down and spoke in a low tone which only you two could hear.

“I have to have that.”

He nodded down to the table, which reflected your ass back up to you both as you gazed down on it.

“You want it in your bedroom?”

Your voice was deep with desire as you asked the question. You were so close now, and looking up at him and his lips. You wondered how they would feel on your body.

“Want it. Need it. Bad.”

The way his voice broke a little bit was everything. There was no mistaking this conversation. You moaned a little yourself and cleared your throat.

“What are you going to do with it?”

The sexual tension was so high, you needed to climb over it and just do it.

Chris’s long lashes fanned his cheek as he looked down again and back up into your eyes.

“I’ll need to show you. In my bedroom. I imagine it will look good. Really good.”

Your breath hitched at the possibilities. You weren’t misreading any meaning this time.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Can you see the possibilities? Judging from what I see, I think you’re right there with me.”

You looked down to see that the vision of your soaked panties was plainly visible in the mirrored table top. There was no denying it. And you didn’t want to any more.

“You should get it.”

Chris gave a sexy side smile at your hoarse whisper.

“Oh. I intend to.”

Chris leaned down, his hand faintly brushing your thigh when he reached for the table. He smirked as he turned and headed toward the register.

You were too flustered to be able to breathe in the old store, so you walked out into the crisp fall air to catch your breath. You did not believe this was happening, and had almost convinced yourself that it hadn’t by the time Chris stalked out of the store, the table in hand. You climbed back into the truck as he put it in the back with the rest of the morning’s purchases. You tried in vain to stop thinking throughout the 20 minute drive.

When you arrived at his home, you jumped out of the truck, ready to call an Uber to take you home as he called to you from his door. 

“Y/N.” 

He nodded his head at you and you obeyed, following him into the house. You stopped in the living room, but was propelled forward as he jerked his head into his bedroom. You slowly moved forward, walking toward him and the table which he had put down near him in front of the bed.

“L-l-looks good.”

You were shook. You didn’t think you’d escape his bedroom untouched this time. And you didn’t think you wanted to.

“C’mere.”

Chris reached for your hand and you moved to give it to him. You two stared each other down, and then started to speak. At the same time.

“Chris,--”

“Y/N, am I–”

You both stopped and chuckled.

“You’re right–”

“Cause I gotta tell ya-” 

You stopped again, and Chris took off his hat, running his fingers through his hair. You just had to feel it between your fingers, and as you moved, he reached for you too, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you to him. You came together like a pair of magnets, unable to resist each other any longer.

Your first kiss was heady, teeth and tongue and lips acting out stored-up need. He kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. Then, he leaned his forehead against yours.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“Same. But I wasn’t sure you liked me like that.”

Chris shook his head and chuckled. 

“For a smart woman, you can be pretty clueless sometimes. Everyone knows how I feel about you.”

You shrugged your shoulders. 

“No one told me.”

Chris was looking at your lips.

“You’re right. I should have. Y/N, L/N. I like you. I like you a lot.”

He kissed you again and pulled back.

“And like I said. I want you. I’ve been wondering what was under that dress all day, hoping it was nothing.”

“Oh really?”

Chris pulled you flush against him, and turned you around. You could feel the steel rod in his pants, and see him looking down. The table was right behind you.

“Yes. But what I saw in this table was so much better.”

Chris looked down again. 

“White cotton panties. Do you know what that does to me?”

“No.” You smiled innocently. “What?”

You were enjoying the knowledge that you affected him.

“I had a dream about you this morning. White cotton panties against your beautiful skin. Almost busted a nut in my sleep like a fucking teenager.” 

Chris was kissing your neck now, and your hands rubbed the erection inside his jeans. 

“Woke up with the biggest hard on.”

You moaned. 

“For me?”

“Yeah. for you. Do you want it?”

Chris pressed his crotch into your palm. You tried to grasp it in vain over his clothes. Then you reached for his button.

“Fuck yeah.” 

You got his pants open and were able to feel the fullness of his member through his underwear. You licked your lips not wanting to split your lip on him, but wanting to try. He was looking down again.

“I know you’re wet, Gorgeous. Did I do that?”

Chris edged away from you and unbuttoned his flannel, threw it on the floor and then took off his t-shirt. How dare he ask that as he stood shirtless in front of you.

“You make me wet whenever you’re around, especially in this room.”

He moved toward you again, nodding.

“I get it. Usually I stroke one out before we meet. To keep my hands off you.”

You clenched as he pulled up your dress and pulled your panties tight between your folds. The friction was good, but somehow not enough. You wanted more.

“But this morning, I just let it ride. ‘S why I’m so wild right now. Tired of holding back..”

“Oh Chris…”

“Tell me no right now. And I will be able to stop. If not….” 

He literally growled into your ear. His hands were at your hips now and going north, moving your dress up your body. You arched into him.

“Don’t stop Chris.”

His face changed and his hands stripped your clothes off.

You were wearing a white lace camisole, and your nipples were clearly hard beneath it.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he said, as he pulled it up over your head.

He grabbed you and his mouth descended down your body, stopping to worship and torture your nipples. One hand slipped inside your panties and he teased your slit, rubbing your wetness around them. You tried not to press your against his hand, but you were too wanton.

“I want to suck your dick, Chris.”

He moaned as you stroked his cock, running your thumb across his sticky wet tip. He shuddered.

“God I want that too, Gorgeous. Wanna see you try to take it all.” 

His free fingers brushed your lips as his other hand teased inside your sopping hole.

“But first I’m going to taste you. Then I’m going to fuck you. And you will watch me do it.”

Before you knew it, your back was on the bed and Chris was on his knees in front of you, holding your legs open and staring at your pussy. Those eyes. Those lashes. Those lips as he licked them.

“Gorgeous.” He looked up at you. “Can I?”

You leaned up on your elbows, needing to see this.

“Please,” you begged, the anticipation getting to be too much.

Chris pushed your thighs wider to accommodate his shoulders and leaned in, hot breath fanning your lower lips as his mouth got near. He moved his hands close and pulled your pussy lips apart, the sound of your slick releasing as he separated you deliciously pornographic.  He licked up and down your slit, and leaned back, huffing with indignation.

“Shit this is delicious.”

He tasted you again.

“You can’t be this perfect.”

And again.

“Holy shit.”

And then he immersed his face fully into your cunt, lickiing, swiping, sucking with his lips and tongue. You grabbed his hair and tugged, causing him to moan into your already-wrecked hole.

“Oh god, Chris….”

He pulled back, smacking his lips.

“That’s right. Give it to me.”

He lifted his hand, rotating his palm up, and slid his middle finger into you.

“So fucking tight. This is just one finger. Gotta loosen up, Gorgeous. Eyes on me.”

He winked and started to eat you out again, locking eyes with you. His tongue went to town, flicking your sensitive nub.

“Pinch those nipples for me, Gorgeous. Hard. Like a good girl.” 

He spoke into your cunt and he looked down to watch you clench desperately around his digit. That’s when he slipped another in and started finger fucking you. Grinning, he leaned down again and took your clit between his teeth as he watched your fingers pinch and pull your breasts.

“Goo gul.” Good girl.

He spoke through your pussy, the vibrations of his voice coursing through you and causing the tight coil in your belly to snap and sending your release gushing into his face. He gladly took everything you gave him, lapping you up and groaning in gratitude. When your pulses slowed, he stood up and wiped his face with his t-shirt.

You stared at the ceiling, embarrassed that you came that hard, and all over him. Your cheeks were warm and you wouldn’t look his way.

“Hey.”

Chris was grabbing your hand. And bringing you upright, tilting your head up for a kiss. His eyes were full of admiration.

“I think I’m addicted to that shit. We’re going to have to do that again.”

He smiled down at you, and you smiled back as he walked you backwards to the table.

“But first, I gotta see this.”

Chris gently kicked your legs apart and positioned the table between them.

“Wanna see myself balls deep in your pretty little pussy from this angle,  Gorgeous.”

He walked behind you, trailing his hand on your torso as he nestled himself against your back.

“Now watch closely.”

You looked down and gasped. It was so graphic, and so fucking sexy. Chris was pumping his cock and swiping it between your wet folds, causing sparks of sensation to radiate through your body. Looking at it from this perspective was a unique experience.

“So fucking hot.”

Chris’s deep voice in your ear and the drops of your arousal on the mirror caused you to try and chase his cock for relief, but he just held your hip fast with his hand to keep you still. 

“Keep being my good girl, Gorgeous. Be patient.”

After listening to you keen in his ear as he leaned down to kiss your shoulder, he  couldn’t hold back any longer.

You moaned as you watched his huge cock breach your tiny hole from below. Your pussy started squeezing round him as he slowly stuffed himself inside you.    Chris’s hands were on your hips holding you down from take off as he thrust his pelvis. You groaned and threw your head back against his shoulder, not able to bear the image.

“Watch.”

Chris’s tone was laced with a little bit of danger. You clenched and he moaned, then smirked at your tell. He doubled down on the dom.

“Keep those fucking eyes open.”

You looked down and it took your breath away. You had the perfect view of Chris’s cock sleeking in and out of your cunt, balls tight against his unit.

“Now circle that clit. Lemme see that pretty little manicure help make you… “

You’d obeyed Chris immediately, and the vision of your chocolate manicured fingers parting your lips and rotating around your clit as his cock invading your tight channel was extremely erotic.

Chris looked down and saw his cock destroying you. He felt you beginning to spasm around him. He heard your sopping wet cunt and your sexy moans. He couldn’t take it.

“Shit that looks so, feels so, sounds so fucking good…”

“Oohhh!” 

You were near the edge. He sucked a hickey onto your neck as he lifted you off the ground with his thrusts. He hooked your leg over his elbow to help gain deeper access.

“Holy shit, taking me so fucking well. Gorgeous, look at it.”

“I can’t Chris, I… shit, holyyyyy, I’m gonna cum again. All over you, shittttt.”

Chris moved you slightly away from the mirror, but did not stop fucking you. He husked into your ear.

“Give it to me. Give it all to me and I’ll give it all to you. Gonna stuff this little pussy so full of my cum…”

“Ahhhh ahhh ah ahhhh!”

You came, body shuddering as Chris pounded into you. You felt the warm spurt of his cum hit your walls and you released as promised.

You opened your eyes and you were on  the floor, curled up in Chris’s arms as he sat on the rug at the foot of his bed. His hand was stroking your spine and you felt safe and warm. But anxious. You looked up at him.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe we did that.”

Chris kissed your nose.

“I can. Been dreaming of it for a long time. A couple of years. Since we first met.”

You were flabbergasted.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It never seemed to be the right time. But we’re here now.”

You smiled wide.

“Yeah. And I’m glad.”

Chris gave you a tender kiss and held you tighter. Then he got up and lifted you with him. 

“Time to shower and finish this bedroom.”

You tried to pull him toward the bathroom. But he didn’t budge.

“Or you can give me that blowjob you promised.”

You looked down to see Chris at half staff already.

“We’ve got time. Bedroom seems complete now anyway.”

That lopsided smile did something to your heart. You sank down on your knees.

“The customer is always right.”

Read the next part: One Per Customer

Let me know if it was good for you. Like, reblog, comment please! 🧡

[buckysbabygorl]

Deal (Bucky Barnes Fic)

Blunt Part 4

(Blunt Part 4, trust me the smut is VERY much on its way)

Part 3

Summary: Y/N finally shows, and Bucky feels more than rewarded for his patience

Being a soldier, you have to be sure.

You have to know your enemy, your team, you have to have the right skills and the right temperament for the job.

Is your aim dead on, do you know your location, did you check your six… every damn time you have to be one hundred percent sure.

Bucky knew right then, whiskey in hand with Tony at his side—he was damn sure that red was her fucking color.

That suit hugged her in all the right ways, hair down, heels high… and her eyes, staring right at him.

Bucky gulped.

“There’s my boys.” She called as she sauntered over.

“Do my eyes deceive me,” Tony purred, “or has Y/N L/N come out to play?”

“Oh I’ve come for much more than that.”

She perched herself on the barstool beside him, crossing one leg over the other. A signature of hers, Bucky had come to notice.

“I need a whiskey, and I need this god awful music changed.”

Tony waved to the bartender, tapping his glass for a refill. Holding up two fingers, signaling for another.

Looking at Barnes in his shell shock, Tony signaled for 3.

“My, my. Awfully bossy now that you’re off the clock.” Tony said.

She rolled her eyes, “I never pegged you to be against role reversal.”

“Role play I’m all for. I’ll let you play the captain tonight if it’ll get you to come out more. Speaking of…”

He smacked Barnes on the back to wake him the hell up.

“Bucky here is playing the role of depressed loner tonight, which is really riveting for all of us.”

She chuckled, and Bucky reminded himself to kick the shit out of Tony during training tomorrow.

Her eyes landed on him again, and she smiled.

“No ‘hi’ for me?” She purred.

Dear god, what was happening?

“You finished work?” He choked.

The bartender delivered their ryes, and Y/N swiftly raised the glass to her lips.

“Honestly?” She asked.

Bucky nodded.

She smiled, “No.”

Both men went wide eyed. She had to be joking.

“Are you shitting me?” Tony asked.

She laughed, “Don’t look so surprised. You begged me to come.”

“Of course I did. I just didn’t think you’d have the willpower to put down your damn tablet.”

Watching as she downed her glass, Bucky couldn’t muster a word. Who was this woman in front of him?

“Well… I thought about what you said. I never show, but I’m always good with the final details. I can’t control the outcome by rushing through the project. Handing something in a week before the deadline isn’t going to resolve things faster. Besides…”

She tapped her fingers on the top of the glass, and the bartender moved to make her another drink.

“I have more pressing matters here.”

Bucky couldn’t stop searching her eyes. Sam labelled her right a month back, Little Miss Wild Card.

“Like what?” Bucky asked.

Something in her eye turned. That glimpse of darkness he’d only seen when he took her glasses, standing inches apart from one another. His head was spinning.

“Well for starters, drinking Wilson under the table. Where is he?”

As if on cue, Sam came up behind her with a beer in hand.

“You wish.”

He slung an arm over her shoulder, and Bucky felt his stomach turn.

“I told you if you came, we were going hard. I’m keeping my eye on you to make you keep your promise.”

She grabbed her fresh drink and swiveled in her seat.

“I always keep my promises, you know that.”

Sam rambled on, and Bucky finished the drink given by Tony.

It’s not like it would do much, but he wouldn’t let booze go to waste.

Bucky realized too late how harsh the drink was. That was not whiskey. He looked up across the bar, seeing Thor at the other ended.

Thor raised his flask, pointing back at the soldier.

Hm, nice to know the God was looking out for him.

“Hey. Eyes on me, Sergeant.”

Bucky turned, Y/N looked at him pointedly.

He’d never get used to that. This different look she had about her, intense and daring.

She grinned cheekily, leaning in close.

Sam and Tony had begun their own challenge of drinking, yammering on about the happenings of the last party…

Somehow for a moment in this crowded room, he had her all to himself.

“What’s this I hear about you being a loner?”

Bucky pursed his lips, debating if honesty was his best policy. She’d blown off work to be here and gone so far as to admit it. He should return the favor.

“Honestly,” he rested himself against her shoulder, “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

Her gaze didn’t falter as she hummed, “Like I said to Wilson, I always keep my promises.”

“You didn’t.”

That phased her, tilting her head as Bucky twirled his glass.

“You told me you’d come when you got everything done, yet you wrote it off to be here.”

He ducked his lips to her ear, something he dare not try since his strong attempts a month ago. The liquor was giving him his confidence back.

“What are your pressing matters here, Y/N?”

She shocked him by turning her chin towards his, lips now a fraction of a distance apart.

She lingered, and he reveled in her proximity. What he would give to sit like this with her the whole night…

“I’m not one for subtlety. And with your actions this past month, I can tell neither are you.”

He was entranced by her voice, hypnotized at its sultry slowness. His heart pounded as he tried to read her, subtle-avoidant though she said, he hadn’t been able to pull much from her before tonight. A compliment, her riding declaration and her proposition of praise had been divine deliverances in themselves. But he worried that she was playing him, getting him back for his blunt flirtations.

No. She wouldn’t do that, she was honest. Though she was harsh and sharp, she wasn’t cruel.

Still… he feared he would lose out on something he never really had.

Bucky looked down as her hand reached for his thigh, and he tried to stifle a groan.

“I remember everything you’ve said to me, James. The praises of my character, my beauty, that you like a woman that takes charge, that you want to add me to your work out routine…”

She slid her hand up his thigh, his breath grew shaky.

“I thought it was just harmless flirting. I couldn’t tell what you really wanted.”

She rose from her stool, slowly reaching for his belt.

“I couldn’t let you know that I’ve wanted you since the first moment I laid my eyes on you.”

Now Bucky couldn’t breathe. He grew vastly aware just how many people were in the room. Sam and Tony only a few steps away, they could turn at any moment and see her wandering hands…

Jesus Christ, he wanted her now.

“But now I know. I came tonight for you, I don’t want to dance around it anymore James.”

And then she slid away.

It was like electrocution, his spine rippled and his skin was on fire. He almost rose out of his seat.

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” She waved to the bartender, another round for the four of them. “You and I, are going to socialize, dance, tell stories, drink…”

She slid their new glasses towards them.

“At midnight, I’ll say I have to wake up early and leave. You’ll leave shortly after, head to your room and you’ll find me there.”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek, hiding his lustful smirk.

Lifting her whiskey up, and urging him to do the same, she smiled.

“Then for the rest of the night, I’m yours.”

She clinked her glass against his, “We have a deal, Sergeant?”

He stopped himself from reaching out for her, instead mirroring her as she finished her glass.

“Deal.”

~

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[unhingedthirst]

for the smut prompt id love to see julian with 30 and or 93!! love your work <3

Thank you love! That means the world to me! You got it ! Hope it’s okay I combined them!

Minors DNI

Julian and female! Reader

Fluff and smut

CW: oral (male receiving), road head, dirty talk, Julian moaning like a lil bitch, drinking, cursing, car sex, choking, angst? Fluff? and unprotected p in v sex

93. “That’s good, baby, keep doing that.”

30. “Stay still, don’t move your hips.”

Julian knew that dating him couldn’t exactly be easy; he was constantly busy, in danger or in jail. He felt very lucky that you put up with him and his friends so often and that you’ve stuck around. He didn’t know what he’d do without you at this point. Julian walked out of the gates of the prison he had spent around 6 months in and saw you leaning against his car looking like a fucking mirage. Clad in a dress he’d never seen before you had been waiting for this moment but fantasizing about it constantly didn’t prepare you for how good it would actually feel to see his eyes light up when he saw you. He walked toward you trying to keep his cool but his gait was definitely faster than usual. His big hands met your hips and he hoisted you in the air “god I missed you” he practically purrs and presses a passionate kiss on your lips. It was eager and sloppy, you giggle into his mouth as your teeth clash. He Set you down and you gently brush your hand over his strong jawline “I missed you too handsome” you say trying to will yourself to stay calm

“Let’s go home” you say as you get into the car and hand him his drink. He really didn’t know what he would do without you. During the drive it felt like no time had passed since the last time you were together. “I finally finished Catcher In The Rye” he said as he rubbed his thumb over your knee. You smile softly as you hear that; you guys had been compiling books that you were reading together. Like your own little book club. “Yeah me too. I don’t get the hype.” He nods in agreement “I’ve seen Ricky do waaaay greasier shit than anything I read in that book” he states and you laugh shaking your head “I’ve seen /you\ do way greasier shit than that book” he cracks a small smile and takes a swig of his drink. You tell Julian about how J-roc is throwing a welcome back party and he shoots you a annoyed look “I didn’t do it. Don’t look at me like that” you quip and he sighs “I just wanna go home, bang and get drunk” you snort out a laugh because he sounds just like Ricky and he smacks your thigh lightly “don’t.” He warns and you throw your hands up in protest “I didn’t say anything Julian.” You say innocently. You expect some sort of smart ass response but he just keeps his eyes trained on the road and shifts uncomfortably.

You sit in a weird silence for a moment and then you speak again “Julian? Is everything ok?” You say in a hushed tone worried that something was wrong or that you said something to upset him. He takes a deep breathe and glances at you; you looked so good, smelled so good, sounded so good. He was so starved for you; he took a big gulp of his drink “you need to stop saying my name like that.” He says his voice going down a few octaves. You bite your lip in confusion and look at him for a moment “like what Jules?” You ask and place a hand on his shoulder; it takes all his willpower to not pull over and fuck you on the side of the road. “Like that.” He basically seethes “all sexy.” He continues and you roll your eyes “driving me insane. Is that dress new?” He asks his hand finding its place back on your thigh. You nod and lean back taking him all in.

He looked so good, he was bigger than the last time you saw him and his hair was longer. His blue eyes dilated either from the sunlight or the the fact he was touching your supple skin for the first time in 6 months. You reach over and start palming him through his signature blue jeans “it is a new dress handsome. I bought it just for you.” He felt his soul leave his body as you started touching him, it’s been so long. He could hardly focus on driving and only the heavenly touch of your hand on his hardening length. You watch him with tender eyes as you feel him growing under you “how bout some road head for my big strong handsome boyfriend huh?” Your voice was teasing but he couldn’t help get high off the compliments. He watches you as you unbuckle his belt and readjust yourself, you sit on your knees in a downward dog position as you start to pull his big cock out his pants. Julian was hanging on by a thread to keep this composure as his knuckles turn white as you start to take him in your mouth. He lets out a needy moan and you could feel a jolt of arousal hit you as you heard him.

The one perk of Julian going to jail is that after he gets out he’s extra needy and the sounds he made were divine. Loud and unashamed, none of his usual filter. You take his cock into the back of your throat and he grabs ahold of your hair “mmm.. fucking shit. Look at that.” He says as his eyes locked on you. You Bob your head and hollow your cheeks around his thick cock, relishing how he feels and tastes in your mouth. You hum around his cock and tap his thigh and pull off “Jules. The road.” You say and swirl your tongue around his sensitive tip as the moans keep falling out of his mouth. He took your advice though and kept his eyes on the road for the most part. You start focusing on massaging his cock head with your soft lips. The rest of his length was pumped with your hand because you know it drives him insane; your point proven when he moans out his head tipping back as his knuckles turn white “That’s good, baby, keep doing that.” The praise goes straight to your head and cunt as you take him fully again feeling him hit the back of your throat. You could feel him pull over as you swallow around his cock “mmm ffffuck pretty girl..Missed you so much. Missed your mouth.” He says desperately and bucks his hips up into your mouth making you gag slightly “sorry honey.” He says and pulls you off his cock a string of salvia still connecting you to his member.

You smile up at him “couldn’t focus?” You taunt as you take off you dress. Julian’s eyes widen as you watches you. He was always so tender and desperate after not seeing you for this long. It was the one time you felt like you were actually in charge but even know you know you weren’t. He watches you with hungry eyes not caring about the truckers honking as they pass by. You were his dream girl and he can’t believe you stayed. He has a hard time telling you all that stuff sometimes but he sure does show it. His hands find your waist and he tenderly runs his hands up your sides and land on your breasts as they are being freed from the confinement of your bra. It was almost too much to see him like this; the look in his eyes were ones of pure love, he looked at you like the most precious thing in the world. You press your lips into his and close your eyes enjoying the tenderness of the make out session. You crawl over and go to straddle his lap even though the space is tight. His cock was hard with his tip red and leaking. It had been awhile since he came, he didn’t like to do that kind of shit when he was locked up. He did it only when he actually felt like his cock was gonna fall off if he didn’t.

He reclines the seat so you can line yourself up with his cock. Sinking down onto him felt like heaven, you could feel him stretch you out as you left out a whimper “fuck babe. You are so big. God I missed your cock.” You mumble into his lips as you press against him. He moans grabs onto your hips “I am never leaving again. You feel so good.” Your eyes roll back into your head as your rolls your hips and he swears he’s never seen anything hotter. “How good do you feel baby? Talk to me. Whose cock did you miss?” He growls and places a hand at the base of your throat. Your legs were burning and your cunt aching as you bounced on his lap, your tits were too tempting for him to not start to suck and kiss. You were beyond words as very nerve in your body was lit up, but you tried anyway “oh god. I missed your cock Julian. Missed you. You look so good.” You put your hand on his hand that’s around your throat giving him permission to apply pressure. Your bouncing was getting sloppy from your impending orgasm as well as the over extortion of fucking your muscular boyfriend in his car. He squeezes your throat slightly and experimentally as he watches you moan and whimper; he did notice you struggle to keep pace so he places his other heavy hand on your hip “stay still, don’t move your hips.” He moans out and you comply happily. Before you knew it his hips were slamming up into you and you lean back in pleasure your back laying on his car horn, you both chuckle and you throw your hands over his shoulders to lay off the wheel. His pace was relentless and the way you felt around him. So slick, tight and hot. You could ask him for anything in the world in this moment and he would give it to you. He grabs your hair and pulls you onto his lips kissing you passionately and holding you close as he spills his load into your heat. “So hot Julian. You are so hot. Fuck I’m so close” you whimper and Rock into him as he’s coming down from his orgasm. He starts rubbing your clit with two big fingers in tight circles “cum for me honey. Come on.” He encourages and your body just gives out as you cum around him. You could feel a sob leave your mouth as your legs shake, he watches you in awe and rubs your thighs “so fucking greasy baby. You see what you do to me?” He teases and smacks your ass lightly. You roll your eyes as you kiss him gently before sliding off and sitting back in the passenger seat. “You are the one who had to pull over cause you were too horny to wait.” You say slip your dress back on with a giant smile on your face. He shakes his head and lights a cigarette “you were the one blowing me!” He says and passes you his drink, you took a swig and rub his right arm gently “okay Julian.” You say using your best porn star voice to tease him for him not being able to hand you saying his name. He shakes his head and starts to drive again “you really aren’t ever gonna get locked up again?” You say after a few minutes and he looks at you like you just kicked him but his eyes soften.

“I’m gonna try not too. Can’t leave you again.”

He was it for you. You were it for him.

[nicklesbam]

Lost memories

this is a short story of Kuina x female reader

SPOILERS if you haven't watched all of it

fluff, angst

As I lie here on the floor, all I'm thinking is 'please, please be ok'. The king of spades shot me down after Arisu and Aguni blew the store to pieces but somehow the only thing I'm worried about is if kuina is ok

Kuina was the first person I felt like I could trust full heartedly with my life. We met during my third game after she saved me, we haven't been apart after that

One day at the beach a realization struck me, I have feelings for her. We were sitting by the pool as usual and i just couldnt look away from her. Her eyes, her smile, the way her voice sounds so soothing or the way ahe voices her opinion no matter what. I couldn't handle the fear. Fear that she wouldn't feel the same, fear that she would end up hurt or even worse, dead

I couldn't keep my head on straight with her around so one night I packed my things and decided to leave. Before I made it out the door Chishiya stopped me

"Going out a little late are we?" He moved from the shadows making me jolt in panic

"Jesus Chishiya, I told you not to do that again" I put my hand over my heart. His face remained serious

"Are you going to explain?" He raised on of his brows. I stayed silent for a moment before finding the right words

"I can't garuntee my survival with her around" I spoke quietly. He hummed

"Kuina" he confirmed out loud. I sighed and hung my head low

"I... I have feelings for her and whenever she's around I just can't think straight. All I think about is making sure she's ok" Chishiya nodded putting his hands in his jacket pockets

"You aren't going to say goodbye?" He asked walling closer

"I can't, if I do I would change my mind." I grabbed my bag and turned to walk out but stopped one last time

"Just... please tell her I'll be ok" I didn't have to turn to know Chishiya had nodded. After that I went off on my way

In the end it was fates twisted joke that brought us together again. Almost everyone was brought together to take down the king of spades. As we both lay here kn the ground, one with stab wounds and one with bullet holes

I started to chuckle causing me to choke on my own blood. Kuina turned to me with hard breaths

"What's... so funny" she managed to get out. She started to cough up blood

"I left so this wouldn't happen. It happened anyways... funny right?" My breaths were labored. Kuina had a slight laugh

"I didn't want to see you like this, I love you too much" I stared at the sky while kuina's eyes were trained on me

"You... love me?" Kuina asked, I could hear her voice get more hoarse. I looked into her eyes

"Obviously" I smiled, blood now slipping past my mouth. I looked at her like I did the first.time I laid eyes on her

"I... love you.. too idiot" she smiled and reached out grabbing my hand

"Where do you think we'll go after this?" I questioned. She looked to the sky with a tear falling down

"Maybe home.. maybe heaven? Who knows" as she spoke I could feel myself slipping away. I tried to stay just for her but all of a sudden I stopped breathing and my face went stoic

I groaned waking up. I tried to sit up but there were multiple bandages on my abdomen

"What the fuck?" I looked at my surroundings and found I was in a hospital. I looked to my left and there was an empty bed. I decided to grab a wheel chair and find out what happened

It took a while to get into the wheel chair but I just used sheer stupidity and willpower. I wheeled around the hospital until I saw a TV in the lobby, on the news they were saying there was an explosion and I was caught in it. I sighed and rested for a minute

"Miss? You shouldn't be out of bed! You should be resting!" A nurse shouted worriedly

"I just wanted to see what happened, I'll be back there in a minute" I reassured her

"Why don't I help you?" She was about to wheel me back to the room but another emergency came in and she was needed. She told me she'd be back as soon as she can. I leaned back into my chair until I heard a familiar name

"Hikari" I turned and it was a girl with her two parents, looks like she was caught in the explosion too. I couldn't put my finger on it but I swear I know her from somewhere

I waited for the girl to have her time with her parents. I was about to wheel over when the nurse came back

"Alright miss y/n, time to go back to your bed" I didn't bother protesting, she's the nurse not me. Once we got to my room she helped me get into bed, it was a struggle but we got it done soon enough

"I'll be back to check up on you soon, rest now" I nodded. I had this feeling that I forgot something but I just can't remember. I was so stuck on this feeling that I didn't notice when someone came walking in

"Do i... know you?" It was the girl from the lobby, Hikari I think it was

"I don't think we met but.. I feel like I know you from somewhere" we both sat there for a minute, staring. It didn't feel weird for some reason

"I know this sounds weird and you can totally say no but do you want to hang out sometime?" I asked her. She smiled and her face had heated a bit

"Yeah that would be cool"

[inafieldofdaisies]

can you just look at me ,  please ? + Mercy x Jacob 💕

Prompt from this post.

Mercedes leaned back in Jacob's chair, swiveling lightly as she sent a quick look to the door, and then back to the newest poster, one of his men had hung up earlier that morning. She had no doubt his Chosen were scratching their heads, trying to figure out why the oldest Seed kept demanding they replace the missing propaganda day in and day out. Her hand reached out, grabbing one of the pens Jacob seemed to favor, and the second she began to rise up from her seat, the door suddenly swung open, then slammed shut with enough force to signal he wasn't in the greatest of moods. Couldn't have waited a couple of minutes, could you? I was about to add another masterpiece to the pile. Mercedes pursed her lips, dark eyes following Jacob as he sank down onto the couch and crossed his arms over his chest, staring straight ahead, completely ignoring her presence. She mirrored his position before letting out a dramatic sigh, "What happened, Jacob?" "Absolutely nothing, everything is just peachy. My day is going great, Mercedes.", he mumbled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "That, I can see."

"I was so close to telling him, putting an end to all this.", it took a lot of willpower for her to not laugh at his frown, at how serious he was taking Joseph's surprise visit and almost being caught in the heat of the moment, when all she felt was a thrill at the lurking danger and how he had seamlessly protected her. "Nonsense.", she replied instead, getting up from his chair and covering the distance between the desk and the couch. His blue eyes remained glued to the peeling paint on the wall across from him as she perched onto his knee, arms coming to rest over his shoulders. "Can you just look at me, please?", Mercedes broke the silence again, amusement laced into the question, hoping it would be enough to ease up his mood. Seconds ticked by until he finally complied, "He came to see you, you know?" The bitterness his voice carried was paired with another deep frown while his hands moved to her waist to keep her in place. Her dismissive shrug had no effect on getting rid of the tension, cording his muscles, "He came to see you, not me." "Bullshit." "Jacob." "He went to the cabin, couldn't find you there so he came here…" "Oh, so now you're telling me what's he's saying to you?" He shook his head, "He tells me nothing. That's a simple observation." "Sure.", she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the blatant lie, "And?" "You hid." Her fingers mindlessly traced the collar of his field jacket while she concentrated on taking apart his expression, trying to decide if she should push for more or placate him instead. "And?", she asked quietly, bitting down on her lip as she feigned confusion and successfully drew his eyes to them. "Why can't we just tell him?" "Like you don't already know what would happen if we do, Jacob." "He would know then. Know that you're mine." His hold of her tightened at the last bit, his gaze darkening the same way it had before they were rudely interrupted, and she had scrambled beneath the desk, out of sight. Doing her part at keeping their secret safe. "Have you paid any attention during his services? The rules…" "Like he follows-", his mouth snapped shut, refusing to let out whatever had almost slipped out. The truth. A long overdue onfirmation to her suspicions. She knew her methods worked, Jacob himself was a prime example of it. Joseph was on the hook, had been from the moment he had set his eyes on "Mercy". She just needed to know the full extent of it, so she could fully break him. "What?" "Nothing, forget it.", he retorted sharply, tone full of finality before his fingers found the zipper of her dress and slid it down, "Remind me…where did we leave off?" It was yet another attempt to distract her, to stop her pursuit for answers, and she was going to play along, let him think he had won.

[streets-in-paradise]

Certified Paranoid - Barclay Wheeler Family AU Oneshot

Word Count 800 words

Characters: Andy Barclay, Jake Wheeler, Junior Wheeler, Nica Pierce

Warnings: AU were Andy adopts Jake and Junior with some Andy x Nica added to the mix.

Notes: This is a short domestic scene i wrote when trying to distract myself during a heat wave.

Tags: @losersclubisms @series-thoughts

@silvershewolf247

It was the hottest day of the month in the middle of an intense summer that was altering everyone's moods. Spending winter in company wasn't as difficult for Andy as that abnormally hot summertime had been. They were uncomfortable, he was uncomfortable and no one had the willpower to lift a finger about it. 

Two fans in a living room that wasn't huge to start with and a man with two boys trying to find relief was quite a desperate sight. Andy was laying on the largest couch and Junior was on the floor, mimicking a similar position with the addition of a lifeless-like expression. On his part, Jake was moving in synchrony with the rotating movement of the fan that was closer to him. 

" Couldn't you pay some more and get a cabin near a lake?" Junior began to complain at some point in the afternoon. " We would be diving in cold water ríght now. " 

The wishfulness in his tone at the end of the sentence spoke for himself. 

" You picked the wrong side for luxuries, kid. " Andy frankly replied. " If you wanted that sort of shit you should have stayed with Tiffany. Chucky would have been glad of exchanging you for a TV on the post divorce division. " 

Jake laughed and his cousin wished he had anything close to throw at him, or the energy to do it. 

" Don't listen to him, that's just the rich kid inside of him speaking. " Jake deepened the mocks. "Junior wouldn't change you for a lake house. " 

" ... Well, my brain is slowly frying so excuse me if i say dumb shit. " 

"... The less he would trade you for is a Beverly Hills Manor." 

Junior seemed upset to the core and that got an energical reaction out of him.

" Now YOU are saying dumb shit, Jake! I have lived with Andy more than you and I have become an expert survivalist. I'm laying on the floor because it's colder, what is your strategy?" 

" Moving with the wind." 

Imagining the hilarious visual made Andy look at Jake and when he noticed it the boy exaggerated the motion to make him laugh. 

Junior took advantage of the small mood improvement. 

" Dad, can we get an air conditioner?" 

It was weird for Andy to be addressed like that, even more from him but not precisely because it was more emotional than usual. 

His kids always used to call him mom.

" Holy shit, Jun! Are you alright?" 

" I'M BURNING ALIVE!!!" Junior screamed, acting as if he was clumsily attempting to raise. " PLEASE, I BEG YOU" 

Both kids have secretly wondered all summer why they wouldn't have one already. 

" You need a certified technician for that. " The man hesitantly explained. " ... I don't like to have strangers at home. Why do you think I live in the woods?" 

Jake had a good answer for that. 

" So nobody in miles would hear the screaming ?" 

" We know you are the ' i do all on my own' guy, but we can't deal with this shit anymore. " Junior followed, making snarking escalate. " Save that energy for when you try to impress Nica by changing tires." 

Andy actively chose to ignore the last part. 

" Cooling the cabin is a process. If we wanna do it ríght, we need permits. What if someone sees something weird when they come to check the place for the install?"  

The excessive caution of that man knew no límits.

Jake needed to ask an obvious question regarding that extremism. 

" What's next? Are you going to tell us you are afraid Chucky could take his time to find out you solicited a permit, find our technician and possess them, come here and try to kill us all? " 

" I didn't have that in mind, but now that you mention it..." 

" Andy, you are a certified paranoid. " Junior added in the counter strike. " Normally I would say that is awesome, but now it's making us roast in our own fluids. " 

" Yeah, it's not like we can pray to Damballa for good weather. " 

Jake was just joking, but Junior thought it was a brilliant idea.

" Wait a sec... Everytime Chucky speaks to him, it starts raining. " 

" Don't fuck with that, dumbass. What are we gonna do if he demands a sacrifice? " 

" We have our first volunteer!" Junior cheered, ready to pretend he would go macabre. " Thank you, Jake. I will think of you once the air will be breathable again." 

They were coming up with crazier ideas each minute that the bickering lasted. Luckly, Nica showed up at the ríght moment. 

" Let's be rational. " She attempted to calm the boys down. " ... I'm sure Andy can kill a deer in our names and it would be just fine." 

Andy couldn't help laughing and she wheeled closer to him. 

One sweet smile of hers and he was done. 

" So... What should we try first? Getting a cooling system or the voodoo sacrifice?"

[jacepicableme]

ENTRY #3: My favorite shirt

Of the 5 love languages, acts of service hits home pretty close for me so it is almost on par with my numero uno, which is quality time. Then again, you exert time to be able to execute any service for that matter, so that's my semi-bullshit explanation for feeling such.

I honestly wanna dive deep into the catalogs of my traumatic childhood experiences to again come up with another reason why these two are the major gameplayers when it comes to fulfilling my needy ass. I can only think of two — that my mother has consistently provided me with these two things to show her love for me during the times I question if I am not worthy of affection, and that I rarely receive them from others because I was always the one people relied on due to their absurd belief in my strength and willpower, hence they think I do not need any caring for. In summary, these two became the symbolic representation of true love for me, and they are the hardest things to come by for someone like me.

So just imagine my surprise when my responsibility-averse wife, @worthleslie, just casually told me to get my poloshirt because she'll wash them.

I know I've told her to include my stuff when she does her laundry, but honestly I say those things in jest. I never really liked to impose no matter how close I am with the person; this is also because I'm drawing up traumatic childhood trauma no. 12, which is the way I was raised to believe I am a burden if I seek help, or be given it even without my consent.

Aly's been constantly trying to remove that belief from my hippocampus, along with 200 or so fucked up beliefs that hinder me from being a normal human who doesn't eat and breathe anxiety and nervous breakdowns (I'm such a catch), but something about her doing me this favor just tugs at my heartstring.

I handed her my shirt with slight hesitation and she took it from me casually, like as if she's done this a hundred times and she's the expert on taking her boyfriend's clothes to wash them. I wonder if she's done this before to make it seem it's second nature to her now (Aly, reply in the DMs lmao).

I must note that nobody else, except my mom or our maids, have washed my clothes by hand. So when Aly, who isn't parentally obligated or paid to do this, nonchalantly entered the bathroom to start washing, I was honestly so grateful that I just had to follow her.

I sat beside her and watched her manually rinse my shirt, along with her other items of clothing. I awkwardly started a dumb small talk about her posture and position, but all I really wanted to say was "wow, thank you for caring for me this much".

And as I've folded the shirt she washed and hung, I thought to myself "this is my new favorite shirt," for it will remind me how selfless and nurturing my partner is, and how considerate and thoughtful she is.

I could bet she's laughing at this entry because I've made a mountain out of a mole hill but I want her to know that everything she does for me, no matter how small the gesture may be for her, I am very grateful for it all.

I can't wait to live together with her and spend everyday appreciating the mundane. I can't thank her enough for allowing me enough peace of mind to actually enjoy the small things.

From saying "I love you" with bubbles and suds, to making me love life and look forward to tomorrows, these are all the result of Aly's ability to meet all of my love languages, particularly the two I have mentioned.

So to you, my love. Thank you. Thank you for loving me and actually showing me that you do. You're truly my best hooman. I love you.

[whimsyqueen]

Manuscript Search Tag!

Thanks for tagging me @talesofsorrowandofruin!!

words: window, bookcase, confuse, and travel.

These are gonna be from To Make A Fool of Death and Watch The River Burn, my two Main WIPs other than Unkind Current!

window - Watch The River Burn (Araminta's Story)

She was angelic. Perfect in every way that Araminta could remember and then some. Her strawberry blonde hair seemed to float around her freckle-spotted face like a cloud, and her brows were drawn together in a way that could only indicate the most beautiful form of anger, or at the very least, frustration. It took all Araminta had not to fall right the fuck off of that second-story ledge and on to her ass below. Cashmere raised a perfect eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. Araminta smiled sadly, motioning for her to open the window, please. She did. It had been unlocked the entire time, but as many times as Araminta had snuck into Cashmere's little apartment, this one didn't seem so appropriate.

bookcase - from To Make A Fool of Death, a little bit of Ruby on my mind.

"Is this all you do during the day?" Ruby raised a pencil-thin eyebrow, looking boredly around the office. I attempted to stifle a laugh, but was marginally unsuccessful.

"Ruby, dear, did you think I could go outside? The weather is delightful." My eyes followed her carefully, too carefully, as she made her way over to one of my overcrowded bookcases and picked up one of my journals, lazily flipping through it.

"Isn't it just!" She grinned, tossing the journal back on the shelf and selecting another. "Suppose that would kill you though, hm?" She didn't look up from the journal, and I found myself wondering which one she had picked up. What years of my life she happened to be invading.

"The sun and I aren't exactly on good terms." I admitted, and she laughed. She didn't need to pretend. She knew that was the case. So why bother asking? Why bother pretending she didn't know?

"My word these books are dreadful! It's tragedy after tragedy on every page! Where did you get them? And can we get you new ones?"

confuse - ALSO from Watch The River Burn! This one's really helping me out today I think.

"If it doesn't matter, and if you don't care, such as you claim, why are you here?" Araminta tilted her head, watching Cashmere's eyes follow her in perfect confusion. "I mean, why not come whenever you want?" Araminta scoffed, not wanting to explain herself. Of course she had done this just to be dramatic (lie) and not entirely out of necessity (the truth).

"You know, I can just go-" Minty turned, making for the window.

"NO!" Cashmere stood suddenly, holding out a small hand as if meaning to stop Araminta through sheer willpower alone.

travel - a little gift from To Make A Fool of Death, a small snippet from the rest of the scene that I posted a piece from yesterday.

"Don't assume to know how I feel about any of this." Verity's voice had lost any semblance of the fear it once held, "And if you truly think that, then you don't know me at all."

But Benevolence wasn't listening. Her lips moved silently, and Verity realized that for the first time in over a century, Benevolence was praying. It was almost a comfort. Almost. For those brief seconds, Verity wanted to be able to pretend that her old love was still in there, somewhere. To travel back in time and erase all of her past mistakes. To pretend that Benevolence, her Benevolence, was just a wish away from being who Verity remembered. But it wasn't possible.

tagging @the-void-writes, @annetilney, @bardic-tales, @evethenovicewriter, @worldstogetlostin and whoever else sees this and wants to do it! Your words are: glass, peace, assume, and fire! Have fun!

Also going to put the To Make A Fool of Death taglist under the cut, y'all come get y'all juice

If you want to join the Make A Fool of Death taglist, you can do so here! @athenixrose, @bardic-tales, @drowsy-quill, @thelibraryofchaos, @cyparissos, @kittyphoenix12-xx, @destiniescollide, @aeipathys, @fearofahumanplanet, @cactus-motif, @midnights-melodiverse, @ninirito, @antique-symbolism-main, @annetilney @athenswrites @the-void-writes

[doodledex-project]

Doodledex - #246 Larvitar

We interrupt our regularly scheduled legendaries (again) for a baby kaiju and its relatives! While I was wrong about Dratini’s line being the only line to do this, Larvitar’s line is the last pseudo-legendary line to appear in the middle of the “legendary section”.

According to the Pokedex, Larvitar typically hatch out of their eggs buried deep underground, and they must eat their way out of the soil to meet their parents. While Black 2/White 2/Y’s entry goes on to claim they immediately evolve into Pupitar afterwards, several other dex entries state that they must eat a whole mountain’s worth of dirt before they can do this! Despite the absurdity in that statement... it actually makes a lot more sense since we can find wild Larvitar above ground.

[weepingvoidpenguin]

One of Your Favorites

Jealous Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have an objective. Get Rumlow to confess. Simple enough, right? No. Aside from his usual condescending attitude towards you, Bucky has made it extremely apparent that he doesn’t think you’re capable of - well, anything, but especially not handling Rumlow. And yet, he is the biggest challenge of this entire ordeal.

Warning: T R I G G E R WARNING!! ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, language, light smut. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SA WILL TRIGGER YOU. 

Word Count: 8.3k

   “We have good intel stating he’s working as a double agent for HYDRA. Selling information, exploiting tactics, even going so far as to tell them where we’ll be and when.” Natasha scanned the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention during the briefing. 

   You slouched back in your swivel chair and twisted to-and-fro slightly with your hands gripping the arm rests on either side. It took all of your willpower to act engrossed in her words. And you meant every single drop. You’d been paying attention, sure, but the only issue was the dominating presence two seats to your right and directly in your line of sight to Natasha. You rolled your chair to the left to clear the path for the third time, only for him to block your way without missing a beat. The growl that left your mouth was nearly involuntary. Nearly.

   How long would this man act like a child? Despite his graceful and seemingly unsuspecting movements, you were fully aware his placement was intentional. This was not the first, nor did you doubt that it would be the last, time that Bucky acted impudently toward you. Frankly, you’d grown bored of his behavior. It was the same thing everyday. He would act a nuisance during the briefings, speak over you whenever he had the chance, steal the limelight from you and invalidate any concerns or thoughts you shared. The whole charade grew tiring and he had been dancing on thin ice for months now.

   You averted your gaze from burning holes through the freshly washed, brown locks and switched your attention back up to the redhead. Thankfully, too, because you managed to catch the end of her sentence just as she locked eyes with you.

   “And that’s why Y/N is going to be the one to extract the information from him,” she finished.

   You blinked, “Wait, what?” 

   Bucky straightened his posture and threw a quick glance your way, “Yeah, what? She’s got no heat, couldn’t toast marshmallows if we gave her all day. She shouldn’t lead this, she wouldn’t know how,”

   “Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take. 

   “Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

   “Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way. 

   “The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

   “Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

   “No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment. 

   “Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

   “But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

   “All the easier,” 

~

   The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

   “How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

   “She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

   “Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

   “She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

   You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

   “I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

   Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear. 

   “The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

   You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

   An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

   Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same. 

   “And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

   “Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

   You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

   “You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

   “Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

   “This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

   “Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

   “The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

   You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

   “Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

   You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up. 

   “Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

   “Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

   There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

   “Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

   You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

   “Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

   Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,” 

  “Much better,” Wanda agreed.

   You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

   “We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,” 

   “You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck. 

   They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

   “You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

   “More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

   “So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

   “That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

   You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now. 

   You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

   “Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

   “Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

   “Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way. 

   “Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

   “I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

   “Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

   “Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

   “All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

   You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife. 

   On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

   You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

   Fuck.

   “That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

   “And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

   There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

   “Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

   You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

   “What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

   You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

   “Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

   You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms. 

   “You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,” 

   You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

   A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

   “If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,” 

   You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

   He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

   “I’m not hiding myself,”

   “But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

   “And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

   The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

   “Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

   You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

   “Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with. 

   You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

   You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

   “So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

   You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

   “Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

   Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

   “Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

   “What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

   You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

   Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

   “I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

   You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each. 

   “Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

   “If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

   “Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them. 

   Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

   “What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

   Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man. 

   “It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

   “Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

   “Brat?” You snarled.

   Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it. 

   “Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

   You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

   “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in. 

   You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

   “Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

   “Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway. 

   “Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

   “What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

   “I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue. 

   “She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

   Water.

   You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

   “Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

   Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

   Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could. 

   Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

   You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

   “Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

   You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

   Why? Steve asked again.

   Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

   You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise. 

   Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

   “Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

   Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

   “I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

   “I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

   You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

   “You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

   A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

   You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

   Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

   You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him. 

   “What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

   You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

   “And what were you expecting?” 

   Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

   “Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

   You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

   “What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

   He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

   You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

   He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

   “And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

   “Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

   You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

   He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

   “But are you?” 

   “Am I what?” 

   “Enjoying yourself?” 

   Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

   Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

   “Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

   “Thank you,”

   You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

   All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

   “Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

   The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

   “I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

   “Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

   She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound. 

   Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

   You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

   You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

   “She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

   You nodded fervently, “Yup!” 

   Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

   Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

   “Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,” 

   You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

   He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

   Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

   Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

   Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

   Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

   “I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

   “Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

   Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

   “What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

   “You’ve had enough for tonight,”

   “It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

   Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

   “Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

   “No,” he responded curtly. 

   “Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

   “No,”

   Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

   Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

   “’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

   You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

   Oh shit. Your job. The job.

   If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

   You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

   “How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

   Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

   “Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

   Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

   “You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

   “Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

   Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

   You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

   “Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

   “They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,”

   You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out. 

   You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

   “Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

   “There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

   You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

   You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

   “Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

   Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

   We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

   Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

   Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor. 

   “Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

   “I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

   Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t. 

   “How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

   “I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

   “Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

   Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

   “You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

   A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

   “You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

   Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

   We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

   “So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?” 

   You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

   “You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

   The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

   “We?” 

   He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

   The shuffling started again.

   Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

   “Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

   “Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

   “I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

   Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

   The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

   “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

   You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire. 

   Fight. Move. 

   You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

   “Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

   “Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

   Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

   “Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.” Bucky spit.

   Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

   Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

   Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch. 

   “Wha-”

   “Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

   Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

   “Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

   “We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

   “I’m never going to hear the end of this,” 

   Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to. 

   Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

   After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

   You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

   “Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

   “That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

   You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

   He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

   “You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

   “Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

   You nodded slowly, “I am,”

   Then a few more seconds.

   Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

   “Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

   “More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

   You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,” 

   He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

   You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

   Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

   You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

   “Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

   “You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

   You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

   “Not to my face,”

   “Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours. 

   “It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

   “I see your hands are exposed,”

   He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

   You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

   Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

   You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

   “Stunning,” 

   “Smart?”

   “Genius,”

   “Good at her job?”

   “Amongst the best,”

   “Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

   Bucky chuckled and you watched how the laugh met his eyes. You liked that look on him. It was one of your favorites.

[todoscript]

SEQUEL TO  “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

.

.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

.

.

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

.

.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

.

.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

[something-fanfiction-ie]

The Years

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: *SMUT* So you embarrass yourself in front of Derek and Spencer, the details of the case are mentioned and are a little intense, and smut. Like, rough, Spencer smut because there is nothing you can say that could convince me that Spencer Reid is a bottom. And swearing.

A/N: AH THE ENDING PROBABLY SUCKS BUT I TRIED REALLY HARD I PROMISE. Also, this is ridiculously long and not all of it is smut. For a hot second this WAS an OC story but I thought you guys would enjoy a self-insert more so I changed it. LOTS AND LOTS OF THANKS TO MY FAV FIC WRITER AND NEW TUMBLR FRIENDS, @reidmorefanfics and @pomsephone Y’all are the best. Also, remember to shower me in reblogs, comments, asks, messages, likes, and anything else you can think of to boost my ego. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!!!

___

“Actually, that reminds me of a joke that I know.” At the front of the crowded lecture hall, a young Dr. Spencer Reid looks over at his partner eagerly, a smile already splitting his lips apart. Derek Morgan, however, looks over at his partner with a mixture of fear and secondhand embarrassment.

“Reid, I don’t think-” Morgan tries to save him, he really does, but Reid tucks his hair behind his ears and ignores him by starting the joke.

“Einstein, Heisenberg, Newton, and Pascal are playing hide and seek. Einstein covers his eyes and begins counting. While Heisenberg and Pascal run off and hide, Newton takes out some chalk and marks a square on the ground with a side length of exactly 1 meter, then sits down inside the square. When Einstein is finished counting and sees Newton sitting on the ground, he yells, "Ha, I've found you, Newton!". Newton however replies, "No you haven't! You've found Pascal!’”

A short, surprised laugh joins Spencer’s small chuckles, dragging his eyes to the location the sound had come from. Derek looks too, completely taken aback that anyone other than Reid had actually understood the joke. Yet, lo and behold, a young girl sitting in the front row with her cheeks stoplight red and her hand nervously covering her mouth.

Proudly, Spencer nods for Morgan to end the talk, his chest a little puffed out and a smug smile twitching at his lips. They wrap things up quickly, eager to grab some food after leaving campus and before heading back to the BAU.

When Spencer turns to gather his things, grabbing his bag, he notices the soft shuffle of feet against the hardwood flooring of the stage. A pair of black converse peek into his peripheral vision, attached to a pair of long legs that make Spencer blush for noticing at all. Lifting his eyes further, he meets the shy gaze of the only person who had laughed at his joke. It came as no surprise when he sees that your tee shirt had a picture of a cat with the words ‘Wanted: Dead and Alive’ in block lettering.

“Dr. Reid,” Your left hand comes up to push a stray lock of hair away from your face, a single gold band wrapped around your left index finger, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I just, uhm, I had a couple questions?”

Looping the strap of his bag over his head and letting the familiar weight of it settle against his hip before he responds, Spencer ignores the way Derek looks at him by pretending he isn’t there at all.

“Of course,” Spencer meets your eyes, which are a beautiful shade of (y/e/c). “I like the shirt by the way. I’m not usually much of a t-shirt person, but I might wear one like that.” You laugh, shifting on your feet and twisting the ring on your finger.

“Thank you, I got it as a Christmas present. Along with ten billion other nerdy t-shirts. But uhm, I was curious how old you were when you joined the FBI?” Morgan holds his tongue, pretending to shuffle papers around and not pay attention to the poor girl’s crush.

“I was twenty-two. I finished two of my doctorates the year prior.”

“I thought you had to be twenty-three? I’ve always wanted to join the FBI as soon as I could but I thought I had a little more time. That’s what I read anyways. I could be wrong, you would know more than I do.” You looked down at your shoes, kicking the toe of one converse into the wood, your hair falling forward over your shoulders.

“No, you’re right. I had an age waiver. You’re eighteen? Nineteen? You’ve still got some time to prepare.”

“I’m seventeen, actually.” Your lips skewed to the side, the confession barely above a whisper as you continued to stare at your feet. Spencer blanched, unable to contain his surprise. He was quick to school his features, though, when you finally looked back at him.

“You’re seventeen and you understood his joke?” Morgan couldn’t help but cut in now, stepping away from the table he’d been pushing papers around on and toward the two younger people left in the room.

“A pascal is a unit of measurement equal to one Newton per square meter. By sitting in a square meter, Newton was being one newton per square meter. Which is, again, equal to a pascal. So he was Pascal.” A smile had worked it’s way past the nerves that jumped around your body. You weren’t very used to talking to young, attractive, intelligent doctors who worked for the FBI.

“Although, even if I hadn’t understood the science behind the joke I might have still laughed. You see, there is this thing called the Halo Effect, which is basically a cognitive bias you might develop based on your initial impression of someone that can change how you feel about their specific traits. Essentially, one example would be that someone you find attractive may seem funnier or more intelligent simply because you find them attractive.”

It takes all of a second for your face to turn beat red as you realizes your nervous ramblings have made you reveal the silly crush you had started to develop on the young doctor. Derek’s lips purse in amusement when he sees the similar shade of red that has colored his partner’s cheeks.

“Not that I’m saying I find you attractive,” Your heart stops cold in your chest and you are quick to retract the statement. “Not to say you’re ugly either, because that’s not what I’m trying to say at all. Just that my first impression of you as a nice and attr- I mean, intelligent man could have very well made my amusement slightly biased because I was more willing to like you based solely on my first impression of you. Which was that you are very nice and, and intelligent.”

It takes all the willpower in the world for you not to throw yourself down the stairwell later that day, the embarrassment having barely faded even hours later. The two men had been quick to assure you they knew you weren’t saying you had a crush on Dr. Reid, but they were obviously just trying to protect your feelings. They wouldn’t be FBI Profilers if they couldn’t tell you had a crush on him. The conversation was pretty much over after that, you being suddenly desperate to make an escape and Dr. Reid just as eager to leave the campus grounds.

The whole team teased him about his teenage fan for months after it happened, Derek had been quick to let everyone know when they came back. Reid had tried to hide from them by scrunching down into his seat and covering his face with a book, but it hadn’t helped him at all.

Eventually though, both you and Spencer were able to move on from the embarrassing moment, though neither of you forgot it. Those moments where you’re all alone and the most embarrassing moments of your life come to creep up and embarrass you all over again? The memory always came back during those moments.

The team, however, seemed to forget about it, Gideon and Elle leaving and Rossi and Prentiss replacing them as the years faded the memory for them.

It wasn’t until JJ took her new position at the Pentagon and Ashley left after her brief consultation on the case in New Mexico that the memory came back to truly haunt you both.

The whole team had heard whispers of a ‘probationary agent’ that would be stepping in to assist wherever needed. Hotch was good at keeping quiet and avoiding questions on the matter, somehow keeping Penelope just as much out of the loop as the rest of the team.

No one was even sure when the new agent was supposed to be coming until the glass doors to the BAU opened and in stepped a young woman with (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes. Derek squinted his eyes, your face tickling the back of his memory in a way that annoyed him. Spencer tensed, his eidetic memory quick to remind him of the seventeen year old girl that had basically confessed she thought he was cute, and then called him ‘not ugly’ to try and cover her tracks.

“Agent (Y/L/N), nice to finally meet you.” Hotch said, holding the door open as you nodded your thanks and slipped inside his office with a box in your arms.

“That must be the probationary agent.” Prentiss directed the comment at Reid, oblivious to the resurfaced embarrassment that boiled his cheeks to that same shade of red he’d been in that lecture hall seven years ago. He kept his book up in front of his face while he tried to cool his cheeks, looking over the top of the binding and into Hotch’s window.

You’re sitting ram-rod straight in the seat in front of Hotch’s desk that is closest to the door, your box of things clutched tightly in your white-knuckled hands. Your hair is still the same length, swaying at your shoulders. You’ve switched the Schrödinger’s cat shirt for a deep velvet red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled at your elbows.

But even with the obvious nerves displayed in your current body language, it’s easy to see you aren’t the same stuttering seventeen year old Reid remembers. You holds steady eye contact with Hotch, nodding and fluidly responding in such a way that the usually stoic unit chief actually breaks into a grin that dimples his cheeks. When he stretches over his desk for a handshake, your left hand comes up and grips Hotch’s firmly.

“I’m glad it’s a girl, it was starting to feel a little too testosteronie around here with JJ gone.” Garcia had made her way into the bullpen, a cup of tea balanced in her bejeweled fingers as she, and the rest of the team, size up the girl heading for Hotch’s door.

“I don’t think ‘testosteronie’ is a word, baby girl.” Derek teases, trying to ignore the nagging feelings that he knows this girl from somewhere. Maybe they’d met on a case? But no, that doesn’t feel right.

“It is now, Derek. Don’t argue with me or I’ll have to punish you.” She brings the lip of her cup up, sipping at the lukewarm tea still inside and patting Morgan’s cheek with her free hand. Hotch’s door finally opens again and you step out after Aaron.

A hush falls over the room, all eyes trained to the newest and now youngest member of the team.

“We’ll do introductions on the plane, for now I need everyone in the conference room for a case.” Hotch is quick to make eye contact with everyone, his gaze stern and demanding.

Spencer is the last one into the room, practically dragging his feet to one of the chairs around the circle table. Thankfully, you were sitting across the table. Somehow you haven’t seemed to notice him.

“Yesterday Dawes County police found the body of Julia Hastings along a hiking trail in Kladon. This is the second body they have found in the area in two weeks, the first belonging to Heather Greenaway. Both victims are in their early to mid twenties. Hands and feet bound, buried face down. Each victim was struck once in the back of the head, making cause of death blunt force trauma.”

From your spot at the table, you glance up with narrowed eyes as you open the file you’d been given at the beginning of the meeting.

“Where did they disappear from?” Reid asks, a connection forming in his brain as each picture and detail flies up from Garcia’s tablet and onto the projected pictures before them.

“Night clubs around the area, they were working on the night they each went missing. Both girls were bartenders, had been working at their new jobs a week before they were kidnapped.”

“Justin Millers had the same M.O., kidnapping new female bartenders fitting this exact victimology and holding them hostage for a course of five days, beating and raping them before eventually hitting them on the back of the head with a tire iron.” You don’t look up from the file as you speak, flipping through the pictures and quickly noticing the small odd similarities in the victims between this case and Millers’ case.

“Millers has been locked away for a year and a half.” Derek pointed out, using the opportunity to stare at the face of the girl he was sure he knew but still couldn’t place. When you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed in a way that reminds him of Reid and your head tilted just a little to the side, he can feel his brain grab onto the memory just before it slips back through his fingers.

“I’d guess a copycat. Something seems different, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Your gaze slides over the table, looking at faces to get a gauge of their opinions on you. When you make eye contact with Reid, your eyes widen just a little before you duck your head. You should have known he was still here at the BAU, you’d only hoped he’d went to another unit out of desperation for this job.

“We’ll look into that theory, for now I just want a profile as if this unsub is working from his own killing preferences. We’ll discuss more on the way there. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch stands, flipping the cover over the top of his iPad before making his way out of the room. Go bags are grabbed, certain persons avoid bumping into other certain persons, and then the eight hour plane ride to Kladon, Nebraska begins.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Emily tests the name on her lips, having chosen to move by the younger girl after the fourty five minute theory discussion that started the plane ride.

“You can call me (Y/N/N), that’s what my best friend calls me.” You had popped the first two buttons open of your dress shirt and slipped your shoes off to tuck your feet underneath you. Tucked between your thigh and the arm of the seat is a book with a Greek title, in your hands is the open case file.

“Just your best friend?” Rossi asks from across the way, just as curious about the new girl as the rest of them, but a little better at hiding it.

“She’s really my only friend.” You shrug, but not in such a way that you seem bothered by the fact. You reach up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. Reid notices the gold ring that still circles your left index finger, light coming from the window glinting off the metal when you move. It’s the only jewelry you wears.

“A bit of a loner?” Derek joins the conversation, moving up the aisle of the jet with a cup of something hot cradled in his hands. He takes the seat directly in front of you, blowing at the liquid in his cup.

“I was more focused on getting through school than making friends. Emma just happened to be the only person who wouldn’t let me shake her.” There’s a smile on your lips as you talk about your best friend, your eyes soft.

“What did you go to college for?” Derek is fishing, looking for something to tell him where he knows you from. It amuses Reid, who has sequestered himself into a corner a little further away from you than everyone else.

“I have a masters in philosophy, with a focus in Ancient Greek philosophy. I have a bachelor’s in Greek, which is the only other living language I can speak and read outside of English, and I have two doctorates; one in Classic Studies and one in Criminology.” Rossi whistles, shaking his head and leaning back into his seat to express what everyone else is feeling.

“You young people just keep getting smarter and smarter. You know how many doctorates I had at your age? None. You know how many I have now?” You look at him with genuine curiosity, drinking in all the information you can about the people around you like it was a class you were taking to survive.

“None.” The laugh that bubbles from your lips is infectious and carefree, it pulls Reid’s attention away from his book and it drags Hotch from the constant state of worry that he mentally paces in. Emily, Derek, and Rossi all exchange looks before their own laughter fills the air. It’s nice.

The feeling reminds you of that scene in Mary Poppins where Dick Van Dyke and Ed Wynn laugh themselves into the ceiling. So light and carefree that it could lift them into the sky.

“Why all the attention on the Greek?” Prentiss manages when the laughter subsides, reaching down for the book the young doctor has tucked away. Η φόνισσα, it reads with a black and white picture of arms twisted to the side of the bookcover. You make no move to grab for it, letting the other woman flip through the pages.

“My father was a Greek Philosophy professor before he died, I suppose it’s my way of trying to stay close to him.” Prentiss looks up from the pages, a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“And your mother?” The change in your entire demeanor is like cold water on the conversation, freezing the group in their spots. You reach for the book, tucking it back into the space between your thigh and the seat.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only blatant lie you’ve told since they started talking to you, averting your eyes and shifting in your seat. No one presses the topic, giving the new girl the space you need.

You take the case file with you when you go to make a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette situated in the back of the plane. Reid is already back there, pouring a steady stream of sugar into the otherwise black liquid.

“Dr. Reid.” You nod your head in greeting, avoiding his eyes by setting your folder on the counter and pretending to read it. You’ve been going over every detail of the case for so long that you’ve memorized everything there is to know. There are notes and theories scribbled into the margins and little sticky notes with questions scattered around the papers.

“It helps to step away for a little bit, that way when we land you come back to it with fresh eyes.” The utensils drawer clicks shut as Reid grabs a spoon to stir his coffee, risking the chance to finally look at you.

You’re twisting the ring on your finger and chewing the inside of your cheek. Without your shoes on, the top of your head comes to his shoulders.

When you look up at him, (y/e/c) eyes thoughtful and just as curious as the day they met, Reid can’t fight the urge that draws his gaze to your lips. The skin there is so very soft looking, surprising him when the thought of kissing them hits him like a train.

He clears his throat, focusing all of his attention on the coffee cup in front of him. The sugar is completely stirred in at this point, but he kind of wants to stay in the hopes that you’ll strike up a conversation.

“But everyone is different so you don’t have to listen to me, just do whatever helps you.” His shoulders lift in a shrug and he’s glad that nobody is there to see him interact with this girl. They would know how he felt before he could even come to terms with it himself.

As quickly as you are there, you leave. Completely flustered and unsure how to go about navigating a relationship that’s foundation was an unintentional love confession. Maybe, you thought as you leaned into your seat and closed your eyes, if I just ignore him then everything will be fine.

By the time the jet touched down in Nebraska, you had fallen into a dead sleep with your book sitting open in your lap. Emily was the one to reach out and gently shake your shoulder, the smile on her face gentle and motherly. Still blinking away sleep, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and book before rushing for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, the shoe laces on one of your shoes hadn’t been completely tied. Add that to the speed in which you were trying to separate yourself from Reid, and you managed to trip over your feet and right into the person you were trying to avoid.

Your bag hit the ground, the book following suit as a warm hand grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled. When you collided with someone’s chest, you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Reid smelled like old books, laundry detergent, and cinnamon.

“Your shoe is untied.” He said, his voice rumbling in his chest. You didn’t look up, afraid the heat in your cheeks would give you away. You looked down instead, noticing the way your feet were inside the breadth of his stance. One shoe’s laces laid precariously around your foot as if mocking you. Quickly, you took a step away and almost tripped again on your bag. You caught yourself on one of the seats, holding a hand out to keep Reid from grabbing you again.

“Thank you, I’m okay. Really.” You didn’t meet his eyes, every lewd thought you’d had during that stupid lecture about his lips and hands and hair came rushing back at you with every glance. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could see each fantasy written on your face like a lusty, ten-cent romance novel.

Morgan, having stopped to watch the two doctors in your clearly flustered states, suddenly felt it click in his brain. Sure, you were older and not as squirrelly as he remembered, but the way you were looking at his partner was nearly the exact same as you had seven years ago.

Feeling smug for finally figuring it out, he walked up to Spencer with his bag thrown over his shoulder, stopping beside him as they both watched you rush for the exit.

“Can you imagine someone having a crush on you for seven years? Oh, wait.” Bending down to grab his bag, Spencer shook his head in such a way that a few loose curls tangled on his eyelashes. A simple sweep of his hand across his face helped to push it away.

“It took you long enough to figure it out.” Spencer took the lead, dreading the car ride with Derek to the medical examiners. He had been hoping his older partner wouldn’t remember who you were, at least, until the case was solved.

“Oh ho ho, don’t think you can avoid this conversation with insults, pretty boy.” Morgan was hot on his tail, and that was exactly where he stayed for the next three days that the team was in Nebraska.

The killer was, in fact, a massive fan of the infamous Justin Millers. It was just a matter of pinpointing which of the crazy fanatics he was, which might have been easier if the local populace was more open to talking to law enforcement.

It was by a brilliant stroke of luck, or rather misfortune, that the team realized sending you undercover would help on many different levels. Not only did you fit the victimology, (all they needed to do was get you a ‘job’ at one of the local bars) but you would also be able to get information from the civilians that were unwilling to talk to the FBI.

Four days into your undercover mission, you found yourself wiping down the counter after closing. The band was packing up their equipment on stage and your boss had already left. Laily, the only other bartender here tonight, was flirting with the drummer while you closed things up behind the counter.

As was customary, the members of your team had taken turns following you around everyday just in case anything happened. Today just so happened to be Spencer’s turn, you’d managed to slip him into the back room before all the customers had left for the night. It was the only reason you gave Laily the okay when she asked if you would be cool closing by yourself tonight.

“I can’t believe after five years of college, I’m back to bartending.” You grumbled, shouldering the backroom door open with a box full of beer in your hands. Spencer jumped up from the crate he’d been leaning against, holding the back of the door open so you could get in a little easier.

“You were a bartender before?” He asked curiously, trying to ignore the way the low-cut black uniform shirt you were wearing fit against your figure and twisted his insides. Factor in the tight jeans that hung on your hips and the sheen of sweat on your skin from the hot summer night and he could barely focus, let alone protect you from any possible threats.

“The years between my college graduation and my joining the FBI, yeah. I could have done something different, I guess, but I wanted to have a normal young adult job before I spent the rest of my life chasing serial killers and such.” You turned to face him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time this week.

Unlike you, he was wearing his FBI Kevlar. The navy blue tie that he wore was tucked into the top of it, the baby blue sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up around his elbows. You, yourself, were having an awful time trying to keep from getting all kinds of flustered just looking at him.

The young profiler you remember was all wiry and clean cut, the man in front of you is more scraggly. His hair curls around his jawline and his forearms are far more attractive than anybody’s forearms ought to be.

His parents were just showing off, casually bringing a child into the world that looks like that.

“I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He blurted, surprising himself. You could tell by the way his brows dipped down and he took a step back immediately after saying it. Even his cheeks were a little pink.

“What happened between us was like seven years ago and all you did was tell me you had a crush on me. And then take it back. I just don’t want it to affect our work relationship because everyone already likes you a lot and I want to get the chance to like you as well.” For someone who always seems so very shy and awkward, his eyes look directly into yours, narrowing just a little. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and turns all of your bones to jelly underneath you.

He just ages like fine wine and you know that, should you be offered a permanent position at the BAU, that you would have to spend the rest of your working days keeping yourself in check while the man in front of you continued to evolve into a more gorgeous version of himself every year. The Spencer you remember had felt like peak Spencer, now this Spencer felt like peak Spencer, but who is to say that five years from now, when he decides to grow a little stubble and style his hair differently, that he wouldn’t somehow get even more attractive?

You open your mouth to come up with some bullshit answer that you didn’t really mean in order to smooth things over, when the door opens again. Spencer, standing directly infront of said door, looks not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a truck barreling right at him going way too fast on a backroad.

Time crawls at an unusual pace, the door slowly creaking open and Laily’s voice filtering in the opening. Why did he have to wear that stupid vest? Surely the FBI has bullet proof vests you could wear under your clothing. The only idea you could come up with was, honestly, not a very good one. But it was the only one you had.

Practically launching yourself across the room, you catch Spencer’s lips against your own like the world depends on it. Using your own hands, you position Spencer’s arms around you with one hand on the back of your head and the other grabbing underneath your leg that hooks around his waist. The vest uncomfortably digs into your chest with how close your bodies are against one another, your arms now thrown around his neck, but if he keeps kissing you like this then you’ll be inclined to ignore it.

Just seconds ago he had been begging you to have a normal relationship despite your silly ‘past’ crush, now his tongue was fighting for dominance in your mouth. The irony was not lost on you.

“Oh.” Laily gasps a little when she sees you in such a compromising position. The lights from the bar illuminating every detail so that she could see the way Spencer’s fingers desperately tangled in the strands of your hair or how the muscles in his forearm strained as he hungrily pulled your body even closer than before.

The blush on your cheeks and neck are real when you pull your lips away, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach when Spencer catches your bottom lip in between his teeth for just a second. The look in his eyes is devilish when you tilt your head over your shoulder to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry Laily, this is my boyfriend, Lance. I just- I heard about all those girls that have been going missing and I asked if he would drive me home.” The look in your coworkers eyes is all you need to know that this does not look like just a ride home. Although, it very well could have led to a ride somewhere if she had been just a handful of minutes slower.

“Nice to meet you, Lance. Gwen, I’ll see you tomorrow. Just,” the mischievous twinkle in her eyes does not go unnoticed by the two doctors in the room still tangled around each other, “maybe clock out before things get anymore heated.” She teases, the tone of her voice suggesting that you will be hearing more of this tomorrow.

“Bye, Laily!” The door clicks shut behind her, followed by the chuckles and giggles of Laily and the band as they leave for the night. You relax into Spencer’s arms, moving as if to pull out of them before they tense around you.

“We should be safe now.” You whisper, looking up into his eyes that burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in them before. That damn tongue sweeps across those perfect lips again, drawing your attention and reminding you that you now know what they feel like locked with yours.

“I think I hear somebody coming.” He whispers back, aware that you can both hear the soft bang of the front door closing and locking shut from the outside. Since the killings, the door was always locked if employees were still inside, as a safety precaution. Nobody else was coming in tonight unless they had a key.

Your lips meet his anyways, too tired to pretend that the heat between you wasn’t there. If this was the excuse he needed to kiss you, then you were all the more willing to give it to him. His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, causing them to open against his mouth and deepen the kiss.

Both of his wide hands splay against your hips, curling into the soft skin there and pulling you toward him with such force that you nearly trip. The hard edges of his Kevlar vest dig into your ribs and collarbone, the rough material scratching against your exposed skin as you push yourself up on your toes. When he breaks from the kiss, both of you gasping for air not from the length of it by from the passion, it is not to end your tryst.

His lips find the pulse at your neck, sucking a bruise at the soft skin there and pulling a moan from deep within your chest.

“Won’t- Won’t Morgan and Prentiss get worried,” your brain feels like the motherboard of a computer that Spencer has taken into his hands and slammed into a countertop, you can’t think when his teeth nip a love bite to the hickey he’s made on your neck, “if we, uhm, we take too long?”

If you thought the Spencer you met seven years ago was different from the Spencer you knew now, it was only because you’d never seen his bright hazel brown eyes darken with lust from beneath those impossibly long golden lashes. He was a completely different person as he unstrapped himself from the Kevlar, laying it on the floor with a solid thunk before gathering you back into his arms.

“They’ll be okay,” He said in between kisses trailed along your jawline. His movements are confident as he dips a hand down the front of your jeans and into your underwear. Your arms tighten around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck when his fingers find the already wet entrance to your sex. His answering growl does nothing to keep you from coming undone as he presses the pad of his thumb to the bundle of nerves there. “I’m guessing it won’t be long before I have you in the palm of my hands, anyways.”

You rock your hips into him, your eyes fluttering shut with a gasp when he thrusts two long fingers inside of you. His other arm is wrapped around the center of your back, holding you to him because lord knows you can’t be trusted on your own two feet at a moment like this.

“Is this why you planned on ignoring me? Because you wouldn’t be able to handle it if I didn’t give you this?” You whimper a response, too focused on the relentless pace he has set with his fingers to come up with anything coherent. Everything about the moment is raw and animalistic, every fantasy you’d had about him during the fifty minute lecture did not even begin to touch on the feeling of his hand actually inside of you.

“Spencer, please.” You whined, dropping your arms from his shoulders and gripping onto his biceps like it will keep your soul from leaving your body. Yet, as heavenly as this felt, and as much as it exceeded your fantasies, you wanted more. Every part of you craved the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, sticky with sweat and feverish to the touch.

On a tight time constraint, Spencer doesn’t make you beg anymore than that. Instead, he delights in the way you cry out when he pulls his hand out of your pants and up to his lips. Your own lips part with a tiny popping sound when you watch him put those same fingers into his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Strip.” He commands, licking the taste of you off his lips and leisurely working at the knot of his tie. You don’t waste a second in crossing your arms over your body to pull the black material over your head and drop it at your feet. Next to come off is your shoes, clattering across the wooden floor when you kick them to the side.

By the time you make it to your pants, Spencer has only undone a quarter of the navy blue buttons on his shirt.

“I need you now, Spencer.” The buttons slip through your fingers, your hands shaking with excitement more than nerves. Although, the nerves are definitely apart of it. Never in a million years did you think you would be here; in the backroom of a bar in Nebraska, with Spencer Reid doing salacious things to you. While on your first case with the BAU, nontheless.

Doing a complete one-eighty, his hands come up to cover your own just before the last button comes undone. His touch is gentle and prompts you to look up into his coffee colored eyes. The light from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling is no good, and yet somehow he manages to look like a piece of artwork painted by the most skilled hand known to mankind.

“We don’t have to do this here. We don’t have to do this at all, if you don’t want to.” You squint your eyes up at him, using your fingernail to pop the last button through the hole on the other side of the shirt. When you let go, the pieces fall away from his chest like he’s caught in slow motion on a Calvin Klein commercial.

“I said I needed you now, not later.” In response, he scoops you into his arms and wraps your legs around his hips. The electricity that pops and crackles between you is nearly visible in the dimly lit room, the fabric of your bra skimming against his collarbone when you breath.

The little whines and whimpers that fall from your lips are driving Spencer crazy, forcing him to push through the door and lower you to a shorter countertop meant for making drinks. Tonight it would be used for other, more wicked things.

“Someone’s a bit excited.” You breathed. There was no way you could take a full breath in a moment like this. Everything was so heated and yet nothing was really happening.

“Shut the fuck up.” And then he was kissing you, his lips warm against your own. Despite the fact that you didn’t think it was possible, he pulled you closer. You knitted your fingers into his curls and gave them a slight tug. God, you loved these curls.

He began sucking a heated trail down your throat, quite possibly leaving a pathway of hickeys. You would be putting makeup over them for at least thirty minutes before you left your hotel room tomorrow, but for now they were heavenly fire against your skin.

Spencer took away his lips long enough to strip from his remaining clothes and throw them over his shoulder. When he stood in front of you looking like a Roman god, bared to no one but yourself, it made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“I’m so in love with your body.” He groaned just before his lips found your breast, sucking on your nipple. Your head fell back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fumbled for a moment, patting around the countertop before your brain turned on long enough to get your hand between your legs and down to his naked erection.

He moaned into your breast as you began to move your hand. He let go of your boob and went straight back up to your mouth. His whole body was tensed up but his lips were soft as they parted against against your lips. The whole world felt like it was on fire, and his every touch was another lick of flames.

You move your hand faster, enjoying every groan and grunt and moan that finds it’s way out of his mouth and into yours. He’s already close to orgasm, you can tell by the way he breaks from the kiss, your foreheads pressed together and your breath stirring in the small space between your faces. His grip is tight when he grabs your wrist to make you stop.

“No.” Every nerve and thought and feeling was consumed by you and everything else short-circuited. Spencer couldn’t get the words out of his mouth to properly express what he wanted, it wasn’t often that the young genius was rendered speechless.

But you knew, you knew that he wanted to be inside of you. You knew that because you wanted him inside of you just as much, if not more, than he did. You shift your hips around on the counter, getting closer to the edge as you widen your legs.

“I’m on the pill.” You whisper, watching the sudden realization that he hadn’t come prepared widen his eyes for just a small fraction of a second. Just as quickly, the fear turns into that devlish grin you weren’t aware someone so beautifully shy and awkward could possess.

“Thank you, Pincus, Sanger, and McCormick.” You barely have time to question the comment, although later you’ll realize he’s probably talking about three of the minds behind the invention of the birth control pill. No longer taking his time, Spencer positions himself right at your entrance before running the tip of his cock along your wet folds.

“Fuck!” He slams into you, running his entire length into your body, hitting depths you didn’t even realize had never been touched until he was thrusting against them. It sends a wave of pleasure through every cell in your body as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like you’re running out of oxygen.

He holds onto your hips as he repeatedly rams his hips into yours. He has buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting every curse and moan muffle into your skin. The glasses under the counter jangle with every merciless thrust inside you. The sharp bite of his nails digging into your hips makes you hiss, but it’s more from pleasure than pain.

There’s no dirty talking anymore. Every ounce of pretend you both go through while around one another is shed like seconds skins, leaving two people so hungry for each other that it had been too much to bare.

Your fingers are twisted around the short curls at the nape of his neck and your teeth are biting into the solid muscle at his shoulder. The bar always had whiffs of sex and sweat in the air that mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume, but now it was the strongest scent in the room.

Even as your orgasm starts to build in your belly, you want more. You want to hold him so close that your brain wouldn’t be able to distinguish where you ended and he began. Letting go of his shoulder, your head lolls back and your own nails draw long lines of red down his neck.

“Spencer!” His name leaves your lips in a mix of a sob and a moan, the ecstasy of just his touch alone driving you higher and higher. The sting of his nails leave your hips, one hand reaching to the place where your connected and the other coming up to grip your jaw in his hand.

His thumb rubs against the little button of pleasure that causes your legs to start to tingle like they’ve been asleep for too long. All the while, he ruthless pace doesn’t falter. Sweat sticks a few of his curls to his temples, providing a beautiful glowing effect across the smooth planes and angles of his shoulders and collarbones.

He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss that ends much too quickly for your taste, but you can feel the rapid exhalation of his breaths as it fans across your cheek.

“Come.” Usually a man of so many words, you had always assumed it would be the same in his sex life. Maybe it was true in most cases, but right now his desire to see you succumb to the pleasure of him inside of you outweighs the need to taunt and tease you with words.

Meeting his eyes, getting off on the smug look that twists his lips as much as you are getting off on his dick actually inside of you, you let yourself fall into the sweet release of your orgasm. Spencer doesn’t stop as you come around him, instead he quickens the pace as his own release works its way to the edge.

Your legs are still shaking when he buries himself into you with one final thrust, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He chases the sting of his teeth away with the softness of the kiss that follows, loosing himself in the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Neither of you move, although he ends the kiss to gasp for air with your foreheads once again pressed against each other. His eyes are closed, the dark pink on his cheeks and neck making him look so much younger than he was. You keep your eyes open, trying to drink in every second and commit it to your memory the way it would forever be in his.

When he steps away, leaving you feeling much more empty than you’d felt in a really long time, the cocktail of your orgasms spill down the inside of your thighs. Suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, you slip off the counter with your arm wrapped around your bared breasts.

The air seems too cold, the bar too quiet, and your mind was too loud with insecurities as you tried to steady yourself on wobbly knees. Nevertheless, you attempt to make a beeline for the backroom door. If you go and put your clothes back on then maybe you could go back to pretending like he doesn’t exist and everything will be fine.

That is until one of those solidly handsome arms come out to stop you in your pursuit of denial.

He’s still naked, standing next to you like a statue carved by the hands of Michaelangelo himself. Although, you aren’t sure the renissance artist would sculpt nail marks into his skin, the signs of your heated escapade only darkening with time. You can only imagine what your own neck looks like, several spots of sensitive skin still overly stimulated from his wandering mouth.

From your vantage point, you can see his swollen lips open to say something, probably that this had been a mistake, when his phone rings from the pair of pants he’d so carelessly thrown to the floor earlier. A small frown mars his angelic features, the side of his mouth twitching with aggravation.

His lips on yours are a surprise you weren’t expecting, despite the sexual encounter you’d just had. This kiss speaks more words than he could ever possibly say, easing all the post-coital dysphoria that comes with the sudden fall from the high you’d been on. It’s gentle and warm, the hand on your arm squeezes reassuredly before he breaks away with one last peck to your forehead. It nearly tears your beating heart out of your chest.

“Come to my hotel room later.” And then he bends down to snag the phone from his pants with an aggravated growl, turning away from you as he lies through his teeth to a worried Prentiss on the other end.

In the backroom, having shimmied back into your pants and going to put your shirt back over your head, you fingers find your lips. They’re just a little swollen, exactly like his, but you wonder if he can still feel that final kiss against them the way that you could.

Oh boy, were you in trouble.

[turtle-go-brrrr]

4 times Leonardo was a dork and the time he wasn’t

Heya! I adore the "strong stoic character does something embarrassing or dumb" trope, and Leo has been left behing from that one. Also, my fervent Leo Simp Friend said these were all good ideas and I trust his judgment completely, so it's also for him. Enjoy, you Dork-ass Looser (affectionate) @weird-flex-but-ok

I have one of these "4 times ______ and 1 time ______" stories for each of them, I just got really inspired by him all of a sudden. But they're coming!

There might be a few typos here and there, but I really don't wanna wait any longer to post it :3

Requested: No

Pairing: None, platonic

Word count: 2500 +

Triggers: cursing, injuries, blood, intrusion

Summary: You were always sort of intimidated by the leader in blue, but a series of events shows you he might not be as serious as he wants you to think.

__________________________________________

First time

It took you a while to get along with all of them.

Not because you didn't trust them, or because they made it difficult, and certainly not because they're mutants. You're just not that good with new people, and you tend to shy away. Especially when you have New York's heroes in front of you.

So yeah. It took a while. But soon enough, you warmed up to your new friends, and you had a great time. Mikey was the first who made you feel welcomed, always asking questions about you and insisting you came to the lair in the first place. Donnie followed soon, after you started asking about what he was working on. It took a bit more work to get closer to Raph, but it turns out sarcasm was the way to go.

If only their leader was as approachable.

He never made you feel unsafe or unwelcomed, don’t get me wrong, he just kept a professional distance with you, which started to become quite painful as time went on. You tried not to take it personally, thinking he maybe was as shy as you were.

You had time anyway.

It was early in the evening when you made your way to the lair. For the first time since you met the turtles, you went there alone. You were a little nervous, thinking you might get lost in the maze of tunnels under the city, but figured you could just call someone if anything happened. Lucky for you, you found your way to your friend’s place, but not without hustle.

As you entered, you realized it was uncharacteristically quiet. The only sounds you could here were the faint music and the not so faint curses from Donatello’s lab. The smart decision seemed to be leave him alone, which is exactly what you did.

You haven’t been here long enough to know where to find the others, and as you didn’t exactly felt like staying alone in the living space, you tried finding your way to the dojo, as it was one of the other places you knew well.

Of course, now you got lost. Venturing into the sewers was fine, but walking into your friend's home wasn't, apparently.

You found something else, however. This particular tunnel led to a room you could identify as someone's room. You could see the large bed in the middle of the room, a small table with a bottle of water, a book, and a makeshift alarm. A set of twin swords were hanging on the right wall, just above a small bookshelf.

On your left was another table with a (healthy, you noted) bonsai tree, and next to that was Leonardo, facing a mirror. He had his right arm lifted up to his head, and was looking right to you through the mirror.

He looked absolutely horrified.

What the fuck.

He slowly rubbed his face in his hands, let out a long sigh, and turned to you, more tense than you've ever seen him. He cleared his throat as you pince your lips in a thin line to hold back a smile.

"Hello, Y/N. I... didnt think you'd come in so early."

Despite the badly lit room, you can see him bite the inside of his cheek.

"Yeah, uh, I didnt mean to... interrupt you," you say. Your voice is slightly shaking as it takes all of your willpower not to burst out laughing. And he definitely notices.

"You didn't! I uh, wasn't doing anything anyway. So, tell me- what brings you to the lair?" He asks, avoiding your eyes.

"Oh, Mikey invited me, he said I wasnt allowed to skip on movie night. You know how strong willed he is," you smirks, unable to handle it much longer.

Stiff as a board, you see the corner of his mouth twitching and hear him whisper, "... I wasn't flexing."

Silence.

You snort laugh hard enough to choke on it as you quickly turn around to hold yourself against the wall, the insanity of the situation crashing on you. Leo sat at the foot of his bed, head in his hands, and you could see him shake in repressed laughter once you wiped your tears away.

You sit next to him after finally calming down from the hysteria. He sighs, straightens his back and gives you a side glance.

"I'm not judging."

"You're still laughing, though."

"Yeah, but like, I guess I just wasn't expecting that. Still not judging."

He nods, still smiling. His voice is at least 3 octaves higher when he asks, "Please, don't tell the others."

"And what, give them the privilege of knowing about your little... ritual? Nah, don't worry about it."

_______________________

Second time

The second time your assumptions about the leader were subverted happended only two weeks after the... incident.

You had invited the whole crew to your place for the very first time, and they were all excited to come. You made a copious dinner: a few veggie cakes, chicken wings and a bowl of roasted potatoes. They were supposed to bring the drinks and movies, and April and Casey were in charge of the desert.

A perfect night, it seemed.

And it would have been if they could decide what to watch first without jumping at each other's throats.

"You guys need to grow up."

"Leave me out of thi-"

"Donnie's suggesting Velocipastor of all things and you think we need to grow up? Come on, Y/N, I thought you were better than that."

"Okay, first of all, how dare you. And second, this movie's a masterpie-"

"Yeah, because everyone knows that his supremior intellect means he's the only one who gets to choose a dumb movie. Why won't you guys watch Sharknado?"

"Supremior isn't a word. And it's because unlike you, peasants, I have taste." A devilish smile creeps up Donnie's face. The bastard is doing it on purpose.

"Peasants?!"

"You ugly-ass son of a-"

"Hey! Leave Dad out of this!"

"We could watch Shrek instead?"

You decided to go get some glasses in the kitchen, leaving the children to their stupid fight. Searching through your cupboard, you hear a crashing sound, quickly followed by utter and complete silence.

Oh no.

In insight, leaving them alone was maybe not the best idea. You were reconsidering bringing glasses into the mess as you made your way to the origin of the sound. And what a mess it was.

Your friends were all expressing shock in some way, Casey (surprisingly) being the most dramatic of them all with his hands right in front of his face and his jaw hanging open. They were all looking back and forth between you and another direction near the table.

The really cool bowl that held the delicious potatoes you made was broken on the floor. There was glass and potatoes everywhere, but the biggest shards were in a neat pile, right behind Leonardo, who looked like a deer in headlights.

"... nothing happended."

"I'm... starting to think it's a habit of yours," you say as you watch him not so discretely try to hide the broken pieces behind his foot.

"Look, if you keep putting your foot in there you're gonna hurt yourself. Just, step away a bit, will you?"

"I'm sorry I broke it. Let me help you clean up, I don't want you to cut yourself."

"It's okay! Don't touch it, I'll get a bag," you say as he starts to gather the biggest shards.

Won't even listen for one second, will he?

Raph was already picking up the untouched potatoes to put them in the plates on the table, and April went to the kitchen with you to retrieve the bag and cleaning supplies.

"Ew, Mikey don't eat that."

"Thirty seconds rule, baby."

"It's five seconds, you moron. And it's way over thirty anyway. Spit it out."

The rest of the night went on without further issues, but Leo still looked apologetic during the movie. Which is probably why he was standing before you as his brothers were leaving.

"Thank you for the evening. And I'm... sorry again for the bowl."

"Hey it's okay, man. Don't worry about it. As long as no one gets hurt it's not that big of a deal."

"I'll get you a new one." He doesn't wait for your answer and ruffles your hair before taking off.

"Text me when you guys get home!" You scream into the night, hoping one of them heard you.

______________________

Third time

It's surprisingly easy to mess with Fearless.

You were in the living room, getting your ass beat on Mario Kart by Mikey, when you decided to take a break for your stomach (and ego)’s sake. You made your way to the kitchen, where Leo and Raph were in a heated discussion. Raph looked

“I’m telling you, 4 inches is too small. What do you get from 4 inches ? Nothing. But 10 inches ? It really makes you feel something.”

…

What?

You looked down on the table and saw multiple ingredients lined up on the table, with a long piece of bread on the side.

Oh, sandwiches. Got it.

Leo’s back was facing you, but Raph gave you a knowing glance, one that said ‘do it’. So, you did. Not without a smirk, first.

“Oh, wow, Leo ! I didn’t think you’d be so open about that kind of conversations.” You open the fridge, hoping you can hide your smile behind the door.

“What ? What do you m-” His face falls. Raph starts chuckling next to you and it looks like Leo’s brain is rebooting. 

“I mean, I’m not judging. You do you, buddy, I’m happy for you. Just surprised you choose lunch time to talk about it.” And in other circumstances, you’d mean every word. But right now, messing with your friend is too good to pass on.

“No, hold on- I didnt mean- It’s not what you think ! I’m talking about sandwiches !” He tries to show you the ingredients currently on the table, but Raph decides it’s time to join the fun.

“Lying isn’t vey Bushido of you, Honor Boy,” he winks at you and you can’t repress a giggle.

He puts his face in his hands, knowing very well that the both of you ganged up on him but unable to save face. He just smiles, goes back on his chair and hides his head in his arms, hoping you won’t see how embarassed you made him.

“Hey, you like what you like. Have fun with your sandwiches.” You give him an innocent smile, pat him twice on the shoulder, and join Mikey back on the couch with a plate of grapes.

You could hear Raph’s light chuckle from the kitchen.

______________________

Fourth time

Mornings are hard.

And they’re even worse when you spent the whole night sewing an arm back together after a sword gave it a nasty cut. And getting glass shards off of your friend’s shell. And putting a bone back in it’s rightful place after a particularly bad fall.

Yeah. Long night. And a tense one, too.

Because with the physical pain came the chock and residual fears, the anger and blaming. Everyone was stil on guard, and all that tension was exhausting. You barely slept, too worried that one of your friend’s state would degrade if you didn’t keep an eye on them at all times. Which didn’t really help you get the rest you needed.

If you were hoping the morning would be kinder on all of you, you quickly realized that it was a mistake. While, luckily for the turles, the mutagen was already healing their physical wounds, the emotional exhaustion of the previous night was still heavy. Of all of your conscious friends, not one dared break the eerie silence.

It was weird, seeing them like this. But you couldn’t force yourself to say anything, strangely scared of what could happen. You resumed to making breakfast for everyone and bringing clean towels to the still sleeping feverish turtle in the medbay. Splinter and Mikey were at the kitchen table, quietly accepting your offering, when Leo came into the room from the medbay.

He was still half asleep, and in his drowsiness didn’t see the wall he accidentally ran into.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there.”

Everyone turned to Leo, who it took a solid minute of staring blindly at the wall to realize what just happened.

Donnie was the first to laugh. It didn’t take long for april and Mikey to join, soon followed by Splinter affectionately patting his son’s arm. Leo smiled and shook his head, as their lighthearted laugh was contagious.

The leader in blue was more of a goofball than what you first expected, and you were grateful for it in the fading tensions of the morning.

______________________

One time he wasn't

When someone intrudes your home, especially at 4 am when you were sleeping in the next room, a lot of things go through your head.

Did they take anything?

Yes. Your bag with your wallet, some cash, your credit card, your ID, and a few fidelity cards from various stores. Your laptop. A set of keys. That one blanket Raph made you (probably to carry everything without making too much noise).

Why you?

Why not? Your apartment isn't isolated, but it's not exactly on a main street either. It was probably practical for them.

Were they armed?

Who knows. Maybe. Maybe not. Probably. Statistically, most likely.

What could have happened if you had tried to confront them?

A lot of things. Maybe, if you let them know you were awake and knew what was going on, without necessarily confronting them, it would have been enough to make them run away. Or maybe there were multiple armed people, and they wouldn't hesitate to use force if necessary.

Who knows.

Can the police find this person?

Statistically? No. At least, that's what Casey told you when you asked him. Unless they got really lucky, they won't find anything.

Or at least the stuff they stole?

Again, unlikely. Unless they can trace your laptop back to the guy, or someone can give a physical description and a direction, there's not a lot they can do.

What can you do now?

Call your bank. And your insurance. And your landlord. Let them know what happened and follow their directive, they'll guide you through their procedure and help you soften the blow.

Casey was the first person you called when you woke up this night, and he was at your place within minutes with two other colleagues (the closest he could find). He spent the rest of the night reassuring you, helping you with the phone calls, asking around for witnesses, but nothing.

It's weird, feeling unsafe for the first time in a place you had called Home for years. It's disturbing. You can feel the nausea your anxiety is giving you, and a headache starts to grow at the back of your skull.

You don't really like this feeling.

So when your turtle friends dropped by the next evening without telling you and you welcomed them with a swing of your favorite pan, let's just say reactions were split.

"I can hack into your computer to find its location if you want. Wouldn't be the first time."

"What?"

"What? I mean, I didn't do it for your location last time. I know all about your search history, though."

"We're gonna have a talk about boundaries and privacy once we're done dealing with that," you sigh. You crash down on the couch next to your friend and mindlessly watch him work.

Leo comes up to you and gently nudges your shoulder. "Hey, do you have a toolbox somewhere? We brought locks to put on your door and windows. You know, just in case."

You nod, quiet, and lead him to your room where you keep most of the most useful stuff you own, including but not limited to a toolbox and a first aid kit.

Your movements were almost mechanical as you retrieved the box and handed it to him, and you decided to help him put up the locks to keep your mind occupied.

He was concerned. You looked like you were still in choc, which he could completely understand. Getting robbed is awful in itself, but getting robbed while you're sleeping in the next room? Horrific, in his mind.

He was also furious. He couldn't be there for you. This person had the nerves to go after his friend, and what if you got hurt? He wouldn't have been able to do anything about it.

He noticed he was staring when your eyes met his.

"Hey. We're gonna do whatever we can to find them. We're also gonna focus our patrols in your neighborhood for at least a few weeks, until you feel better," he puts a hand on your shoulder. "It's gonna be okay Y/N. Trust me."

You look up to him, and when you look into his eyes, you know he means it. You let your head fall against his plastron as he holds you against him, a silent promise for safety.

"Hey shorty," Raph pulls his head into the crack of the door to address you. "Wanna learn how to fight? I can turn you into a death machine."

You heard the faint "Raph, what the fuck" coming from Mikey who was still in the living room.

You gave a small laugh as you got up, Leo following you closely to the living room.

"Hey! Fighting isn't for everyone. But I could make you a really cool taser, if you want."

"What's with you and tasers?"

"They're efficient."

The bell ringed and April came in holding 4 boxes of pizza, that Mikey assisted her with as soon as she set a foot inside.

You looked around at your friends as April brandished the pizzas like a trophy while Raph and Donnie went back and forth trying to decide who, between man power and electricity, would win in a fight.

And you realized that yes, Leo was right.

It's gonna be okay.

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part One

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: I’ve written a decent portion of this but know I won’t keep writing it or post it unless I hold myself accountable and get it out there in the first place 🙈 I haven’t written much for Marvel yet but I’ve read plenty and have written for other fandoms in the past (not to mention the writing degree on my wall lol). I’ll try to post every 2-3 days to keep this moving! And if you like it and want to, buy me a coffee!

No one knew Tony Stark had a daughter. No one but Tony Stark and his daughter. Well, and her step-mom Pepper. And her godfather Rhodey. And her uncle-not-uncle Happy. But no one in their everyday lives knew. She was given her mother’s maiden name and kept a secret, even when she turned 17 and moved to a small apartment near NYU’s campus (with Happy stationed right next door, of course) to start life as a truly normal adult, or as close to normal as an undercover Stark could be. When she graduated with her PhDs in robotics and electrical engineering at 25 — proving brains really do run in the family — she moved into her own apartment in Manhattan, funded by her father under the pseudonym “Michael Myers.” Subtlety was never his strong suit.

Fortunately for you, growing up without the Stark name let you live a relatively normal life. It also allowed you to apply for a position within Stark Industries without being ushered past any red tape because of who your father is. Outside of the financial advantage you had, you worked for your spot in a STEM career. You suffered through every man in your field belittling your work despite knowing less than you. You dealt with the constant interruptions and “well, actually” because of your gender. You powered through late nights and early mornings when your mind was flowing too smoothly to quit.

The last thing you wanted to do was have all that work disregarded because you shared a name with genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark. So you filled out the application, sent in your resume and cover letter, and attached three letters of recommendation from your professors. You went through hours of interviews, background checks (conveniently redacting your father’s name), and polygraph tests until that offer letter showed up in your email. You even had to sign the Non-Disclosure Agreements that would bar you from discussing *anything* work-related with anyone outside of your department.

You spent your first year in the weapons analysis department, evaluating alien weaponry and determining how it worked and how to disable it. You had your fair share of mishaps, of course. Holes blasted into walls, fried robot dummies, even burnt animal carcasses. By the end of your first year, your supervisor sent a commendation and proposal for you for an undisclosed promotion. After Pepper Potts “thoroughly examined your resume, cover letter, and accomplishments during your tenure with Stark Industries,” as the letter read, you were awarded a position working on the Avengers’ weapons as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist. You’d never see a fight in-person, but you were assigned to work on advancements and post-battle repairs for everyone, from the Winter Soldier’s arm to the Falcon’s wings to Vision’s... everything. The only heroes you wouldn’t work on were Iron Man and War Machine (those were your dad’s territory) and Spider-Man.

On your first day in your new position, the one and only Pepper Potts showed you to your new lab on the 47th floor. It took all your willpower to look your step-mother in the eye and say, “Wow, Miss Potts. This is amazing. It’s such an honor to meet you,” with a straight face to convince any passerby that you had no outside affiliation with her. Even if her eyes stayed steady on you, you could see her mentally rolling them.

Once you were alone behind the doors of the elevator, conversation changed course.

“You’re going to be sharing a lab with someone else,” Pepper said.

“Sweet. As long as they’re competent, that’s fine by me,” you shrugged. Part of earning your degrees was learning to share a workspace with others, even those who bumbled and fumbled with no idea what they were doing. You’d had more hair singed by nearby explosions than you’d like to admit.

“He’s still in college so he’s not here as often as the others. Most of his work will be on Spider-Man’s gadgets and suit, but you can use him for any help you need.”

Walking past the familiar faces of Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho in their respective labs, Pepper ushered you into your lab, where you were met by your father and put on the same excited facade you did with Pepper.

“Oh my god, you’re Tony Stark! This is incredible! It’s such an honor to meet you, sir!”

He shook his head at you and reluctantly accepted your outstretched hand. Oh, the jokes you’d be making at family dinners.

“Yeah, anyway, this is your new lab, Miss [Y/L/N]. Make yourself at home. This lab rat over here is mister Parker. If you have any questions, he can at least bullshit an answer for you.”

The young man on the other side of the lab perked up at the sound of his name. He tugged the goggles off his face and set down his soldering rod to rush over to you.

“Hi. Hi, I’m Peter,” he said, reaching his hand out to you.

“I’m [Y/N]. It’s nice to meet you, lab partner.”

He looked to be a bit younger than you and at least relatively smart, if the MIT sweatshirt peeking out from under his lab coat said anything. If your dad gave him an internship like this, you knew you shouldn’t question it. He had to be a genius.

The kid just smiled at you, continuing to shake your hand past what most would deem socially acceptable.

“Okay, enough of that,” Tony said, pushing on your joined hands to separate you two. “Mister Parker might be in and out of the lab from time to time. He joins the Avengers on the occasional recon mission for immediate repairs but since he’s on break from classes, you’ll see him more often than not. Play nice.”

When he noticed you surreptitiously looking Peter up and down, he added, “Remember, no fraternizing with coworkers.” He pointed a finger directly at you before he spun and pointed to your fellow lab mate, realizing he should warn Peter too to save face.

“All the blueprints you need for the Tin Man’s arm are in the system. We’ll have you start on that and see what you can do about minimizing the sound that thing makes. Any other questions, give Pep a call.”

“Thank you, mister Stark. I really do appreciate everything,” you said genuinely.

“Yeah, well… don’t let me down,” he replied, patting you on the shoulder on his way out. Pepper followed close behind, leaving you alone with Peter Parker.

“So Peter,” you started, sliding onto the lab chair next to where he remained standing, “tell me about yourself.”

“Uh… what do you want to know?” he asked as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“How old are you?” you asked immediately.

“I’m 21.”

Only four years younger than you. So you’d probably get along just fine.

“I assume you’re at MIT?” He nodded. “What are you studying?”

“Biomolecular and mechanical engineering.” He said it so casually, you’d think he was talking about the last song he heard on the radio.

“Damn,” you responded, eyes wide. “I thought robotics and electrical engineering was wild but fuck, that sounds like hell.”

He laughed and nodded, letting a bit of the tension in his shoulders fall. “Yeah, it’s not easy. But it’s worth it.”

He shot you a small smile before gesturing back at his project. “I should probably get back to work and let you get started.”

For the rest of the day, you familiarized yourself with the Winter Soldier’s arm to figure out how to… turn the volume down? You assumed it was the gears inside causing the noise, but part of you wanted to outfit an audio jack and speaker just to fuck with your dad.

You and Peter worked in relative silence, aside from the playlist he had quietly playing through the lab sound system. When lunch rolled around, however, you finally spoke up.

“Hey Peter,” you called, his eyes flicking from the chemical beakers in front of him up to you. “First of all, what are you doing?”

“Um, it’s Spider-Man’s web fluid. Just trying to find more durable combinations.”

“Interesting.” As much as you wanted to touch the stringy substance, you knew better than to fiddle with someone else’s lab work. “Okay so second thing, in my last position, I’d just order food and have it brought to my floor but now that I’m on an exclusive floor, what do you do for lunch?”

“Oh, there are a couple security guys who have clearance to come into this floor. They just can’t get into any rooms so you’d have to meet them at the elevator. But I usually find something in the kitchen down the hall.”

“Oh, sweet. Thanks!” you said as you made your way out the door. Before you could fully exit, you turned back to see if Peter wanted you to grab anything. Once he promised he’d take his own break ‘once I get this one thing figured out,’ you continued to make your way to the kitchen.

As you drew closer to the doorway, you could hear three voices speaking over each other. They didn’t sound angry, but they were definitely arguing. You opened the door anyway and almost immediately froze in your tracks. The Falcon stood with one hand on his own head and one on the Winter Soldier’s head while Captain America rolled his eyes before those same eyes landed on you, along with the rest of the room.

“Perfect,” Sam started. “Hey new girl, between the three of us,” he said, pointing to himself, the Soldier, and the Captain, “who has the best hair?”

“First of all, my name is [Y/N]. Second,” you continued, making your way past them to the fridge you hoped your dad kept stocked with goodies, “that’s an unfair question.”

You grabbed a soda and popped it open before turning back to the three men. “Your hair suits each of you. Cap wouldn’t look good with Winter Soldier hair and Falcon wouldn’t look good with Cap’s hair.” You took a few steps closer, leaning against the island counter between you and eyeing each of them. Your eyes settled on the Winter Soldier, unashamedly flitting across his face and admiring the sharpness of his features. “You,” pointing at him, “could probably pull off either of their looks, though.”

Bucky smirked at you, but his rosy cheeks gave away a hint of embarrassment at your compliment. Steve and Sam, on the other hand, weren’t taking it quite as gracefully.

“What?!” Sam shouted. “Okay, now I know you’re lying. I could pull off Cap’s hair for sure.”

“You know, I think shaggy hair would really suit me,” Cap said, only half sarcastically.

You giggled to yourself as the three of them started talking over each other again, all dead set on their own hair being the best of them and positive they could pull off the others’ looks. While they bickered, you searched the pantry until you found a snack to at least get you through the remainder of the day.

“Alright boys, it’s been fun but I have work to do,” you said as you walked past them again. “Actually, wait. Bucky — can I call you Bucky?” He nodded even though you continued anyway. “If you could stop by lab six today, I’d love to check out your arm in person. The digital renderings aren’t quite the same.”

“Uh, okay. Sure. I’ll find you,” he said quietly.

“Sweet, thanks!” And with that, you skedaddled back to your lab.

[ohheyitsokay]

Hello!!! I have come with a soulmate au request: could you write one with Benny Miller, where the voice inside your head is yoursoulmates voice. And he's just like "omg! You're the one with the beautiful voice!"

Everyone, say thank you to @fangirl-316 for being the very first person on my taglist, and thus one of the main reasons I'm still writing.

My dear, please consider this fic a very small portion of my thank you, for how far that encouragement went.

warnings: so much fluff it's not even funny

>>

soulmate requests

<<

You and your soulmate lead quite different lives - you only heard his voice saying your thoughts every couple of days at first. It was supposed to happen when you had a thought that could've been one of theirs, normally something simple about needing to get groceries or hoping for rain.

But, the majority of thoughts the two of you shared were "Ouch." A deep, warm voice would boom through your mind, filling it like broth in a bowl on a cold day - comforting, but confusing. It made you wonder if your soulmate was clumsy, like you, or if he got himself into trouble.

He didn't share your complaints, though, and that simple realization bloomed into a full, indulgent daydream. If he got hurt, but didn't complain... maybe you're soulmate was strong, in all the good, selfless ways that heroes were. The daydream fit, and stuck, and it became your mission mission learn more about him whenever you could

It didn't take you long to learn how kind he was, after all. "No worries," he'd say, and you could almost hear his smile, or "I've got you."

And when you were being your most kind, your most thoughtful, you heard him more than ever. It was sweet, inspiring, his unintentional little encouragement to help your neighbors or lighten the mood.

So one day, deep in your longing to meet the one who's voice was rich as a hot meal from a diner, you took a risk.

He made you feel adventurous, grand, his voice in your mind, as he encouraged the world to do it's worst. The ferocity in which his tone reinforced your moments of confidance were like shots of caffeine in your bloodstream. You were certain he was a protector, a - a fighter.

For him.

Your cousin had become interested in a professional fighting ring by a girl at her gym, and had been begging you to come with. So you took the risk, and allowed yourself to be dragged into a chaotic room full of sweaty boddies and goading cheers.

People were yelling to talk to each other, a triumphant man was soaking in adoration, and your feet stuck to the floor.

The next fight had already started, and as you squeezed into a place you could see, your heart stopped. Above you, solid legs, a bare chest heaving with deep breaths, broad shoulders. From your angle, you could see half a grin, and one of the most beautiful blue eyes you'd ever seen.

Benjamin - Benny - Miller, someone said.

Then he was moving, fuid and fast, like he was animated, and you watched, enraptured. You barely processed his opponent, just a man in contrasting colors, as you stared. The noise became an afterthought, and the back of your mind registered your cousin moving away to search for her friend.

Still you couldn't move, you were planted, still as a statue as your heart began to beat again, pouting unevenly as you watched.

Was it normal? To be filled with liquid fire and to hope desperately for a fighter's safety and triumph at the same time?

It was just.... adrenaline. It was because you were new to this. Everyone around you probably felt as intensely as you did about every thud of gloves against skin, at one point in their lives, anyway.

The noise came back in full, as you were reminded how out of place you were.

"You want anything, honey?" The waitress had pity in her eyes.

A gloved fist came in contact with a perfect jaw.

Ouch.

His voice, as always.

"No, thank you." You didn't even look at her, wondering and watching as your injured hero smiled to himself a little bit.

-

"I don't believe you," you stared suspiciously.

"No, she's telling the truth." Looking between your cousin and her friend, you felt your fight or flight response kick in.

"I just feel silly." Involuntarily, you backed away. They were insisting you push through the sweaty crowd, accross the sticky floor, to talk to him. They promised it was normal. "I wouldn't wouldn't know what to say."

They both looked at each other, and your cousin shrugged. It was true - as desperately as you wanted to encourage him, you'd barely made a peep during the fight. Instead you stared, almost forgetting to breathe, and eyes almost drying out as you ignored the insitict to blink, least you miss a single second. Even after your embarrassment reared it's head, you'd felt strange - both invisible and like you were alone in the crowd, your willpower alone his encouragement. Cheering felt impossible, your tongue was dry in your mouth as you thought wishes into the universe. Prayers, for him or to him, you weren't quite sure.

Relenting, your cousin gave you a more gentle look, before saying changing the topic. It emboldened you, her kindness, as your soulmate said, "Thank you," to her for you, and you slipped away. The fighter deserved a lite of your praise, after all. Looking in the blue of his eyes seemed impossible, but you found the waitress from before.

So what could you say, now that he was surrounded by friends and fans, clapping the smooth of his shoulder and ruffling his seemingly silken hair?

Meekly you shook your head, trying not to look at him from across the room.

"Hey, hun, how can I help you?" She paused, curious and fair, a testament to the establishment.

"Would you..." you fidgeted. The request felt silly, like kids in a school yard, whispering telephone crushes.

"Just do it, talk to her."

"I just wanted to ask if - "

"Oh my God," a deep voice, from directly behind you. It cut through the chatter and shouts of the crowd, surprised and insistent. The waitress cocked an eyebrow and you turned, following her gaze.

"You're the one with the beautiful voice!"

Benjamin Miller was standing, close, the crowd behind him still marked from his rapid path to you. His eyes were wide, staring into yours like he wasn't sure if you were real.

Staring back, you panicked, wondering when he had even heard you before you registered.

His voice -

He was hugging you. Muscles and fat squishing alike, bones near creaking, you never wanted him to let go. He had changed, wearing soft clothes that smelled like sunshine, and his hands were pressing you against his bruises and God, you didn't want him to let go.

It could've been four seconds, it could've been four thousand before your feet felt like they were on solid ground.

"I knew when I saw you," his voice was loud, excited, before he seemed to realize he was still close, gripping you tightly. Jumping back, his hands ran over his face, and through his hair.

"Sorry I just -" suddenly, he looked almost shy, doubt flooding his eyes, the fear that he wasn't yours at the forefront of his mind.

"Hi," you said, grabbing one of his hands before it could stray out of reach. The nervousness from before seemed offensive, suddenly, because you knew him. This was the man who lived and breathed and thought encouragement and honesty and laughter.

You said your name, and when you half-laughed, giddy with bravery, he couldn't help but relax. "You're my soulmate," you said, more certain than you had ever been.

His own doubts abandoned, a warm hand wrapped around your neck, tiliting your face closer to his.

It was perfect, how he was laughing now, too, just as earnest and brave as you always knew he would be.

"Nice to meet you."

<<

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk