#and I already go to the bingo and play darts

[justjaymi]

I’m in desperate need of new shows to watch!! I’ve been permanently off work sick for 7 weeks now (!!!) and I’ve rewatched Good Omens, and finished Our Flag Means Death and Prodigal Son, as well as many many many more. I love anything with Michael Sheen/David Tennant, and anything a bit fruity (and everything else, to be honest), but I just need the recommendations.

Please help.

[storiesofsvu]

The Game

Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: language, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, slight role playing, teasing, public foreplay, semi public sex, fingering, oral, smut. covers a bingo square (bolded prompt). 2700 words of pure porn. Yup. we've plunged into a new character pool besties. If you want to not miss out, sign up for the taglist here!

“Is this seat taken?”

You glanced up from your phone, lips curving up into a grin at the dark haired man in front of you, “it is now.”

It was the same as always, this little game you played when life got a little too busy, a little too boring, home life stale needing to be spiced up once again. You’d find a bar, not your regular spot, one that would be empty enough you’d have your own space but busy enough for no one to realize what was going on. Tucked away in a dark corner in a private booth Aaron slid onto the bench beside you, a fresh drink placed in front of you. Your eyes found the drink, following his hand up to his body, flicking up to his face and you smiled in appreciation. He had a crisp navy button up on, sleeves rolled up, one more button than normal undone exposing his chest and you wanted nothing more than to bury your face into the crook of his neck, leaving him with a mark for tomorrow.

But that’s not the order the game was played in. And you knew it.

It started out innocently enough, as if you had run into each other accidentally, chatting about your weeks, catching up with the other person. Slowly relaxing as you finished your first round of drinks before Aaron would disappear to grab refills and this time he slid into the booth he would slide closer to you, an arm draped over the back of the seat, fingers softly playing with your hair, tracing patterns across the bare skin of your shoulder and neck. You let out a giggle when you caught his eyes dragging down the column of your neck, lingering on your exposed cleavage as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“You like what you see?” You asked, sly grin on your lips and he chuckled.

“Very much.”

“Shame we’re not in private so you can touch.”

He chuckled, his hand tickling across the back of your neck before curling around your cheek while he leant in, “I can think of a few other things I can do.” His breath was hot on your lips as he spoke, a small laugh on your lips as your eyes fluttered shut and his lips met yours.

As your lips moved with ease against each others his free hand moved to your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze before his fingertips started dancing up your inner thigh. His teeth nipped at your lower lip and you moaned into the kiss, the noise swallowed by Aaron while his hand got closer and closer to where you wanted it, sliding under your skirt. Instinctively you parted your legs, shifting on the bench to give him easier access right as his tongue slipped into your mouth. It moved with grace against yours, rolling deeper, not leaving an inch of you unexplored until you were whining into the kiss and he broke it with a dark chuckle. His hand finally cupped your pussy and he raised a brow at you,

“No panties? Dirty girl was ready for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” You breathed out, your lips already kiss swollen, pupils blown in the low light of the bar.

“Yes what?” He asked, pinching at your thigh and you squeaked.

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” He leant forward, pressing a quick kiss to your lips and you couldn’t help but grind down toward his hand, pulling another laugh from him. “Suppose you want me to touch you, hmm?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, “please sir.” His thumb began to press slow lazy circles on your clit and you let out a quiet gasp, reaching out to pick up your drink in an attempt to not give in right away.

Because this was when the game leveled up. Aaron would slowly start to torment you while continuing the conversation from earlier. Asking you to keep telling him about your run in with a neighbour, the client at work who expected you to do things for half the cost, whatever mediocre boring things to keep your lips moving and you focussed on anything other than what was going on between your legs. His thumb would press harder every so often before his fingers were rubbing through your folds, finger tips teasing you, barely slipping into your cunt. His eyes would remain on you, watching the way your breathing was picking up, the curve of your chest rising quicker with each ministration of his hand under the table. Your words got breathier, more spaced apart as you tried to keep telling the story and somewhat keep your composure. When you’d finally finished answering his last question he was silent, thumb still toying with your clit while his fingers traced through you, simply smearing you wetness around. He reached out to pick up his beer, taking a swig before placing it back down on the table top and then he leant in, his words husked into the shell of your ear.

“So wet for me already. Tell me, did you touch yourself while I was gone?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?” He murmured, leaving a kiss just below your ear.

“Not the same.” You whined, your hips rocking toward his touch, begging for more.

“Oh you poor thing.” He chuckled, nipping at your earlobe, “can’t make yourself come anymore? Have I ruined you?”

“Yes!” It came out as a strangled whine of frustration and Aaron quietly laughed again.

This was when the game shifted up another step, he would amp it up, instead of making boring small talk, he would be whispering the filthiest things into your ear, his hands anywhere on your body that couldn’t be seen and you had to keep composure.

“Well that is a shame.” He cupped your pussy once more before a thick finger slid in and you let out a quiet gasp, hands clutching at the side of the table. “How about that? Does that feel good?” His nose nudge at the side of your jaw as his finger thrusted in and out of you and you did your best not to shudder.

“Yes… oh fuck…”

Your head dropped closer to his shoulder, to anyone passing by it just seemed like the two of you were in an intimate, flirtatious conversation. Little giggles and teases flitting between the two of you as things got cozier, as the alcohol sunk in, lowering inhibitions. When it reality, your pussy was pulsing around his finger already, the heel of his hand brushing at your swollen clit. He curled his finger and your hand squeezed around his free arm as you let out a shuddering breath and he knew he’d found the sensitive spot inside you.

“Right there hmm?” He asked with a tease in his voice, a gleam in his eyes as he watched the heat creep up your neck. “Think I should add another finger? Fuck you faster?” He grazed past the spot again and you bit back a moan, your teeth digging into your lower lip as you nodded.

“Please sir. Oh god… please keep going.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart.” He kissed the side of your neck softly, “I wasn’t planning on stopping until your legs are shaking and this pussy is drenched.”

A second finger slid into your pussy and you groaned quietly at the sensation, your pussy fluttering around them as Aaron continued to pump them deep as he could into you. You could feel your juices smearing along your thighs, dripping down his wrist as each thrust pulled more out of you and you began to twitch. His free hand shifted up, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your head up to meet his gaze so he could truly watch you as he fingered you.

“So fucking gorgeous.” He murmured, leaning in for a kiss, his tongue instantly slipping into your mouth. Your whines were swallowed down by the kiss as his hand sped up, the wet sounds coming from your cunt drowning in the noise of the bar. “Always so pretty for me.” His lips began to trace down your jaw, “so fucking hot when you’re on your knees for me, you love my cock in your mouth, don’t you?”

“Yes..” You breathed out and with what composed thoughts you had left your hand found its way to his lap, palming at his length through his pants and he groaned softly. You could feel that he was already hard, straining against the fabric, no doubt as turned on as you were in that moment. Your hand wrapped around his cock, squeezing softly and he grunted quietly, curling his fingers again and you gasped. “Oh god Aaron… feels so good… pl.. please don’t stop.”

“You gonna come for me?” He mumbled, fighting the urge to rock his own hips up as you continued to palm at him, his cock getting harder with each little noise that escaped your lips.

“So close…” You mumbled, your pussy clenching down around his fingers, your words coming out in pants. His fingers twisted and scissored, stretching you out, knowing that you’d be begging for his cock in a matter of minutes and he had to make sure you were ready. You felt your thighs begin to shake, your vision going hazy when he curled his fingers again, pumping harder and faster, “oh fuck Aaron!”

Your cry was almost a little too loud, but a second later his lips were on yours again, silencing your moans and whimpers as your orgasm swept over you, your thighs trembling. You nearly attempted to close your legs but his arm kept them nicely spread open for him, juices dripping down his hand as you shivered. He gently pulled his fingers from you and you whined at the loss, causing him to laugh quietly.

“That was the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

“Need your cock.” You whispered, barely having caught your breath, “please sir.”

Aaron wasn’t one to deny you, especially when you were looking up at him with that pout on your lips, the neediness in your eyes prevalent and he knew you weren’t going to get very far without getting what you wanted. He glanced around quickly to make sure no one had caught on to what was going on in the darkened booth before pulling you around the corner to an unused storage room. The door was instantly locked and his arms wound around you, lips finding yours for a burning kiss, this one possessive and full of fire now that you were behind closed doors. He groaned into the kiss when you rutted your hips against him, his cock twitching in his pants, aching to plunge into your heat.

He backed you into the wall, hands squeezing at your ass and you followed his lead, hopping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. You couldn’t help but grind down against him, your pussy dragging along his length, smearing wetness onto the crotch of his pants. One of his hands bunched your skirt up to your waist before swiftly undoing his belt and pulling down the zipper.

“Aaron please…” you whined and he chuckled.

“Patience sweetheart.” He murmured back, his mouth making home in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting at the tender skin, pulling moans from you as your head dropped back against the wall.

He freed his cock from his pants, thick and throbbing in his hand, pre-cum leaking from the head that he smeared around himself, pumping a couple of times before he rutted forward. He rubbed his cock up and down your slit, the head brushing your pulsing clit and you groaned, your hands clutching at his body, nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to push yourself down towards him. Finally he lined himself up and sunk deep into your pussy, a mutual moan coming from both of you and your head fell forward.

“Fuck..” he muttered breathlessly, “so fucking tight for me.”

“Move, please.” You begged, nipping at his lip.

“You want me to fuck you hard and fast? Hmm?” He asked, his cock twitching inside you already as you squeezed down around him.

“Yes, oh god yes.”

Aaron pulled his hips back so just the tip was left inside your heat and then plunged back into you with a forceful thrust, a grunt in the back of his throat. He filled you completely, stretching you just perfectly in a way that made you shiver with pleasure, your body breaking out in goosebumps as his hips pounded into you. Your arms wound tighter around his shoulders, bracing yourself on him as he fucked you against the wall, each pump of his hips his cock dragged passed the sensitive spots of your pussy, you could feel every ridge and vein of him and it was already having you seeing stars.

“So good…” you moaned.

“Take me so well sweetheart.” He panted, his lips searching yours out to steal breathless kisses. One of his hands crept up your body, groping at your chest through your shirt, pinching at your nipples and you were moaning into the kiss, your pussy fluttering around him and his hips nearly faltered at the sensation. “Love this fucking pussy.” He muttered, his mouth finding the crook of your neck again, “who does this pussy belong to?”

“You!” You gasped out when he bit into your skin, “you sir, oh fuck..”

Your body felt like it was on fire, pleasure shooting through you, ready to break through from just under your skin, your legs already beginning to tremble around him. Aaron knew just how to angle his hips to fuck you deeper with each thrust, hitting every spot you needed to drive you absolutely wild. He could feel your pussy clenching down harder, your wetness completely surrounding him and his cock throbbed. His hand snuck between your bodies, pinching at your clit before he began to rub at it.

“Come for me sweetheart.” He grunted, “wanna feel you come on my cock.”

“Fuck..” you whimpered, your hips rocking up to meet his with each touch of his hand and push of his hips. His cock nudged deep within you right as his fingers rubbed harder on your pulsing nub and you cried out, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Oh fuck..” he muttered, “that’s it… god.” The way you squeezed around him was absolutely heavenly, he could feel every flutter of your pussy as he continued to drive into you, chasing his own release that he knew wasn’t far off. One of your legs dropped from around his waist and he slipped out of you, “on your knees.”

You eagerly dropped down in front of him, hand darting out to wrap around his cock, pumping it a few times to smear your juices around as you glanced up at him from under your lashes. That alone was almost enough to have him coming and you smirked at the way he twitched in your hand. Leaning forward you wrapped your lips around his cock, sinking down until your nose was brushing against dark curls and his hands tangled into your hair. You hallowed your cheeks, tongue tracing patterns around him as you sucked him deeper between your lips. You bobbed a couple of times, each time taking him further into your throat and a moment later he was grunting above you, hand keeping your head down on his cock as his cum spilled into your mouth.

You sucked hard around him, making sure you had swallowed down every last drop as he braced himself against the wall above you. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand you stood up on shaky legs, happy when a sturdy arm wrapped around you, pulling you close to him so he could kiss you on the forehead while he tucked himself back into his pants.

“Time for another round of drinks?” You offered, raising a brow and him and he laughed, the carnal darkness returning to his eyes.

“Oh I don’t think so.” He smirked, “I’m going to take you home and absolutely devour that pretty pussy.”

_________________

@unsubologyy @alexusonfire @svushots @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar

[jerzwriter]

High Score

Book: Open Heart (Prequel - Casey's Medical School Years)

Pairing: F!MC (Casey MacTavish) x F!OC (Jessica Phillips)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia including a slur

Words: 1,545

Summary: Casey and her girlfriend Jessica are both busy med school students with conflicting schedules, and they're both eagerly looking forward to sharing lunch at "their" diner. One idiot nearly derails their plans, but the women won't let him win.

A/N: This is based on a real event from my past, and the game really was called "King Kong." The picture in the header, however, is Donkey Kong because there are no pictures of the cheap knockoff out there! lol Participating in @choicesjunechallenge - romance, love, Pride Month, @choicespride and @choicesficwriterscreations pride bingo

“Fuck!” Jessica groaned.

She swore she’d pay attention. There was no way she was missing her stop this time. With competing hectic schedules, Jessica hadn’t seen Casey in nearly a week, and, except for this lunch date, they wouldn’t see each other again until the weekend. So she was not wasting five precious minutes of their time because she missed her bus stop. But in the end, she did.

Pressing the buzzer frantically, she grabbed the books that caused this whole mess and darted to the front of the bus, barely waiting for it to come to a full stop before jumping off. She walked frantically down the street and shook her head when she saw her reflection in the diner’s window. Quickly slicking back the errant red locks that had slipped out of her ponytail in the mele and applying lip gloss before entering. But it was for naught. Casey was already smirking in her direction as she walked in. She nudged a vanilla shake toward Jessica’s seat just before she leaned over the table for a quick kiss. 

“Glad to see you’re right on time,” Casey teased.

“Hey, it’s just five minutes!” Jessica protested; looking at her watch, she corrected herself. “No, it’s four minutes. If I hadn’t put on lip gloss for you, I could have shaved off 30 seconds! But I wanted to be pretty for you.”

Casey’s eyes crinkled as she giggled. “Oh please, you’re beautiful without a stitch of makeup. And I’m not naïve – you just tidied up out there in an attempt to conceal that you missed the bus stop… again.”

Jessica’s shoulders dropped in defeat, and she reached across the table, lacing her fingers with Casey’s.

“I was studying for my biostats exam. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Casey grinned a smile so warm Jessica was instantly at ease. “I get that more than anyone. But far be it for me not to tease you.”

The waitress arrived and placed two cheeseburgers with sweet potato fries before the two women.

“You ordered for me?” Jess asked.

“I didn’t mean to be presumptuous, but you order the same thing every time we come here. And, if you wanted something else, I figured I’d just wrap your food and take it home for dinner.”

“Oh,” Jess winked as she stuck a fry in her mouth. “What are you, rich now?”

“Yes, I’m loaded in cheeseburger and fry money,” Casey laughed. “I just figured I’d get the ball rolling. I know you – you’ll need to play that damn Donkey Kong knockoff in the back before we leave, and forgive me for wanting maybe 10 minutes of makeout time with my girlfriend before we have to go our separate ways.”

“It’s called King Kong, and yes. I do have to play. Need to ensure I still occupy all top ten spots!”

“Afraid you don’t,” the waitress said while refilling their water glasses. “I noticed someone bumped you out of first this morning.”

“OUT OF FIRST!” Jess gasped. “Not even fifth or eighth, but first!”

“Wow, with how you’re grasping numbers, that biostat exam should be a cakewalk for you,” Casey snickered.

Jessica shot Casey a look and squeezed her hand tighter. “Well, you better finish that burger quickly if you want a makeout session! I have to knock that fucker down to at least third place.”

Casey couldn’t help but laugh; she already knew the makeout session wasn’t happening. Her girlfriend was obsessed with old arcade games from the 80s. That’s one of the reasons this was their favorite diner. But King Kong was where she excelled, and she proudly boasted that she always claimed at least eight of the top ten scores, and always the top three. She knew Jess well enough to know someone else being in first was unacceptable, and vengeance must be had.

“Who was it?” Jess demanded of the waitress. “Do you know who beat me?”

The waitress looked uneasily between Casey and Jessica before she let the name out. “Dirk. You know, that tall guy who….”

Jessica threw her napkin to the table. “Oh, I know Dirk.” She spat, jumping to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Casey asked the waitress to wrap their food, then quickly followed after her girlfriend. One thing Jessica loved about King Kong was having twelve characters next to each of her high scores. Each spot proudly proclaimed JESSLUVSCASE. But at the mention of Dirk’s name, both women knew this was about more than a high score.

The small dark room that housed the three games was empty this time of day, which was for the best; Casey’s heart sank at the sight of Jess hunched over the game when she entered. Jess’s face was red as she valiantly tried to hold back angry tears, though one or two had won their battle as they trailed down her cheeks. Casey peered over her girlfriend’s shoulder and let out a sigh, her suspicions confirmed. She looped her arms around Jessica’s waist.

“Don’t let it upset you. He wants it to upset you… to upset us… don’t let him win.”

“If he said me,” Jess’s voice trembled. “If he used my name and not yours, then I…”

Casey looked at the screen again… nine rows of JESSLUVSCASE topped by one CASEYISADYKE.

“Jess,” Casey whispered. “He’s a fucking moron. I mean, come on… he didn’t even get it right. I’m as femme as they come.”

That got a little laugh, but Jess was still crestfallen. “Do you think that asshole even knows the difference?”

“Nope. I don’t. But he’s an ignorant piece of shit, Jess, and I’m not letting him ruin the little time I have with you this week.”

Jess let out a breath and wiped away a tear. “I was planning on playing. So… you don’t mind if I play now… do you?”

Casey raised a brow at her girlfriend. “You’re going to play until you knock that off. Aren’t you?”

“You better fucking believe I am. I’m sorry, Casey, but if you want to make out, it will have to be right here, between games, because I’m not leaving until that shit’s gone.”

“As much as I appreciate you defending my honor, Jess, you don’t have to….”

“Can you run and get me quarters?” Jess interrupted.

“Jess, I said….”

“Casey! Quarters!”

“All right, then,” Casey saluted.

For the next hour, Casey made jokes about the dexterity of Jess’s wrists, quizzed her on carpel tunnel syndrome, teased it was a good thing she didn’t want to be a surgeon and more as Jessica focused on bumping Dirk and his bigotry off the board. A bright grin crossed her face as she entered JESSLUVSCASE one last time, then she fell back into a nearby stool. Casey moved toward her and took her hand.

“My hero,” she smiled. “You know, I appreciate it, but he could just come back and do it again tomorrow.”

“It took the fucker a year to get on the board. I doubt he’ll do it again easily… besides….” She stopped.

“Besides, what?”

“He’s in a lab across the hall from me today. And when I’m through threatening his ass, he won’t be so quick to do it again.”

Casey lifted her hand and caressed Jess’s tear-stained cheek. Offering a tender kiss before nuzzling her head on her shoulder.

“I’m a little amazed at you,” Jess said. “You’re taking this too well.”

Casey shrugged. “It’s not that I’m not upset… but I know Neanderthals like Dirk that will never change. Besides…” Casey grinned.

“Besides what?”

“I’m already fantasizing about the things I’m going to do to that sweet little car he’s always bragging about.”

“Casey MacTavish!” Jessica laughed. “As enticing as that is… I don’t want you to be charged with vandalism. That would be terrible for you when looking for a residency placement.”

“You’re assuming I’d be caught,” Casey winked. “You forget, I grew up in Philly. I know a thing or two.”

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid….”

“Like ever? That’s a tall order, Jess.”

Jess pulled Casey close in her arms. “I’m sorry we don’t have time for that makeout session. I know how much that means to you.”

“Means to me?” Casey gasped. “Geeze, I like to think it means something to you, too!”

“It does,” Jess laughed. “Come stay over with me tonight. Let me make it up to you.”

“But your roommate hates me,” Casey sighed. 

“She doesn’t hate you… she dislikes… everyone. Besides, fuck her.”

“Well, I’d rather fuck you, but….”

The two women laughed, and it warmed Casey’s heart to see Jess genuinely smile.

“Fine, I’ll endure Bertha the horrible, just for you….”

“You won’t even see her! But you’ll see me,” Jess smiled. “Casey, I’m so glad you’re part of my life.”

“And I’m glad you’re part of mine. Not everyone is willing to risk carpel tunnel syndrome a week before exams to defend my honor.”

“Well, if they’re unwilling to do that, they don’t deserve you!”

“Here,” Casey said, holding up the take-out bag. “It’s your lunch. Now, get your bus before you’re late for class.”

“Thank you. But I promise you, I won’t be late tonight. My place at 8:00?”  

“Nothing could keep me away.”

Tagging in reblog.

[merryfortune]

a white milk moustache.

Written for the Winter Holiday Bingo

Prompts provided by @sweetspicybingo

Prompt: Milk & Cookies

Title: 

Ship: Takumi/Yui

Fandom: Delicious Party Pretty Cure

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,557

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, Crushes, Pining, Pre-Canon, Food as a Metaphor for Love

   Takumi did not pride himself on being on time.

   In the metaphorical sense. Not a literal one.

   Literally, he was quite the punctual young man. However, metaphorically, he was very rarely at the right place at the right time. He was either too soon - hyper prepared for a scenario which never comes to fruition - or too late - hyper prepared for a scenario which never came to fruition. He was very good at sticking his foot in his mouth in his own unique way of being socially awkward.

   Surprisingly, this was not one of these times.

   “Good timing, Takumi-kun, I just got these cookies out of the oven. Want to eat them with me?” Yui asked, beaming. She looked adorable with a smile which was ear to ear. 

   The whole of her house smelled delicious. It always did, of course. Her family’s restaurant was award winning and very successful. However, usually, it smelt delicious with savoury smells. Not sweet ones, like perfectly cooked vanilla and a hint of chocolate.

   “I’d like that.” Takumi replied.

   He’d only come around to Yui’s place on a whim. He was already on top of his homework, there was nothing good to watch on television and it was pretty boring to sit around all day staring at the wall. At least doing that last thing with Yui would be preferable to doing it all by himself.

   “Then come and sit down. I’ll get us some plates.” Yui said.

   She grabbed Takumi’s hand and pulled him past the threshold of where her house started and where her family’s restaurant stopped. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and she darted off into the back room where the sun room was. She was way too fast for Takumi, especially on slick lacquered floors in just her socks but despite being loud and boisterous as she was, Yui never slipped and never took Takumi down with her.

   She laughed as she dumped him on the edge of the sun room and it was there, so close to the open plan kitchen, where the smell of cookies was at its strongest and most delectable. Takumi got comfortable at the low table with a pillow underneath him and looked out to the garden.

   It really was the perfect day to bake cookies, no wonder the idea had dawned on Yui. It was a classic winter’s day. It was brisk and cold outside, trees bent and shook with a frigid wind that blew and the courtyard was glazed with a near permanent frost. Takumi wouldn’t be surprised if it started to snow later, it wasn’t on the forecast but looking out into Yui’s backyard, and what he could see of his own, it felt like it would. The clouds were the right colour and the sky was almost indigo.

   “So how’s your day been?” Yui asked.

   “Yeah, good, kinda boring.” Takumi replied.

   “Mm, same, not much you can do on a day like this except stay inside and make your own fun.” Yui mused. “I would much rather be out and about playing soccer or something but it's way too cold!”

   Takumi half laughed to himself. The way Yui had enunciated her complaint with the cold was just oddly funny to him. He heard the clatter of plates in the drawer and that caught his attention. He twisted around at his waist to look over his shoulder. Not only was Yui getting them both little saucer plates to put the cookies on, she was also arranging some empty glasses to go with them.

   Upon noticing that Takumi was staring, Yui asked, “Do you want any milk to go with them?”

   “Yeah, sure.” Takumi shrugged.

   “Cool, and do you want it warmed up?” Yui asked.

   Takumi screwed up his face, “I’m not a little kid.” he grumbled.

   “I wasn’t saying you were? I just think it’d go nice.” Yui pouted. Her cheek puffed out to the side.

   “No thank you then.” Takumi huffed. He hadn’t meant to offend Yui but it seemed like he had.

   “Okay then I’ll only warm enough for me.” Yui said.

   “Good for you.” Takumi said.

   Yui kept fluffing around in the kitchen and the conversation fell silent. Takumi waited at the low table and drummed his fingers on its surface. He kept stealing glances at her however. She just looked so cute in her element. Even when she was all rugged up in her winter casual wear.

   Christmas and New Year were right around the corner. It was the thick of winter and then the calendar year was going to change a week after one of the most romantic days of the year. It was no Valentine’s Day but… It was close enough, right, being a couple’s holiday.

   Takumi kept a sigh to himself. He felt thankful enough to spend any time during winter break with Yui before they moved into the second year of middle school. He’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember and maybe someone with more bravado than he would have confessed by now but Takumi just wanted to wait for the right time. When he was certain of himself and what he would say and how Yui would react. They were the best of friends, he didn’t want to ruin that by making it a thing. 

   Still, his heart skipped a beat as Yui served him up some butter cookies with cold milk. 

   “Here you go.” she said, breaking him out of his reverie.

   “Thanks.” Takumi replied.

   “I hope you enjoy,” Yui said as she then sat down with him, “I baked them with love.” 

   Takumi blushed. Seriously… How could Yui say these things?! She laughed it off but even so, how dense and oblivious she could be. She was too sweet and forthright for her own good at times, her genuine earnest both her biggest virtue and her biggest flaw. It’s exactly what Takumi liked about her.

   “And a pinch of salt. It brings out the sweetness.” Yui said.

   “Yeah, I’ve heard that before somewhere, maybe from your grandmother…” Takumi said.

   “Yeah, maybe. Or me. Quoting my grandmother.” Yui said.

   She laughed awkwardly. It was still a touch raw but it was obvious to Takumi that giving Yui the space to talk about her grandmother and remember her, and more importantly cherish her, helped. He picked up his glass of milk, his fingertips were frozen by how chilled it was.

   “Cheers.” he said.

   “Cheers.” Yui agreed.

   She didn’t leave him hanging for long before clinking her own glass of milk - warmed - against his. They held that pose for a moment and shared a sustained smile. Then, they both tucked in.

   “Aah, they’re so good.” Yui praised herself and it was well deserved.

   Objectively, Yui was a kitchen goddess and to prove it, these cookies were nothing less than sublime. The texture was perfect: buttery, crumbly, yet at the same time melt in your mouth soft. They had just a hint of cocoa taste in the checkerboard pattern of vanilla and chocolate. Speaking of, the design and execution were so good, it really demonstrated how precise and steady her hand was. Best of all, they tasted better than how they looked.

   They paired perfectly with the milk, but of course, milk and cookies was a classic combination.

   “Thanks for sharing.” Takumi said.

   He took a sip of milk and enjoyed the coldness. The sun room was well air conditioned and so was comfortably warm, but looking out to the backyard and seeing the state of mid-winter, it felt right somehow. He glanced at Yui and sure enough, she was guzzling down her warmed milk.

   When she finished, she smacked her lips together and sighed contentedly, “Thank you for sharing your company, it made it even yummier.” Yui said.

   Takumi smiled a small smile. He glanced at Yui and his eyes widened. He laughed.

   “You have something on your face.” he said.

   She blinked, “huh? I do?”

   “Yup, right here.” Takumi said.

   He traced along his upper lip to show Yui exactly where she had something on her face: a white milk moustache.

   “Oh, oops.” she laughed embarrassedly upon realising it.

   She moved her lips around and her lips twitched. She could feel it now and it clearly bothered her.

   “Here, let me.” Takumi said.

   He plucked a serviette from a dispenser in the middle of the table. He leaned across it and Yui stilled herself for him. Meanwhile, his own heart raced as he got close - too close? - to her and dabbed along her upper lip. He was so close, he could steal a kiss if he wasn’t careful. In the meantime, he was gentle as he cleaned her up.

   “Thanks, Takumi-kun.” Yui said. “I can always depend on you.”

   “You're welcome.” Takumi replied as he scrubbed the last of Yui’s milk moustache off her face.

   Now would be a good time, some part of him knew, but not yet. He wasn’t ready, even though his heart swelled as he scrunched up the serviette now that it had been used. He and Yui began to chat some more, ate some more cookies, and Takumi began to wonder if next year might be when he would be neither too soon nor too late to confess his feelings. That, just like right now, he would have good timing.

[aprilbrowines]

Scp erased Chapter 3: the boys are back

Summary: It's been awhile since we seen what giovanni and the boys are doing let's see.

Molly…was confused to say the least. One minute she was taking stock of plushies at her family’s toy shop and the next she was sitting on a couch next to Fred and Ben while a butler was playing guitar hero with flamethrower. Mr. Deeds got the high score as flamethrower signs in defeat.

“Aw man! I was so close.” He said as he wiped sweat from his brow “You did quite well master dante.” Mr. Deeds replies giving Flamethrower some water.

“It’s my turn!” Fred said

“No it’s mine!” Ben argues

Hearing her stomach growls she got off the couch and went to the kitchen as Ben and Fred fight for who gets to play against Mr. Deeds. She sees Giovanni and Crusher enjoying some pizza.

“Uh Boss?”

“Huh Oh hey Bear trap, ya hungry?” Giovanni asks Molly who was hesitant at first but her stomach growled as the smell of hot and ready pizza invaded her nose.

She nods as Giovanni gives her the pizza box, she was confused at first till she felt the weight and warmth of the pizza. Opening it reveals a plain cheese pizza making her eyes widen in surprise.

“Pretty cool huh.” Giovanni smirks

Molly takes a slice of the pizza and eats it, the taste was just amazing as she eats more of it. “Giovanni what is-”

“It’s one of my magical bounties, Bear trap.” He said finishing his slice “You’ve met mr. D already.” He points at the butler who was playing with Fred. Finishing her slice she looks at the butler and then Giovanni.

“Wait Magical?!” She said confused

He nods, taking her little hand to his bedroom. Once they were inside he showed her the treasure chest that was on his bed in all its glory.

“Now they may not look as cool at first glance,” he said, opening the chest, “but when used they can bring me to the top of villainy!” He digs in the chest and pulls out a nerf gun.

“Like this!” He holds it up grinning with joy “This baby can nerf stuff, Watch and be Amazed!” He goes to an open window and aims at an unsuspecting ferrari. Once targeted he shoots as the nerf dart flies towards the automobile and hits it, turning the once bright cherry red luxury ride into a dull brick lemon of a minivan.

“Wow boss, that's pretty impressive.”

“I know right? That’s not all!” He puts the gun away and shows her a dartboard, an old key, and some pictures.

The pictures include Fred driving a luxury car, Flamethrower on a white sandy beach, Spike playing in a rock band as lead guitarist, Crusher with Giovanni having a romantic dinner, and Ben eating a giant cheeseburger.

“Anyway we’re gonna do some crimes with this stuff, wanna join?” he asks her

Molly was worried, not about the crimes but for Giovanni’s safety.

“I don’t know boss…I still have work to do and-”

“Say no more, I can just get mr. deeds to do your job for you.” He said going into the closet to fish out something. “Just ring the bell and he’ll do the job.”

She was conflicted about Giovanni's idea, on one side she can take a well deserved break from the toy shop but on the other side she didn’t want to burden the butler with her problems. He pulls out a child sized banzai blaster outfit heavily modified with bear ears on the helmet. “Bingo” he gave Molly the costume

“You can change in the bathroom. If you need me I'll be in the living room telling the rest of my boys my brilliant plan!”

She looked at the costume amazed by the handy work, “Uhhh ok boss.” She said going to the bathroom to change.

A couple of minutes later Molly writes a small list of errands she needed to do, Giovanni was putting the last stuff in the trunk before calling out to her.

“Beartrap you ready yet?”

“Almost Boss.”

She looks at the list one last time before she rings the silver bell, Mr. Deed appears in front of her. Before he could speak she gave him the list.

“These are things that need to be done, Please and thank you.” she said politely

“Very well Miss Blyndeff.”

She went to Giovanni and the boys as they headed off to do some crime. As Fred was driving his friends to their target Molly looked at the map with slight confusion.

"Uhhh boss?" she asks "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere that betrayed my trust." he growls

[badluck990]

There are Ways to Kill the Immortal

AI-less Whumptober Day 1: Drugging/Sick/Poisoned

I'm tired and will do tags in the morning,

“How many of these do we have left at this point?” Emily asked as she counted out her arrows.

“I think about 30 still, they’ve been more careful since you shut down their original operation in Riverrun.” Irene explained.

“We get it, another town, another base. Let’s just go in already.” Jamie explained, acting like she wasn’t thinking about how she should have gone home to sharpen her knife before this.

They’d been at this for about 10 years now. Irene had clones herself and like any sci-fi movie ever, they had teamed up and began traveling to take them out.

“It still feels weird splitting up is in our best interest,” Mike laughed.

“Well as long as they still got those damn corruption darts it ain’t safe to be around each other.”

“You know, except for me since a corpse can’t exactly revive herself,” Jamie remarked, beginning to walk with Mike.

“Stay safe everyone.” Irene finally called as they all parted ways.

Jamie held her dagger close as she and Mike wandered the east most hall looking for literally anything. Finding their darts would be the best outcome considering the amount of damage those bastards could cause with fucking corruption. 

The two most basic forms of magic were white purification and black corruption magic, both extremely dangerous, both the clones had dabbled in. White magic they had as a powder than a dart like the black was. They used the white as a fail-safe for their mind control work and the black essentially made beasts.

Granted finding the mind control devices and breaking those would be equally useful.

They peaked into a room they had someone from the town tied up in,

“Do you see the dart they’re loading in the gun?”

“Yeah..completely bandless…what do you think they’re trying.”

“New dart, trail 16. Subject,” The clone turned from the captive, “The bot and the halfbreed.”

Realizing they’d been heard, the two split up and ran.

Meanwhile, Emily snuck around to find the clones themselves whether for information on what their plans or to take one or two out would depend on how many were there and if she could get a good enough vantage point. No matter what, anything could be useful. She followed one of the bots to a lab room with darts & parts galore.

“Bingo.” She carefully opened the vents, readied her bow, and aimed for their weakest point. 

The stone arrowhead jammed into the neck and the bot fell to the ground sparking. Emily jumped down glancing over the darts, black band for corruption, purple for magic affecting moondust, gray for knockout serum, and…

“What the hell are blank darts for?”

“Well we can't have you finding that out can we?” Irene A Clone laughed from behind and shot Emily with a gray banded dart before she could even turn around.

In other parts of the base debated on playing it safe and hidden or trying to blend in with her mistake for information. But if her fear was recognized, she’d be interrogated for sure, granted she still had her necklace but that was only for an absolute– no other way out –emergency. She decided to wander around, trying to look like belonged there, just had to hope to find something before her enemy did. Granted it had been Mike & her’s base before all this so she did technically know where certain things were, but many things had been moved around. Plus they were doing very different things. She passed a lab room to see Emily getting knocked out.

Frick.

Not thinking she grabbed her gun hand gun & took out the clone really hoping no one was close enough to hear. Irene scooped her friend up and noticed the blank dart herself and wondered what in the multiverse they were up to this time. But never mind that, for that she did need to get Emily Safe.

Back at the entrance the four came back together. Only Irene was still carrying Emily and Jamie was on the floor, one the new darts in her arm.

“You got any ideas on what the hell these new darts are?” Irene snapped as she knelt down to take a look wondering why no one was around, unless it was a corruption dart it wasn't like them to just leave the victim on the ground.

“Poison, I saw them talking about it, but I don’t know what type, they noticed me..” Mike was pale as could be, why didn’t they run the same direction?!

“I-it’s fine, let’s just get out of here, stab Jamie in the forest and recon in a starpeak hotel.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Jamie…Jamie can’t revive from poison. We. We talked about it a while ago. We need to get back to Riverrun. Now.”

Emily woke up as they got back and was able to get an explanation while Jamie was put in bed. Mike began poison testing and she awoke just after he finished. Her head hurt, everything ached, & she felt hot. But how? She was half fire demon, she didn’t get ‘hot’.”

“Hey Jamie~”

“Fucking hell. Why does everything hurt?”

“You got darted at the base, you’ll be okay. It’s a minor poison, it should pass even without an antidote,” He lied.

She laughed slightly, “So it's basically like your damn mortal flu? If that's all, then I should pry just go home to the demon realm, so I can take care of myself better there.”

“No! I mean, we don’t know if the poison will react to the realm change, considering it's not a thing that’s ever been studied. And with you not being able to-”

“Yeah okay I get it. But still don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“Alright, alright.”

“So what are we actually working with?”

“It’s called Kyotin. The symptoms are nothing serious, as Jamie already noticed it’s meant to mimic a normal flu, but if we don’t get her help, it’s gonna kill her.”

“How long do we have?”

“About a week likely.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Only thing we can do. Find an Antidote.”

[hazbincalifornia]

Home Sweet Wrath

Chapter 59: Blitzo and the crew head down to Wrath and meet Millie's parents.

Ao3 link

“Okay, so, one rule.” Blitzo raised a finger, turning down a dusty road and grimacing as the steering wheel pressed harder against his bump. “Nobody knows Stolas is the baby daddy, got it?”

“Aw, what?” Millie’s lower lip pouted out as she tilted her head. “Why not?”

“I do not want every single cow-tipping rando in Wrath poking at me for having a bird kid. I feel kind of like puking as-is now and then, and I don’t think your family would like me a whole lot if I waltzed in full of royal fetus, so this kid is from a one-night-stand that I decided to keep because I wanted the extra help and I like kids.” He glanced over to the back to see that Loona had already thoroughly checked out from the conversation, headphones on with faint music pulsing through them. That was fine, he’d already briefed her on this back at the apartment and he kind of doubted anybody was going to bother her anyway.

“Makes sense, I suppose,” Moxxie mumbled, and Millie considered for a moment.

“Alright, alright.” She perked up. “Oh! Can we make up this mysterious stranger?”

“Best to keep it simple. The more lies you build on top of each other, the more chance shit gets contradictory.” He clicked his tongue. Hmm. A few details weren’t a bad idea, it would be weirder to not know anything. “I didn’t get his name, but it started with an M, and he was the best damn dancer at a mid-tier club I’d ever seen.”

“Red eyes?”

“Yeah, sure, and leather pants that cupped the ass just so,” Blitzo said. “C’mon, you see a man in tight leather pants that highlight the bulge and he’s into you, it’s dumb not to go for it.”

Millie nodded, and Blitzo could see Moxxie’s head bounce along for a moment before turning out the window, and a grin spread across Blitzo’s face.

“Hmm… might as well have a leather top to go with it… nah, mesh shirt and then leather spiked jacket. He was playing at the bar with a knife before I slid up next to him, said he was visiting from Wrath but just wanted to duck a couple of murder charges until the case cooled, and I offered to show him the real pretty shit.” He paused. “And by real pretty shit, I mean my p-”

“Sir,” Moxxie said, but Blitzo could practically hear the flush in his sound. Bingo. He knew Moxxie liked that kind of bad boy/girl shit.

“What, you wish you were there with me and my imaginary fuckbuddy so we could spit-roast you, Moxx?”

“I wish we were there already, at least I know what to expect from Lin and Joe,” Moxxie said as Millie turned around.

“Aw, you can imagine plenty honey! You’d be cute with a dashing fellow like that, I’d bet.”

“You’re the only one for me, honey.”

Millie laughed. “I know, I know, but it ain’t real so we can think about it.” Her tone dropped a little into a purr. “A little knife runnin’ along the skin of your chest, sayin’ he’d make you his-”

“Millie.” Moxxie buried his face in his hands, tail thrashing side to side and both Millie and Blitzo started laughing, fist-bumping over the center console as they turned on the road to the Rough N’ Tumbleweed. Loona glanced over at him and snickered into her hand as well.

Millie threw open the door and flounced over to her parents as Moxxie circled around to grab the luggage and Blitzo sucked in a deep breath, taking a moment just to soak in the rustic atmosphere. He could smell the sweat and leather in the air, and it drew a smile to his face as he eased himself out of the van, setting one hand atop the stretched fabric of his button-down as soon as he was safely on the well-trodden dirt.

“And this is my boss, Blitz!” Millie waved a hand back towards him with an excited grin, and he waved with his free hand as their eyes darted up and down his body.

“Well!” Joe said, holding out a hand. “Can’t say that I don’t admire a man still willing to travel between rings in your condition. You still go on kills like that?”

Blitzo cracked his back after giving him a firm shake. “I was, until somebody,” He turned a pointed gaze to Moxxie, “Decided a little stabbing meant I should get knocked out of commission.”

“I was looking out for your safety, sir!”

“Yeah, well, I’m still gonna have the kid on one of those baby slings as soon as they’re out and I’ll be back in the game, so there. I only listened the first time because of the blood loss.”

Lin chuckled. “I like your spirit! Blitz, was it?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

He stuck out a hand to her as well, and she shook it with a rough grip he could tell could probably flip him if he twitched too funny. “Millie said you had an extra room for my Loonie?” He nodded back at Loona, whose ear twitched as Lin nodded.

“We’ve got a new hired hand who’s been staying here, but he said he had to head out of town for tonight, so his bed’s free. He barely decorated the place, and it’s time to wash the sheets anyway. Y’all are just staying for the festival, right?”

“Pretty much,” Loona said, phone bouncing in her hand. “If the bed’s too small, I’m still sleeping in the van. Do you have anything else to do around here besides stare at tumbleweeds?”

“There’s some hustle ‘n bustle in town if you want to check that out or need to stock up on anything after the trip down, but most everybody’s just making last-minute preperations for the Festival that has to,” Lin said. “Setting up food carts, making sure everything’s in place, all that sort of thing. A few people camp out every year- damn fools, you can see it just as well as long as you’re in the crowd and it’d just get a pain in your spine waiting.”

”There’s a shop with the best sodas in Hell down on Fifth too,” Millie added. “If we’ve got time I wouldn’t mind popping down there and seeing if the creamy’s as good as I remember.”

The baby squirmed, and Blitz rested one hand above the movement as he glanced around. “So, you wrangle pigs?”

“Mhm!” Lin said. “We’ve got some fruits growing out back too, but mostly we deal in meat. Mildred was great at it ‘fore she decided to move out to the city.”

Millie sighed in a way that Blitzo could tell was the result of a thousand previous conversations. “We’re doin’ just fine, Mama.”

“Considering he’s bringing in a baby that size, I’d sure hope so!” Joe chipped in with a little laugh, ruffling her hair before glancing back at Blitzo. “Is it twins, or is that kid just going to pop out the size of a pig?”

Blitzo’s tail snapped. “The second one. Daddy looked like a big Wrath boy, so he musta been pumping winners.”

“Hope they come out big and strong to make it worth it then!” Joe said, smacking his back and nearly making him tumble forwards. “C’mon, I’ll show you around the house. You sharing with your hound?”

Blitzo shook his head. “Nah, I’ve got a friend down here I was meaning to catch up with, we’ll meet back up tomorrow.”

“Ah, shame, we’ve got a great dinner coming.” Joe clicked his tongue. “I remember what it was like with Mildred and her sister- damn near killed my back, but they were worth it. I’m sure you’ll see Sallie May around at some point, she’s out doin’ her chores. You meeting the friend right now?”

“I could look around first, I wanna see Millie’s old digs,” Blitzo said with a grin. “So, you had her?”

“Mhm! Lin and I traded once we got to the younger ones.”

“As I recall, you said you weren’t doing it again after Sallie came out big even though you said you’d do three, not two,” Lin said with a playful nudge. “I had to pick up the slack.”

“Oh, you did just fine with it,” Joe said, smacking at her hip with his tail. “You’re sturdy!”

Moxxie cleared his throat as he dropped the suitcases from behind Millie, cheeks still dotted with a hint of a flush as he gave a nervous smile. Blitzo had to resist the urge to pinch at his cheek. “It’s… it’s nice to see both of you again.”

“This is Moxxie, my husband- y’all remember him, right?” Millie tugged Moxxie against her hip as he gave a little ‘oof’.

“Mhm…” Lin looked him up and down. “You still need more meat on your bones.”

“Dinner’ll be good for that, right?” Blitzo nudged him from the other side. “He’s not a half-bad cook.”

“Oh?” Lin raised an eyebrow. “Would you mind helping if you can manage a bit of chopping, city boy?”

Moxxie brightened at that. “Certainly, ma’am! I’ll just bring our things in first.”

Lin nodded over to the house. “We can meet in the kitchen at three.”

“C’mon, we can give you the tour before you need to head out!” Joe started towards the door and Blitzo followed along, waddling more than walking as the dust kicked up beneath his boots. The dry heat was already beating down, and he was glad that he’d ditched his coat. Fuck, he was glad that the smog helped a little with the heat in Pride.

The house turned out to be about what he would expect from a Wrath place- Loona had immediately made a beeline for the room that was to be hers for the night, but it left him a few minutes to take in the rustic decor. There were lots of pictures of the family, either together or individually, and mostly pulling stunts like wrangling multiple pigs at once or shimmying up giant trees or steep cliffs. There was also some very impressive handmade art, mostly made from horns and pig or horse hides. His fingers trailed over a lamp that looked like it might have been made from imp skin if he squinted at it wrong as Joe talked about how the ranch had been in the family for ages.

“Nice name for the place, by the way. I can appreciate a good name. Half of selling stuff, right?”

“Mm? Oh, it was my grandma’s Peppa’s idea!” Joe said. “What was your place’s name again?”

“We’re the Immediate Murder Professionals- any sinners that have unfinished business, they can go through us. We used to kill down here, but there’s so much competition, you know?” He grinned at Joe. “Millie’s a real gem, by the way. She’s a great brawler and can take down humans three times her size like they’re blowup dolls, you musta really raised her right.”

“She certainly can hold her own!” Joe said with a laugh. “We raised her to never run from a fight, and I can’t imagine humans have much of a challenge. How did you wrangle getting up topside, by the way?”

Blitzo waved a hand. “Eh. Lots of them have guns, those are usually the harder ones, but that just makes it a fun challenge. As for how we get up there, that’s a trade secret.” He felt his phone buzz and pulled it out to see a message from Stolas that just listed an address to meet up at. “Looks like my friend’s ready. I’ll meet back here sometime tomorrow morning. Don’t wring my employees out too much, they’ve still got work on Friday.”

“I make no promises- Sallie’s been excited to see her sister back and has been dying to show off some new holds to see if they work on her once they get to the pit out back,” Joe said, cuffing his shoulder. “Wasn’t half-bad to meet you, Bitz.”

“Blitz, but you too, big boy.” Blitzo socked him back and got a grin at the amount of force he’d thrown into it.

“Good luck with the young’in as well.”

“Thanks.” Blitzo patted his belly, feeling a contented little shift from the inside at the attention. “I’m sure she’ll be a good, sturdy bitch juuuust like her daddy.”

[jbreenr]

𝕯𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝕮𝖚𝖕𝖎𝖉

Pairing: Bucky Barnes × Reader

Summary: Maybe, for once, alcohol had all the answers you needed.

Trope: Drunk confessions.

Word count: 3.2k

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), brief choking, alcohol consumption, an itty-bitty bit of angst, porn with feelings (?), slight dirty talk. And I think that's it.

A/N: Sooo, as you may have figured by now, I can only write if it's for a challenge, and today is not different. This is for @tom-whore-dleston 's 500 followers / AU and trope bingo challenge. Congratulations on your milestone, honey! 🎉 I hope you like this at least a little bit. As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*. Let me know your guys' thoughts (I love that shit).

ᴺᵒᵗ ᵐʸ ᵍⁱᶠ ¯ ᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗᵒʳ

Fast healing was great, colds disappeared in a matter of seconds, headaches were gone before they even started and you had never experienced a hangover. That part was great. But unfortunately, it was very difficult for you to get drunk. It took an exaggerated amount of alcohol for you to feel even tipsy.

Which was the reason two empty bottles of tequila were already empty and forgotten next to the one that was on its way to become a third one.

“It's so good to finally have a girls night.” Said Wanda as she took a chip from the plate and threw it in your direction to get your attention from your match with Natasha.

Who agreed, hugging you from behind, careful not to pinch you with the two darts she was still holding. “We only need some single men to make tonight better.” Still hugging you, she reached out for her beer to bump it into Wanda's.

“I don't think Vis would like that, or Steve.” Wanda pointed at the redhead accusatory.

“Not for us.” Her hands were quick to go up and down your sides, as if you were a product she was trying to sell. “For this pretty lady here.”

They had insisted fervently on you joining them in their night out, and after declining the offer several times, you accepted under one condition.

“'No men.'” You reminded them. “That was the deal.”

Natasha went to sit on the other side of the table, in front of you. “It was because, otherwise, you would have stayed at the tower alone and depressed over an idiot who's not worth it.”

“Yeah!” It was Wanda's turn to give her opinion. “Fuck him! You're young, you're sexy. You can have whoever you want just like this.” She snapped her fingers. “And you can have them now, if you want to.” She nodded her head, telling you to turn discreetly to see something behind you.

Playing the fixing my hair move, you looked behind, immediately locking eyes with a handsome man. His curly hair covered his forehead and made it difficult to know the color of his eyes, his lips curved into a smirk as he crossed his thick arms over his chest. When he winked and licked his lips, you understood why Wanda chose him among the many people at the bar. He was effortlessly hot.

“I don't know, guys.” You turned your attention back to your friends, taking a dart from Nat's hand and walking in front of the dartboard pinned to the wall. “I don't think that a one night stand is what I need right now.”

You threw the dart, almost hitting the bullseye. Nat joined right after, hitting the center of the board with the minimum effort, right beside the dart she had thrown minutes prior.

“And what exactly do you need?” Wanda asked. “A rom-com marathon, eating ice cream while crying and feeling bad for yourself? Believe me, getting laid will help you get over whoever you haven't gotten over yet.”

And to that logic, you started to consider it. Maybe if you landed eyes on someone else you could start forgetting about…

“Or you could go to this mystery man's place and talk straight to him.” Nat laughed at her suggestion, thinking of it as the most ridiculous thing she'd ever said as she took the darts off the board. “I mean, you never know, right?” But when Natasha turned, darts in hand and ready to give you your corresponding batch for the next round, neither you nor the bottle were there any longer. “ Where's Y/N?”

And Wanda didn't have an answer to that.

“I knew I'd find you here.” You said as the door closed behind the overly confused man.

“Maybe because this is my room.” His sarcasm didn't come out with annoyance, curiosity all over the sentence.

You looked around as if you had just realized where you were, sitting on the edge of his bed, legs crossed with a half empty bottle of tequila in between them.

“Yeah, you're right.” You pointed at him, a knowing smile making its way in your lips. “But I thought you wouldn't come to your room alone, if you know what I mean.”

Bucky couldn't help but notice you were dragging the words. The particular spark in your heavy eyes, telling him about your current state.

“I see you've been drinking.” He stood in front of you. His posture, broad shoulders, crossed arms and look of disapproval, making him look bigger, imposing, dangerous even, which you knew he was, but not to you, he would never hurt you… not physically, at least.

“Yes, and I feel amazzzing!” A big gulp to the bottle followed your statement. “I don't know why I don't do this more often.”

“Drinking?”

“Mhm,” The sound left your throat as you took another sip. “It's like I can do anything. Like all that embrerreastent went on vacation and I can finally tell you the truth I've been hiding for th--.”

As you spoke, Bucky sat beside you in the bed, whole body turned in your direction, full attention on you. “What truth?” He imagined a hundred possible answers. You, hiding the pillow of the couch he'd always sit on because you spilled some coffee on it and now it's stained; You, being the one who leaves the empty bottles of milk on the fridge because you're too lazy to take another one out; You, leaving the country because a millionaire proposed to you and you're ready to live your best life with him…

Seconds of silence passed by and the atmosphere in the room changed with them. While you found the perfect words, Bucky watched you expectant, preparing himself for the worst.

“The truth of my feelings.” You would have seen Bucky's exalted expression, having not been looking at your fingers. The theory of the millionaire crossing his mind again. “My feelings for you.”

To say that Bucky was lost was an understatement. “Your feelings for me?”

You drank again. A drop of tequila descended from the corner of your mouth and Bucky was surprised your face did not contract at the taste of the liquor.

“I'm so freaking in love with you.” Laughing and brushing your hair out of your face, you directed the bottle back to your lips only to find it empty.

A single tear rolled down your face, but you were not sure if it was caused by your laughter or out of fear he'd hate you for the rest of his life. “How stupid is that? Falling in love with the only man who'll never look at me twice.”

After a quiet minute, Bucky asked, “What makes you say that?”

“It's too obvious! You could have any girl you want, anytime you want her,” You snapped your fingers, copying Wanda. “And if you wanted me, you would have made a move ages ago.”

He remained silent for what seemed like an eternity, and as your eyes started to focus on his expression and you felt the effects of the alcohol dissipating, you knew you were already sobering up which, in this case, was worse than an actual hangover.

“Where is this coming from?”

Realization hit you stronger than one of Natasha's kicks in the training room. Now, in your five senses and aware of what you just did, you let go of the bottle, letting it fall to the carpet.

Standing up, you tried to excuse yourself, ready to go hide in your room to start deciding on a convincing excuse to never see him again.

As fast as you left the bed, Bucky's arm reached out for you, gripping on your wrist, stopping you from running away.

Knowing that it'd be impossible for you to escape, you sat down again, avoiding meeting his eyes. “You didn't answer my question.” His fingers were still on your wrist, metal slowly warming against your hot skin.

You exhaled in resignation. There was no going back now. “Remember a couple months ago when Nat set me on a blind date with that agent and I didn't sleep here?”

There was a change in the way his eyes looked at you, but you couldn't quite point out what it was. “Yeah, I remember.”

“We didn't get along that well and I… I made it to the tower that night and, you know, we have pretty thin walls.”

Understanding what you were implying, Bucky wanted nothing more than to slap himself in the face and drag Sam with him for giving him the idea.

He overheard the girls talking about how handsome the guy they set you up with was and how they knew for sure you'd stay the night at his place and he lost it. He let Sam convince him that the quickest way to forget you was with someone else, and God if he listened to him.

“And then, there were more girls, more often,” You continued. “And I just couldn't take it anymore. I was ready to sleep with some stranger to get you out of my mind for, at least, a night but I ended up here instead because I couldn't bring myself to do it and…” Your babbling was cut off, leaving your half structured idea dusting away along with any other thing you could possibly think of by Bucky's lips moving sweetly on yours.

You tasted like tequila and strawberry, a strange combination, but one Bucky seemed to enjoy as his lips danced delicately, unhurriedly waiting for you to follow.

And when you did. God! He could get used to that. If kissing you was already heaven, having you kissing him back, well, it was even better than Bucky imagined it could be.

His flesh hand cradled your face, wiping away the trace of tears adorning your cheek as his left hand caressed your arm up and down. The moment felt endless, minutes stretching into hours and hours turning into years, but you knew it was just a matter of seconds.

When you finally put an end to the kiss, eyes closed and forehead pressed against Bucky's, you didn't know what to expect next. Would he regret kissing you? Would he pretend it didn't happen?

You didn't have time to keep digging in your imagination for Bucky was the one to break the silence. “I didn't need to look at you twice.” And even though you were sober again, you didn't quite understand what that meant. You separated from him, wanting to look him in the eye, but your attention kept being dragged to his lips. “I've been crazy about you for the longest time. I just never thought you'd be interest--.”

It was your time to interrupt him, lips crashing into his in a hungry kiss he was quick to follow. It was desperate, passionate and full of emotions. It was like you wanted to transmite every ounce of love you felt for him in that single kiss, even though you knew it was immeasurable.

With a fast movement, you were straddling him, fingers playing with his hair and hips grinding against his hardening member. His hands explored your every centimeter, almost as to make sure you were actually there.

Your hands descended, looking for the hem of Bucky's shirt, which you pulled out of the way to run your palms along his exposed back.

How did you end up here? When you sneaked in his room in the first place, you were mentally prepared to make a fool of yourself, believing you wouldn't remember a thing the next morning. You never imagined your visit would have this outcome.

When your nails started making a red trace and Bucky's hips jolted was when his eyes snapped open. “Wait. We can't.” He said in between kisses, separating from you against his deepest wishes. “You're drunk. I--.”

“Not anymore.” Your breathing was heavy, cheeks flushed and lips red.

He seemed reluctant, trying to decipher if what you were saying was true or just a trick motivated by the alcohol. “You, super soldiers, are not the only ones with this ability.”

He thought about your powers and the perks that must come with them and it made sense to him, not only because it was what he desired most in the world at that moment but because you seemed well aware of your surroundings and current situation to be as drunk as you were minutes ago.

“Are you sure?”

Lowering the straps of your dress, you let it pool around your waist, revealing your already hard nipples.

Your actions had the desired reaction, Bucky's eyes didn't tear from your breasts, not until you took his jaw and made him look at you again. “There's nothing I want more.”

And that was enough for him to roll on the bed, pinning your body under his and resume the breathtaking kiss that had your head spinning faster than any liquor could.

Your hands desperately tried to yank his jeans down, but you found it'd be more difficult than you thought. Knowing your struggle, Bucky decided to take matters in his own hands and get rid of his unwanted clothing as well as your dress, tossing them to the other side of the room.

He took a second to drink in the sight of you, half naked in his bed, eyes begging for him to join you and do things you only got to experience in your dreams.

Parting your legs, he made his way up your calf with his lips brushing your flesh. When he reached your panties, all he did was to leave a tender kiss on your mud over the thin fabric, making you gasp. Before continuing to your belly and between your breasts, he discarded the insulting cover away, leaving you all at his mercy.

But he did nothing more than to travel up your body until he was facing you again.

As Bucky kept his full weight from crushing you with one hand, he brushed a lock of hair off your face with the other. “God, you're beautiful.”

He didn't give you time to answer or reciprocate the compliment. His fingers were already playing with your clit, leaving you with your lips parted and soft sounds of satisfaction falling from them.

You wanted him to take you and use you in every way he pleased, so your hand flew to his wrist, and even though he was obviously stronger than you, he didn't put any sort of resistance when you directed his fingers to your mouth so you could taste yourself. When you brushed his fingertips with your tongue, he lost it.

Bucky's fingers left your lips with a soft pop.

He aligned with your inviting pussy and started rubbing his length already leaking with precum along your lips, coating it with your arousal before finally plugging into you with a slow thrust.

Your head flew back, exposing your neck to Bucky, like asking him to cover it with his palm, and Bucky couldn't help but to do so.

The feeling of his flesh hand taking possession of your throat as his hips started moving had your breath hitching. It was too much and too little at the same time.

You relished in the fact that it was not just another dream, that you were actually stretching around him and he was enjoying it just as much as you did, but still, you needed more. You needed him to move faster, to break you into a million pieces only to glue you back together.

“C'mon, Buck,” Your voice brought him back from his own thoughts. “Show me how crazy you are about me.”

And that was it. His grip on your throat tightened the slightest as his movements gained force. He accelerated the pace quickly, making you a whimpering mess in seconds, profanities falling from your lips easily.

Your hands closed around his wrist as your legs hugged his hips, urging him to keep moving, to keep pounding into you as if it was the last thing he'd ever do.

And if that was the case, Bucky would gladly comply. If he were to die he would be happy to know that it was between your legs, bringing you to ecstasy and loving you the way he only knew.

His train of thought was interrupted when he felt you clenching down on him, making him grunt.

“Fuck.” He said as he directed his gaze to where your bodies connected, watching his cock disappearing inside of you. “You're taking me so well.” Sweetly caressing your thigh, he lifted it up, giving him better access that granted him go even deeper. “So fucking well.” His ragged words and the new angle only added to your arousal, making your moans be louder and louder until Bucky muffled them with his lips, and that's when you heard it. The squelch sound that your bodies created with each thrust.

Your back arched, sensitive nipples brushing against Bucky's chest. He let go of your throat as soon as your hands left his wrist, meaning to explore as much of his body as you could reach. His hand descended to play with one of your hardened buttons, pinching and twisting it to give it the attention it craved before continuing its way to your bundle of nerves, which he roughly pressed as he drew fast circles, getting you closer to your imminent release.

“Damn, Buck, I…” The way you whined Bucky's name was almost sinful, the difficulty you faced when trying to say something coherent and understandable showed the moment your words were interrupted by Bucky's restless stimulation to your clit. “I'm close!”

But you didn't need to tell him. Just by feeling how your walls squeezed his cock was enough for him to know that you were on the edge of your orgasm.

“Hold it for me, doll.” With little effort, Bucky sat on his knees, dragging you with him until your back was barely touching the bed under you. “I know you can do that, baby. Just a little more.” He inhumanely accelerated his pounding, drilling into you with ferocity.

Your protest got caught in your throat and was replaced by the pleasure bubbling in your stomach. You didn't know how much more you could hold it.

But you had no time to even do the math. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, walls clamping down, trying to milk Bucky's cock dry. Your explosion of bliss only intensified when you felt him release right after, filling you up with his spent as he worked you through it with slow yet deep thrusts that had you panting in renewed need.

You let out a meowl when he pulled out to fall to your side. Both of you, struggling to breathe normally for a couple of minutes.

“That was…” He paused, taking his time to find the right words to describe it. “Better than I ever imagined.” You let him hug you closer to leave a sweet kiss on your temple.

And to the sincerity of his statement, you couldn't help but ask, “You got it bad, uh?”

He looked down at you, a raised brow and the corner of his lips twitching upwards at your playful grin.

“Oh, shut up.”

[cjsinkythoughts]

In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day. 

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.” 

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

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

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. 

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam���s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

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

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

~

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

~

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

Self Righteous and Wrathful

That Which Binds You V

Pairing: Stark!Peter x Blackcat!Reader

A/N:  Hey guys! Just wanted to remind you that my ask box is still open if you wanna talk to me about the series or anything else xx

Warnings: canon typical violence, injuries

Summary: An unwelcome guest stops by while you're working a job for Fisk

Taglist

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

The docks were already bustling by the time you arrived on Wednesday night. Large men were loading cargo in and out of various trucks, but none of that interested you. The shipment plans you were after were set to arrive with a stout, mousy man named Harvey. He was a member of Hammerhead’s inner circle, you two had run into each other a number of times over the summer.

You kept your eyes glued to Harvey when he finally arrived. He had brought a number of papers with him along with a large map. The map was bound with a leather strap that hung off his shoulder.

“Bingo,” your lips curled upward as he shuffled into the warehouse.

“So you're back to targeting Hammerhead?” Spiderman landed beside you with a thud.

“Spider,” you gritted your teeth, the last thing you needed was him getting in your way. Fisk was still on you about your last encounter, you couldn’t afford another mess up, “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he answered, “You’re pretty hard to track down.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea,” you scoffed, “I don’t have time to play around with you tonight, my boss is riding my ass about this one.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I’m here to help huh?”

You burst into laughter, “You’re here to help me?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I want you to trust me so I’m here to help. Plus I don’t really mind messing with the maggia,” he sounded playful, you imagined he must be smiling under the mask, “So what are we after tonight? Looks like we’re intercepting some kind of cargo.”

“We aren’t doing anything. I don’t need backup.”

“Well I’m not going anywhere,” he challenged, “It’ll be easier if you just tell me what we’re after.”

“It’d be easier if you fell into the river,” you deadpanned.

“Oh come on, I thought we were friends. You gave me that drive and now I’m returning the favor.”

You purse your lips and examine the scene at the docks. He could provide a good distraction, and if he was a goody two shoes, so he probably wouldn’t double cross you.

“Fine,” you settled, “You can help me get in, but that’s it.”

“Deal. What do you need me to do?”

“Cause some kind of distraction so I can get inside. I assume you can come up with something?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I can handle it.”

“Great,” you smirked, “Then get to work, Spider.”

He zipped away, leaving you alone once more. The air felt extra bitter by the docks, it nipped at your cheeks and exposed nose. Your tongue darted over your chapped lips while you waited for something to happen. Maybe trusting Spiderman was stupid, but he’d seemed pretty set on helping you somehow.

“Come on Spider, I don’t have all night,” you drummed your fingers along the edge of the roof impatiently.

Moments later he came zipping into view, landing on top of a truck that some of the men were unloading, “Hiya boys,” he waved down at them, “Need a hand?”

You scoffed as he engaged with the men, “Well that’s one way to do it.”

His methods weren’t anything like yours, but he’s managed to get everyone's attention on him very quickly. While everyone was distracted by Spiderman you were able to swing into one of the windows and cut through the glass without even being spotted. Everyone had flooded outside to deal with Spiderman, leaving Harvey alone with two male guards. He was barking into his phone as he scrambled to pack his papers into a small leather satchel, you assumed he was explaining the situation to Hammerhead.

“Where do you think you're going with my paperwork?” you landed on the table in front of him, stepping on one of his wrists.

“Blackcat,” he seethed.

“Harvey,” you smirked down at him, “Is that your boss on the phone? Tell him I said hi.”

“Grab her!” he ordered the other two.

They charged at you, you kicked Harvey in the chest before hopping off the table.

“Oh come on boys, do we have to do this every time?” you sighed, “It always ends bad for you and I’m sure Hammerhead doesn't cover medical.”

The larger of the two swung at you, you ducked under his arm and kneed him in the stomach. You kicked the second man in the chest, he stumbled backward and fell through the table. Papers flew through the air and Harvey struggled to catch them.

“Shit,” you swore.

You kicked the larger man in the jaw and knocked him into a wall before running for Harvey. He was on his knees, scrambling to pick up the papers on the ground.

“I want the shipment plans Harvey,” you grunted, kicking him onto the ground. You dug your foot into his back, pinning him against the concrete, “Now!”

He stared up at you with wide eyes, “I-I-I-”

“Don’t make me call my Spider in here,” you threatened.

He gulped and nodded, “T-There,” he pointed to the corner of the room, the map was leaning against the wall, still bound by the leather strap, “E-Everything’s on there.”

“Great,” you slung the strap over your shoulder and bent down, “I’m taking this too,” you picked up the satchel he’d been shoving the loose papers into, “You know I like you Harvey, you never put up much of a fight. I guess that’s a good thing though, if I had to deal with your boss I might actually break a sweat,” you kicked him in the side for good measure and zipped back out the window before the other two could grab you again.

Outside you spotted Spiderman, still trying to deal with Hammerhead’s men.

“Blackcat!” he called over to you.

“Hi Spider,” you waved, “Thanks for the help!”

“Blackcat!”

You swung away from the scene, leaving him to handle the men alone. If you weren’t so sure he could handle it on his own you wouldn’t have left, but you knew they weren’t much of a threat to him. You wanted him to stay hung up on them for a while so he wouldn’t have the chance to follow you.

“Hey!” you grimaced hearing his voice behind you, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home!” you call back, glancing over your shoulder at him, “Don’t you have some bad guys to take care of?”

“That’s what I’m doing right now!”

“Ah, I thought we were friends,” you faked a pout and rounded a corner in an attempt to lose him.

Spiderman shot a web your way, it landed on the rolled up map on your back and he used it to yank you backwards. He caught you at the waist and tossed you over his shoulder.

“Let go of me!” you demanded.

“Fine!” he dropped you, ripping the map off your back before he landed on the nearest roof.

“What the hell is your problem?!” you snapped, swinging up onto the roof after him.

“What? Cats always land on their feet don’t they?” he teased.

You clenched her fists at your side, “Give me the map.”

“So it’s a map?” he held the rolled up paper in front of him, pretending to examine it, “What for?”

“Hand it over!” you demanded again, “You said you came to help me!”

“I did help you, and now I want to talk, then I’ll give the map back,” he promised.

You glared back at him, “Talk about what?”

“I want to know what the map is for.”

“My lifelong search for the holy grail,” you quipped.

“Sarcasm isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

“They’re shipment plans,” you crossed her arms, reluctantly giving in to his demands, “Drug trafficking if I had to guess. Are you happy now?”

“I wanna know who you’re working for too.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Then I can’t give you the map.”

“I need that map,” you stepped towards him, “Don’t make me hurt you Spider.”

“Just tell me who you’re working for, I’ll give you the map and we can go our separate ways.”

You lunged at him without another word, attempting to rip the map away from him. He stepped back, holding the map just out of your reach.

“Come on,” he tried again, “I’m just asking for a name.”

You dove at him again, kneeing him in the stomach so you could grab a hold of the map. He kicked you in the ribs but you’d managed to sink your claws into the map so he couldn’t tear it away again. You swiped at his face, he ducked and swept your feet from under you. You fell to your backside and the small tears from your claws ended up causing the map to rip in half while you fell. All you could do was gape at the half of the map left in your hands.

“You idiot!” you snapped at him, “Look what you did!”

“Me?” he gaped, “You’re the one with the claws!”

“Yes you! You’re the one who tried to steal my map!”

“Well I don’t think you’re in a position to scold me about stealing,” he retorted.

You growled and charged at him. He ran from you and dove off the roof, half of the map secured under his left arm.

“Get back here!” you screamed as you chased after him.

Catching him was hopeless, you knew that, but Spiderman was impossibly agile in the air, and he knew the city much better than you did. You also knew you couldn’t possibly go back to Fisk with another failure, so you had to try. You chased him over buildings and through tight allies, struggling to keep him in your line of sight.

Finally he landed on the front side of an office building and began running up the side. You landed just behind him and chased him up the side, but he was still much faster than you. In an effort to gain the upperhand you shot a grappling hook at the top of the building. You used the momentum to propel past him, laughing as you ripped the map out of his hands.

“Bye bye Spider!” you called, winking as you zipped past him.

He stopped below you and shot a web at your leg. It caught you, and you were suspended between his web and your grappling hook.

“Hey! I’m really sorry about this!” he called up to her before he yanked you down.

The grappling hook was ripped from the roof and you started free falling. Spiderman took back half of the map as you fell past him. You struggled to regain control of yourself, finally you were able to launch one of your grappling hooks back onto the building. You slammed into it and went sprinting up the side, but he was already gone when you reached the roof.

“Spiderman!” you seethed as you took off in search of him.

You zipped up and down the nearby streets in search of him. Then you headed towards the Avengers tower to see if you could catch him there, but he was nowhere to be found. He’d disappeared with half the map, you assumed he was going to hold it as some kind of ransom. Unfortunately you weren’t sure you’d live long enough to start negotiating.

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

Fisk’s lips drew upwards when you stepped into his office, his eyes instantly darted to the paper under your arms.

“Ah, I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me again,” he praised, “Bring it over here kitten.”

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, the anxiety was eating you alive, “I ran into Spiderman again.”

He frowned, “And you took care of him?”

“Mostly,” you set her half of the map onto the table in front of him, “He tried to take the shipment plans, they were damaged in the fight.”

He quickly unraveled the map and scanned over it with a deep scowl. His expression contorted to rage and his fist came slamming through his desk, “Didn’t I tell you not to fuck this up?!”

You backed away from him quickly, “I-I’m sorry, I’ll get the other part back in a few days. I got all this too,” you offered him the satchel fearfully.

“That’s not what I asked for!” he shouted back, throwing the satchel across the room and towering over you, “You stupid, insolet, little bitch! Can’t you do anything right?!”

“I-I’m sorry I-” your apology was cut short when he took a hold of your throat.

He lifted you into the air and threw you against the wall. The air was forced out of your lungs as your head slammed into the drywall.

“You’re going to get me the rest of those plans or I will take everything from you,” he threatened, “Whatever pathetic little life you think you’ve got here can be gone in a second, you can be gone in a second,” you choked as his hand squeezed your throat even tighter, “One more mistake and I’ll send you to a hole even worse than the one you crawled out of,” he threw you to the ground and walked back to his broken desk while you gasped for air, “Now get out.”

next chapter

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Taglist:

@spideyssunshine @spideyspeaches @namoreno @niallsvirgosun @thevery-firstpage @roseke @tomsirishgirlx @emistrash @peachyafshawn @andreagf956 @agbspidey @zspideyy @sleepybesson @misshale21 @nj01 @raajali3 @prancerrparkerr @ellabellabus07 @mayal0pez @xoxomaterialgirl @belovedholland @rednights @minjix @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @holyhumorliteraturelight @edgycatx @collywobbl​ @blankspaceblankday​ @graciexmarvel

[t00turnttrauma]

prince jake-jtk

I’ve literally been sitting on this since Thanksgiving, but that was before I started this account. Either way, I wrote this at dinner because I was bored and all the little kids left. 

You placed another chip on the card.

“G 33,” Aunt Mildred called.

A collective sigh ran amongst the group. She continued calling out numbers at a medium pace, pausing for conversation every few numbers.

“Where is the bathroom?” Jake asked, trying to pay attention to the card game at the same time. His leg had been bouncing for the past few minutes and you assumed that he was in the verge of winning.

“Down the hall. Probably use the one upstairs,” you said. “It’s at the top on the right and should be open.” He grabbed his phone and drink. “Do you want me to keep playing for you?”

He shrugged. “If you want, I think I’m going to just go look around for a little bit.”

You nodded. Jake patted your head lightly, leaving the dining room. After the Thanksgiving dinner, it was tradition to play Bingo with the aunts and the oldest cousins. Most uncles were strewn around Grandma Wanda’s house, playing with nieces and nephews, on their phones, or watching whatever was on tv. The grandkids, your cousins, twelve and up were usually at the table, trying to win the jar of change Aunt Mildred collected over the year for a prize. The younger ones, which there were plenty of, were in the spare bedrooms upstairs playing with the endless amount of toys Grandma Wanda kept for the holidays.

After a few more rounds of Bingo, it was starting to get old. Even after switching cards over and over again, it was getting boring. You excused yourself, going to see what else was happening in the house. You made it to the main living room where everyone was chattering.

“Where is that boyfriend of yours?“ Your Uncle Sahid asked, motioning to the group of cousins your age, taking shots around the coffee table, pretending to be in shock from the strong alcohol.

“I do not know, Uncle,” you said, realizing you hadn’t seen Jake in well over an hour.

The dining room and kitchen were empty. Grandma Wanda had already packed the leftovers, separated and labeled for each family to take home. Something new this year was your own stack. Four Tupperware containers packed to the brim with leftovers to last at least two more meals. Your heart fluttered, realizing that you were becoming another full branch of the family, no longer beneath your parents. The den was full of your grandparents and the younger kids and babies, watching a rerun of the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Feet pounded on the ceiling, the kids running around upstairs and having fun. Jake had gone to find the bathroom. Maybe he locked himself inside and was silently panicking. You made your way up the stairs, listening to the kids shouting at one another. You followed the noise, opening the door to the first bedroom.

You were shocked. Mouth open, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Jake was in between the girls, Melanie and Petra. His hands were tied together with a sparkly scarf. Another scarf was around his eyes, blocking his view of anything. Jack and Victor were standing on the ottoman, plastic crowns on their heads and medieval style capes tied around their necks.

“It is I, King Jack,” Jack proclaimed, a foam sword in his hand. “I am here to bring my brother Jake back to the Kingdom!”

“You’ll never catch me alive, coppers!” Melanie shouted out, aiming her nerf gun at the poor boy.

The self proclaimed king broke character, placing his hands on his hips. “Mom said you’re not allowed to shoot people in the face, Melanie.”

“Mom isn’t here,” she said, pulling the trigger. The dart stuck to the wall beside Jack’s head.

Victor cackled, jumping from the ottoman. “Do not worry, brother. We are coming to rescue you.”

Jake shook his tied hands in the air. “Help me brother, these women have been torturing me for ages!” He shouted.

Petra patted his hair. “Your hair is so pretty.”

“Prince Jake! We are here to save you!” Victor cried.

Petra pulled out her own foam sword, placing it at Jake’s throat. “Step any closer and he gets it.”

Even with his eyes covered, you knew that his eyes were jumping side to side, trying to figure out if he was going to get jumped.

Melanie spotted you. “Y/N. Want to play with us? You can be the wicked witch of the west.” She held out the pointy black hat that she fished from the toy bin.

“Maybe. Can I borrow Jake for a minute?”

Petra pulled the blindfold from his eyes. He squinted, waving at you once he was used to the light. You helped him stand, pulling him to the door.

“Y/N,” he whined, “you’re embarrassing me in front of my new friends.”

The four kids were waiting patiently, the subject of their war in time-out.

“I thought I was the only one who could blindfold and tie you up,” you pouted, fixing his hair and collar.

He smirked at you. “Maybe I can stuff this in my pocket.” He raised it to your cheeks. “I think it goes better with your skin tone, though.”

You cackled. “Whatever you say, Prince Jake.” 

You returned to the living room with your grandparents. Some family members began to say goodbye. Petra was the most distraught, asking Jake to walk her out to her parents’ car. You followed them, carrying the Tupperware you were sent home with. 

“I promise, P, I will visit you when I come around. Swear it.” 

He crossed an X over his heart and she smiled. Her mom put her in her car seat, closing the door. He waved at her through the glass until they were gone. 

“You do know she lives in Vermont, right?” 

He started the car and began reversing. “You do know that I tour for a living, right?” He smirked, mocking your tone. 

“Touche.” 

[storiesofsvu]

First Date Turned Tradition

Peter Stone x reader Warnings: language, fluff. Covers the "stargazing" square for @adarafaelbarba bingo! for the sake of the story peter stays on playing ball and doesnt become a lawyer

Peter obviously loved baseball season, though baseball season was kind of year round when you were playing pro. But there was something so much more exciting about the actual season when games were played, the stands were full of excited fans cheering, drinking, and having a great time.

He loved the adrenaline of a good game, the sneaky cues between him and the catcher to know exactly what kind of pitch to throw the other team off with and win the game.

He would never admit it to certain people, but he also loved the ego boost that came with being a pro ball player. The cheers and claps on the back from the men, often accepting drinks from those who were fans if they ran into each other later in the night. And it was more than easy to get free drinks from the girls, the ones who would give a little shy giggle from across the bar, their skin sun kissed from a day in the stadium, already a little tipsy from the overpriced shitty beers.

He usually would just flirt his way through the night accept the drinks and on the rare occasion, take one (or two) back to his hotel room and keep the party going all through the night.

But then there were the special ones, the ones who he could tell were actually there cause they enjoyed the sport, knew exactly what was going on, yelled appropriately when strikes or bad calls were made. The ones who weren’t just smirking cause they were ball bunnies.

 Sometimes they were hidden away in the pricey sky boxes with top shelf liquor and snooty friends, rich supporters of the team.

But sometimes, like today, they were right on the sidelines, directly above the dugout and in the ample spot to chat.

Peter would flash a stunning grin, sign a couple of jersey’s, leisurely lean up against the fence while making some small talk with various fans in between innings.

But there was something about you that caught his eye, you glanced his way a couple of times, returning his smile with a glittering one of your own before your eyes darted back towards the game, letting out an offended yell as the other team tagged out one of the Cubs.

You were dressed in a cub’s jersey, fitted just enough but loose just enough to be comfortable, a pair of jean shorts with a matching hat. It was clear you were a fan, and you knew exactly what the game was about.

When he caught your eye again after coming off the field, he nodded his head in a ‘come hither’ motion and you rolled your eyes with a grin, playfully shaking your head before you scooped up your beer and moved over to the railing.

He introduced himself, some playful banter exchanged between the two of you as you laughed, saying you knew exactly who he was, and that his striking out record was pretty impressive. You managed to keep up with him jab for jab, pulling laughs from him, even managing to fluster him a little bit.

He disappeared into the dugout for a second, returning with the sharpie he used to sign mitts and jersey’s with, pulling the cap off with his teeth before grabbing your arm, scrawling his phone number onto the inside of your forearm before shooting you a wink and dashing back out onto the field.

You couldn’t help but shake your head at his flirtation, the grin evident on your cheeks as you returned to your seat.

When the game was over, you gave Peter a celebratory salute and wave before leaving the stadium with your friends. Despite not texting him right away, you did end up at the same bar by chance where he offered to buy you a drink and you got to know each other a little more personally.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asked with a wicked grin, “I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh Mr Stone… I do not go home on the first date.”

“Call me Peter. Mr Stone’s my father. And I promise I will walk you home like a perfect gentlemen when the night is up, nothing but an innocent bit of fun. Scout’s honour.”

You couldn’t resist the sparkle in his eyes, the cheeky grin on his face, he would stay true to his word, you knew it.

Much to your surprise, he sneakily looped his arm in yours, walking through the streets and the conversation drifted back to baseball. How you’d grown up on the sport, going to games with you Dad. He’d worked for the city, which mean weekly free tickets and extra free BBQ’d hot dogs and burgers through the season. How you tried your hand at playing but it was always just for fun, you were definitely not good enough aside from a group of friends drinking beers and playing ball during the summer months.

You were laughing at yourself, reminiscing about the time you’d nearly broken your cousin’s nose with a rouge ball when you stopped suddenly, realizing you were outside the stadium.

“What’re we doing here?” you asked, looking up at Peter who smiled in response.

“It’s a clear night.” He gestured toward the sky, “and there’s nothin’ like the view of the stars from the pitcher mound.”

“We’re breaking in?!”

“Nah, that would be illegal.” He shot you a wink before leading you towards one of the back doors, punching in a code and leading you through it before quickly silencing another alarm.

Hand in hand he lead you out to the field, watching the grin spread on your cheeks, the way your eyes lit up as you looked toward the sky.

There was no lie to his words, the sky full of glittering diamonds against a dark background.

“it’s so beautiful.” You said in awe and he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“oh I know…”

He tugged you to the pitcher’s mound, dropping down to sit next to it right in the middle of the diamond, slotting you between his legs, your back resting against his chest. “see… told ya…” his voice murmured against your ear and you couldn’t help but let out a small shiver, smiling at the way his arms wrapped around you.

The two of you stayed like that for hours, sharing soft little stories, laughing over your pasts, your childhood memories, getting to know each other on a whole new personal level.

You barely felt Peter’s lips brush against your clothed shoulder, your cheeks flushing as you marked it up to him simply being too close to you when he spoke.

Finally, he nudged you gently, murmuring something about overnight cleaners coming soon and you chuckled, prodding his side with a tease “you bring all the cute girls here?”

“Only the ones I really like.”

Just as promised, he walked you home, hand linked in yours the entire way, sharing more stories, glancing up to the glittering sky at each stop light you hit.

You slowed to a stop outside your building, turning to face him with a warm smile on your face as you glanced up at Peter.

“This is me. Thanks for the walk Pete.”

“For a girl like you, anytime.” He smiled, pushing a stray strand of your hair back behind your ear.

“Maybe we can do it again next time you’re in town?”

“I’d absolutely love that.” He paused for a moment, waiting for you to step away after he stepped closer to you, his hand trailing down your cheek. A small grin on his cheeks he leant in, kissing you softly, lips moving with grace against your own in a very easily found rhythm. “Sweet dreams. Don’t forget to call.” He smiled, watching the gleam in your eyes grow as you assured him you wouldn’t forget before he made sure you got inside safe and sound.

That little night of stargazing?

That was five years ago.

Now you were at every game of Peter’s, at home or on the road. And you always turned down the fancy box seats with the top shelf liquor and free finger foods.

Because you’d always much prefer being right about the dugout, cheering your husband on from the sidelines with cheap beer and nachos, close enough to steal a kiss whenever he came running back in from the field.

And on those lucky nights? He’d always sneak you back into the diamond after hours to watch the stars, murmuring just how much you loved each other until the late hours of the night.

______________

@fandom-princess-forevermore @lovesomerafi @michasia24 @altsvu @lawandorderimagines @whimsicallymad @averyhotchner @teamsladsandgents @mysticfalls01 @ssaic-jareau @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @rafivadafreddy @australiancarisi @itsjustmyfantasyroom @wandas-wife @caracalwithchips @thestarrynightslover @sia2raw @xoxabs88xox @im-just-a-mississippi-girl

[creweemmaeec11]

When person A is trying to be mad at person B, so person B tickles person A juuuust enough to make not smiling hard, while teasing them until they eventually crack a smile

Saw this on one of your posts and loved it....so...and uh....villain as person A and hero as person B? And could the hero and villain be lovers? Though it...would be cute.

So sorry for such a long wait! I really don't want to be known for this topic so I'm trying to space them out xD anyway, hope you enjoy!

Original prompt came from this list.

"Hey, I'm going to make some pasta for supper, is that alright?"

"Yup. Don't break the stove while you're at it," the villain in the bed monotoned, not taking their eyes off the tv as they flipped through the channels.

The hero blinked, before fully stepping into the bedroom as they tilted their head with a lopsided smile, "you're not still mad about earlier are you?"

"Nope," the villain replied sarcastically.

There was an exasperated sigh, "I already said I was sorry! I didn't mean to break your little figurine of me, it was an accident!"

"Mhm,"

"I don't know why you even need one when we live together, it's not like you don't see me enough," they tried to joke, but the villain didn't even bother to reply.

"Come onnnn," the hero groaned, "It was only a cheap little trinket anyway-"

They were cut off by the villain full-on glaring at that comment.

"Wait- no! That's not what I-" The hero sputtered, before catching themselves and taking a breath, "I can just get you another one, okay? There's like hundreds in the hero academy's gift store. Regardless, I can assure you the real deal is way better anyway,"

The villain just rolled their eyes as they glanced back at the screen and flicked to a different channel carelessly.

The hero narrowed their eyes. Something was... off. They knew the villain like the back of their hand, and the other didn't typically get like this.

Usually, if they were upset about something, the villain had no problem being blunt and upfront about what was wrong, and they were rarely petty after whatever dispute had been settled between them.

Which meant, something hadn't been settled yet. The hero was clearly still missing a piece of the puzzle.

"I cleaned it up already, you know, there's no mess," the hero tried.

The villain just hummed in agreement. Nope, it wasn't the mess.

They thought back to the incident, remembering being taken aback at how genuinely upset the villain looked.

"What was so special about it?"

Immediately, the hero saw the villain stiffen slightly, catching the ever so slight red that appeared on their cheeks.

Bingo.

"Nothing," the villain dismissed, "You said yourself it was only a cheap trinket,"

"Uh-huh," the hero drawled, slowly stepping closer, "to which you responded by glaring at me, meaning you clearly disagreed,"

"No, I was-... just saying it-... wasn't helping your case," they argued, "Anyway, weren't you about to go make supper?"

"An obvious lie followed by trying to distract me? Wow, apparently that thing was *very* special,"

Wait, when had the hero gotten that close‽

Before the villain could react the hero grabbed their ankles, pulling them downward on the bed so they fell backwards before jumping up and straddling their waist.

"And apparently," the hero continued, smirking mischievously as they loomed over the other, "you *really* don't want me to find out why,"

The villain paled slightly, looking up like a mouse that had been cornered by a cat before steeling their features and crossing their arms over their chest.

Alright. If that's how they were going to be, challenge accepted.

"Maybe I should talk to the hero academy about making a little figurine of you," the hero commented, while their index fingers began drawing slow circles along the villain's sides.

"Nobody would buy one," the villain grumbled under their breath as they tensed but tried not to make it obvious.

"I dunno about that," the hero replied, fingers creeping higher, causing the villain to twitch whenever the hero brushed over a particularly sensitive spot. "I could imagine kids playing with them like dolls. Maybe they would act out me finally catching you," they teased.

That... was admittedly a pretty funny mental image. But they weren't going to be giving in that easily.

Suddenly the hero's fingers fluttered along their sides, and the villain had to bite their lip to keep from smiling. They couldn't help the way they squirmed slightly, unable to sit completely still any longer.

"Are you gonna tell me yet?" the hero questioned playfully, yet tauntingly, lightening up on their soft tickling momentarily.

The only response they got was in the form of a sharp glare.

The hero shrugged, smirking, "suit yourself," they replied in a tone that was infuriatingly confident the villain would break eventually, and that they were perfectly content to wait. Some perfect balance between mischievous and innocent.

Immediately the villain could feel the sneaky fingers returning to dancing lightly along their sides, and they had to bite their lip to keep from smiling.

The hero above them laughed at this, "Gods you're adorable,"

Okay now that was just plain evil, the villain thought. The hero knew they were still terrible at taking compliments, especially direct ones, and even more so from the hero.

They also knew "adorable" was one of their worst ones. They could take being called smart, clever, even charming, but they'd never get used to being described as sweet, cute, kind, or most of all; adorable.

Unfair. It was completely unfair.

The hero only laughed again as the other lit up bright red beneath them.

They hadn't even done that intentionally, the hero just couldn't help the comment when the villain truly did look the part right now. However, if they were going down the path of flustering the other....

"I love you," the hero suddenly stated out of nowhere, voice and expression sickeningly earnest and genuine. Their eyes were shining as they tilted their head slightly.

Unfair. It was unfair. How could the hero just say things like that so easily?

They only got redder.

The slow circles were *just enough* to make not smiling difficult already. But it was so hard not to smile when the villain heard those words aloud. They were words the villain never thought they'd get to hear! Even hearing them normally caught them off guard!

Still, the villain stayed quiet.

"Last chance," the hero drawled warningly, "Don't make me do something you'll regret,"

They waited a moment, but still got no response. The hero gave an exasperated sigh, "Have it your way. What do you call a tailor that specializes in superhero costumes?"

The villain glanced up in confusion.

"Very *cape-*able,"

The punchline was accompanied by the fingers on their sides speeding up, and the villain broke, hands darting down to stop the hero's fingers as a smile broke out on their face.

"You're an idiot," the villain chuckled lightly, shaking their head.

The hero laughed, genuinely, before leaning down to kiss the villain beneath them, "I'm * your* idiot though,"

The villain hummed mid-kiss in agreement.

"So, what was so special about the figurine?" The hero asked when they broke. Their partner blushed, having momentarily forgotten the consequence of giving in.

The villain sighed, glancing away, "It was the first thing you ever gave me..." they explained quietly, "even if it was only meant as a joke at the time. It was the first thing *anyone* had given me in years, and it happened to be from you..."

There was an unbearable beat of silence, which forced the criminal to risk a glance up. Their lover was looking down at them with the most charmed smile they'd ever seen, which only caused them to blush more.

"I had no idea," they replied, "I promise I'll get you another one, okay?"

"It's alright, don't bother," the villain replied, causing shock to flash on the hero's face. The villain smirked, "You were right anyway" they explained, reaching up to grab the fabric of the hero's collar, "The real deal is so much better,"

With that, they yanked the hero back down again.

Support me on Ko-fi | BMAC

MASTER TAGLIST:

@llamaly @why-am-i-on-this-website-anyway @larinzz @sharraus @asrasmysoulmate @kaiwewi @akawrites000 @sunflower1000 @aroacewitchyacademic @aquarellesirene @lbelle0527 @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room @freefallingup13 @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @homosexual-having-tea @friiday-thirteenth @chocomarsgalaxy @ravenshadow17 @daydreamed-snippets @stankyt0es @jinx1365 @rainy-knights-of-villany @fromtheo-withlove @maybe-a-cat42 @the-sky-writes @watercolorfreckles @noirewaves @digitalart-tw @itsleighlove @chibicelloking @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @daedae127 @wish1bone1 @avery1s @vampart @ilikebooksbuttheresnousernames @defectivehero @vpow

[hotwings0203]

Gilded Cage

A/N: It’s embarrassing how long this took but oh well, happy new year to everyone and I hope you enjoy scummy yandere hawks!

Warnings: dubcon, kidnapping, abuse, toxic relationships, degradation, yandere themes

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

At first she welcomed the bright flashing lights like a breath of fresh air, but in due time it made her throat close up like the rest of the situation.

He had agreed to let her out if she behaved, and that meant no biting, scratching, screaming, flinching, temper tantrums, and worst of all, no silent treatment.

And she would take it like a champ if it meant seeing any other person in 6 months.

He had kept her here like a flightless bird in this cage of theirs, and oh how ironic it was that she was succumbed to be the prey of this ruthless hawk, with him able to soar amongst the people and buildings while Y/n stayed perched in the house, her ever-growing wings mentally becoming too much for her to control and stay silent about.

She needed space, she wanted to leave, but she didn’t dare voicing any of her wants, especially when Keigo made it so clear how her meager wants were of no match for his needs.

And his needs, as he’s made so clear thus far, include her being a pliant, quiet, yet loving little birdie who cooks, cleans, and lays with him day and night without complaint.

God forbid she speaks up about her...living conditions, as he liked to so generously supply to her the first and last time she ever had this conversation with him. She tried telling him how she originally had loved their relationship of a couple of months, and sure it might have been weird for him to push her into moving in with him only after 3 months, but it was because of how much he loved her or so he said at least, when he bashed her head repeatedly on the ground when she told him it “wasn’t normal to rush into things so fast”.

Sure, he had a big spacious penthouse lent to him by the Hero Commission so being physically cramped was never a problem, and yes okay he showered her with gifts and little trinkets, just like birds did with their mates even more so after a big fight that usually left her black and blue, with swollen lips, ripped up knees and big red welts on her wrists while the hero himself was left with not even a feather out of place.

But there were days where their movie nights and cuddling sessions didn’t cut it for her anymore. There were nights when she couldn’t take his suffocating arms around her a second longer, only to be replaced by an even heavier and darker presence when she tried turning on her side away from him.

Sometimes it would be a chain reaction caused by the smallest of catalysts, however. It would be on a day where he left the restraints on a little too tightly, and Y/n was forced to use toothpaste on her wrists instead of the salve Keigo always kept in the medicine closet. Other times it would happen when he would keep feeling up her sides and pressing into her after a long day of her cooking in hopes that the plentiful food would be enough to keep him occupied away from her, even if it was for an hour or two.

It never was, though. He always wanted her, whether it was her scent, her presence, or her clothes that he kept in his pockets on his missions.

On those days, the days where she felt too much Keigo, too many feathers and too much Hawks was when she snapped.

Down would go the plates, the expensive wine glasses, the vases filled with flowers sent by hundreds of fangirls who knew nothing about the monster that he actually was. She’d tear out her mussed hair, red-faced with tears that ruined her makeup the makeup that she liked to wear on these types of days just to piss him off, knowing that he thought “excess makeup is for whores and catfishes. I already know you’re a whore, well, my whore, but you’re not even good enough at applying makeup to be deemed a catfish so don’t even try it hummingbird” while screaming in his face to let go, for the love of god Hawks PLEASE let me go I want to go home I don’t want this anymore I don’t want YOU anymore this isn’t working out I don’t love you-

And crack would be the sound of his palm across her face, knocking her to the floor. On these types of days he wouldn’t even think she deserved a change in facial expression, staring down at her pathetic trembling body while his lips were set in a subtle casual smile, his hands stuffed in his pockets as if he never raised an arm a second ago, and his eyes remained golden and neutral, the only indication of him processing her tantrum was the black glint in his pupils that dilated every time she gasped and sobbed on the floor.

To ensure that his precious, oh-so fragile lovebird wouldn’t hurt herself any further with her stupidity, he’d crouch down inches away from her face and cock his head slightly as a real bird would do. He’d reach out and lift her chin to face him while his other hand would snake up her thigh to try and console her which only succeeded in making her shake and breath unevenly.

Leaning forward to ghost his lips over the shell of her ear, he’d relish in the way her mouth would part in terror as he would lovingly whisper every threat of what he’d do to her the next time she wanted to be like a brat, because god help her if she thought he couldn’t tame a brat after dealing with a lifetime of villains.

It was almost laughable, how easy she was to silence. He didn’t even need to use feathers to pull her to her feet when he would tell her to go to the bed and get on all fours like the bitch she was.

She had to earn her way back into being his good, obedient little dove, on days like these.

But after these days would pass and she would indeed realign with his expectations, he would reward her greatly.

Never like this, though.

Y/n is brought to the present again as another flash of light from the paparazzi snaps her out of her daze. As the spots begin to fade from her vision, she sees Keigo in front of her adorning his trademark “for the fans-only” grin, although Y/n would call it a sleazy smile, the same smile he would give her before he signaled his feathers to cut deep into her feet so she’d stop kicking at him as he dragged her on the floor and feels him squeeze her hand a little too tightly to be dubbed as endearing.

“Stop zoning out on me, you look like a ditz”, he hisses through his teeth, his grin now resembling more of a bared-teeth look.

She tries to try to fix her face and pull the corners of her mouth up, attempting to also brighten her eyes and looking interested at the blond interviewer who was now conversing with Hawks about his recent team-up with Endeavor. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to not shove past the phony smiles and flashy attire enveloping her and waltz down the red carpet to the doors of the gala. She thinks if she hears him utter another word about how he’s so incredibly blessed to have the love and support of my fans, family, and most importantly, my girlfriend who has stuck by my side through thick and thin, she’ll puke on the bedazzled yellow dress the interviewer has on.

As if. He’d probably whisk her off to the nearest bathroom and pummel her on the floor right then and there just for being distracted, but not before fucking her as well.

She feels Hawks nudge her side, and on cue she darts her head up and really plasters on a blinding smile as she focuses on the question that was just asked to her.

“Sorry, what was that? I think I got distracted by your outfit, you look lovely tonight, an absolute catch.” She winks for good measure, just to salvage the damage of ignoring the conversation and Keigo’s tight-lipped smile, which was beginning to soften.

Bingo.

“Oh you’re so sweet! I can see why Mr. Number Two here swooped in to take such a cutie like yourself.” The interviewer giggled, twirling a golden lock around her finger. “But no worries, I was just saying you should come make a public appearance more often! I mean, the media barely gets to see you with Hawks intimately, it would be a great excuse to get all glammed-up as well...I mean, if Hawks here hasn’t got his talons sunk too deep into you.” She laughs shrilly and doesn’t notice how both Y/n and Keigo tense up at her insinuation.

Yeah lady, you’re not too far from the truth. The last time I tried to look nice and go outside, I was bedridden for a week and a half while nursing frozen peas over 7 different parts of my body, inside and out.

But if Keigo can bullshit more than he can tell the truth, then so could she.

She laughs warmly and places her hand on his shoulder lightly, just to sell the “supportive girlfriend” look.

“Well, I really would love to come out and show my support for him more often, but we’ve both agreed that with all the publicity anyways, it’s just too much pressure for me to deal with. I’d rather just stick with what I know and keep it hush between him and I.” She turns her gaze to Keigo now, superficially giving him a puppy-in-love look but discreetly seeking his approval if what she said was the correct thing or not.

He merely gave her an amused smile, as if to say damn, wasn’t expecting that answer but I guess it’s fine. Yeah. Two can play at that game.

Pleased with her answer, the blond bimbo turns on her heel and sashays away, leaving the couple by themselves.

Keigo gives Y/n a side eye and cautiously holds out his elbow for her to take. A peace offering for the meantime, just to reward her for the quick save.

Don’t fuck this up for me, or you’ll regret it tenfold when we get back home.

“Shall we?” He waits for her to oblige, and of course she does.

Arm-in arm, they gracefully walk down the red carpet towards the gold plated doors. Upon entering, Y/n’s breath is taken away at the grand hall, with red banners hanging from the balconies that had navy blue and gold words of praise for the heroes engraved in the silk. Hundreds of pro heroes filled the room, much more than what she was used to from only interacting with her captor for months.

Guiding her over to the long granite bar, Keigo squeezes her arm before lightly dropping it. Before she can move, he stands directly in front of her and his vermillion wings unfurl and slightly surround the two of them, creating their own little space. To others, it might’ve just looked like two lovers embracing each other and having their own little moment. Y/N knew better, however, and suspected he had ulterior motives.

She was right.

“I’m gonna leave you here for a few minutes, ‘kay? I don’t want you moving from here,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and she had to suppress a shudder at his unwanted proximity. “The feather stays on, and I better not see or hear anything funny while I’m away.”

She nodded and touched her necklace that was indeed laced with one of his feathers, remembering the deal he made when he agreed to let you out for the day.

Ah yes, the dreaded feather.

When she had approached him on shaking legs two days prior, Hawks was brushing his hair in the bathroom, keen on meticulously keeping it styled and ruffed up in the morning. It was one of the things that Y/N would begrudgingly say was one of his finest features, along with his natural eyeliner-shaped markings and rugged yet handsome facial features.

On good days, she liked to lightly trace her fingers and across his sharp jawline and feel the stubble growing on his blushed face. She’d try to stop immediately however, when he’d open his eyes and catch her hand, moving it across his body much to her chagrin and down to his-

She had stood outside the door, fumbling with the hem of her thin nightie and desperately trying to pull the short material past her bare thighs as she mustered up the courage to bring up her proposition.

Keigo slowly ceased his brushing when he saw the meek little thing quivering outside his door, and he quirked up an amused eyebrow. He braced both arms on either side of the sink, and let out a light exhale, before addressing her.

“Something wrong hummingbird?”

She dragged her eyes from the floor up to his dilated golden irises, and blurted out what she had been rehearsing in her head for the past couple of days:

“DoyouthinkIcouldcomewithyoutothegala?”

“Huh?” he snickered, thoroughly bewildered by what incomprehensible nonsense she had stuttered out.

Y/N bit her lip and took in a shaky breath, strike one, she fumbled her first try.

“Haw- uh, Keigo,” she corrected quickly. He preferred her using his first name, his real name. He claimed it made things more intimate between them as if carving his name on her back hadn't been enough to seal their “intimacy’-she didn’t need to be told twice what to call him by after that day “I was wondering...if I’m good and I don’t give you a hard time, can I come with you to the hero's gala?”

Keigo’s brow furrowed slightly, and he cocked his head to the side like a real bird. He seemed to be contemplating it.

“Alright,” he conceded after a couple seconds. “If, and I mean if you listen to me and don’t try any funny business while we’re there I’ll let you tag along.”

Y/N darted her eyes up to him, hope swimming in her heart.

“But you have to wear the feather.”

She immediately blanched.

A major inconvenience that she had come to terms with in the duration of her stay with him had been his stupid fucking feathers that layed oh-so-casually around the floor where she walked and coincidentally clinging to her clothes wherever she went out of Keigo’s eyesight, even though she was trapped on the same floor with him.

They had special properties; they could detect any movement, sense any vibration whenever he called for it. This made for a perfect tracker for Y/N in terms of whenever he wanted an update on her heartbeat, her mood, her whereabouts, and anything in between.

Yes, it was suffocating. But she would much rather it only be a suffocating feeling rather than him actually directing hundreds of feathers to surround her and hold her down on the bed or floor to do whatever he wanted with her in any position he pleased.

She didn’t dare complain to his face, however. She’d grit her teeth, grin and bear it, listen to every whim he demanded of her if it meant one night of superficial normalcy.

And so she put on her best behavior on the days leading up to the main event. She made dozens of dishes that circulated around chicken (his favorite binge food), she let them have “cuddle time”, with no complaints whatsoever when he insisted on bathing her and dressing her up in stupid pink frilly skirts, and she even gave him little subtle looks with a batting of her eyelashes when he looked down fondly at her good mannerisms and praised her for being such a sweet little birdie.

Eventually, her acting paid off and on the morning of the gala she was merited with a silk red dress that stopped at her upper thigh, ornamented with gold earrings and a 12K necklace to really sell off the look-which was of course wrapped around one of his feathers. Hawks had even hired a makeup artist who was instructed to not ask or say anything to Y/N save for questions about the products, much to her pleasant surprise.

She was still reminded of how much she had to grovel for him every time he rewarded her that afternoon.

“You look stunning, chickadee,” Keigo leaned against the dresser with his arms crossed, and smiled warmly at Y/N. “You’re making her look like a real model, maybe she should take over my job instead. Or, actually, maybe you could stop by my agency and make me all pretty for my next photoshoot.” He directed this last tease at the makeup artist and winked, causing the oblivious employee to giggle and blush.

Ugh, barf. He’s even a sleaze when I’m right here.

Y/N feigned a roll of her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the hero. She could feel his dilated eyes boring into her the rest of the 15 minutes of touch-ups. Eventually everything was done, and Hawks left praise after shameless praise fall from his lips and onto the poor fangirl’s heart as he guided her out the door, a hand on her lower back as he did so.

She took the opportunity to get up and walk to the full-length mirror, admiring how she looked for the first time in ages. Gone were the multi-colored marks that decorated her body as if she were nothing more than a mere canvas for her painter to use. Her eyes seemed a little brighter too, and it wasn’t just the makeup that caused it. She stood a little straighter and squared her shoulders, her chin tilted up more than before while she stared at her reflection. She didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror, and she liked it for once.

It was ridiculous, she knew it was to feel so vain but she couldn’t help but bask in her potential freedom for just one night. She looked gorgeous, she felt confident, and she had earned it all on her own.

Cocking her head to the side, she tried to practice a couple smiles to be camera-ready for when the time came. She turned the corners of her lips up, then showed her teeth, and even tried fluffing her hair up sensually. Biting her lip slightly, she threw her head back, causing her curled locks to bounce and lowered her eyelids to look sexy. She giggled at her own stupidity and poses, completely unaware that a certain winged-man had entered the room and leaned against the door for the past couple of minutes, simply watching the little show she put on.

“That's quite a look you’ve got there hun, why don’t you make those faces more often with me?”

She immediately froze, her breath hitching. She didn’t dare look at him in the eye from the mirror.

“I mean, I’m the only one who should be seeing such a slutty expression anyways, right?” He said ever-so casually, hands in his pockets as he slowly strolled up behind her, and she couldn’t help but think as her eyes darted up to meet him in the mirror that the sadistic shit-eating grin on his face didn’t suit so well with his god-like features.

She visibly wilted, her shoulders hunched and head down in contrast to the tall, powerful woman she had felt like mere seconds ago. Her breath quickened as he leaned over her shoulder, grazing his teeth over the sensitive part under her ear, and she bit her lip harshly to stop the squeak that threatened to escape her trembling lips.

“If I had known that a pretty dress and some makeup would make you act like a wanton little whore, I would’ve done this wayyy sooner. I guess you really are just another dumb bimbo bitch who does anything she’s told if she gets to feel important for a night.” He whispered in her ear, resting his head on her shoulder and looking up at her with innocent eyes, ones that imitated the mocking tone of voice he used.

It seemed like he wanted her to feel disgusting, to wilt under his cruel words that he used like knives-knives that were sharpened with his tone and body language, knives that were so intimately and carefully chosen. They worded so that they were used to their full extent to cut and carve through her heart.

“Is that what you are my little songbird, hmm? You wanna be a pretty baby and have everyone’s attention on you? I’m hurt, here I was thinking I was enough for you.” He pouted, and with every word he spoke the grip his hands had around her waist tightened.

She tried to protest but he plowed through her pitiful attempts.

“Hell, if you want some attention so bad and whore yourself out, I should call over some friends! Yeah, we can skip tonight’s gala, would you like that songbird? For me to share you with my friends so they can satiate your whorish needs?” And at his he shook her lightly, his grip around her middle choking her and cutting off her circulation. “N-no, Hawks,” she wheezed out. “I just... liked my makeup, that’s it. I only want you, I promise. I won’t cause any trouble tonight, please don’t call any friends over.”

She looked up at him in the mirror with eyes the size of saucers, blinking away tears and trying her best to show how apologetic she was at her audacity to feel good about herself.

He loosened his arms and straightened up, peering down at her disgustedly. He had absolutely no regrets about the way she sucked in air immediately when he relented, or about the way she frantically brushed the tears from her eyes, trying to preserve her mascara from running. (not that he would’ve minded). She needed to learn her lesson; he controlled her highs and lows. Only he had the permission of holding her fragile emotions in the palm of his hand, and if she didn't want that palm turning into a fist and breaking her, she would do well not to piss him off and treading carefully about flaunting what was meant for his eyes only.

She wanted to lock herself in the bathroom and cry out to her heart's content from being embarrassed and degraded like this. She kept absolutely still however, when she felt his hands lightly tracing the feather on her collarbones. It was an unspoken threat, and when their eyes met once again in the mirror, the way he sized her up confirmed it.

The feather stayed on.

Which brought her back to the present.

Y/N had already downed 3 glasses of champagne while reminiscing about earlier today, something Hawks would’ve surely tutted at. Finding herself bored, she meandered around the bar, keeping close to where he left her.

She scanned the room for her ‘lover’ and found him laughing with a group of his friends, his head thrown back and the charming sound of his deep yet lilted voice carrying through the hall, entrapping anyone who was around.

He certainly had presence, no sense in denying it.

Any girl would’ve been crazy to deny him, and Y/N wished that Hawks had fallen for a girl that didn’t want to deny him out of his hundreds of fangirls a point that was set in stone in Y/N’s mind when she saw a tall brunette clinging to his arm while she shrieked with laughter at whatever stupid story Hawks was telling.

Said fangirl seemed to also have been put under his contagious spell, from the way she so obviously threw herself on his arm and pushed her chest against his side under the pretense of shaking with laughter. Various other parts of her body seemed to be shaking against him too, but he didn’t seem to mind based on the smirk he quickly looked down at her with.

For the second time that night, Y/N wanted to throw up.

Was it jealousy? Negative. Rather, it was frustration that he literally had girls throwing themselves at him, tits hanging out and all but yet he wanted what he knew he couldn’t have. She assumed that it was this mentality of his that landed him at being Number 2, chasing after the seemingly impossible until it was tangible.

It was easier on some days to try to understand his point of view. It was much better than getting lost in the hours pondering what kind of bad karma she inherited from a past life to go through this hell. But on some mornings when she felt stone-cold sober, she remembered that she was a person, not some objective or conquest that he had rightfully won. Deciding to try and take her mind off from the trainwreck that was unfolding in front of her, Y/N aimlessly wandered to the side of the bar and down a grand hallway that was less crowded and had less Hawks.

On either side of the hall, giant bronze frames held the portraits of past heroes and had little scriptures of their accomplishments. Hawks had always talked about how he wanted his name up there, and how one day he was going to do something incredible to have his own face up on the hall of fame. His idol, Endeavor, already has taken place on the wall right next to All Might’s frame, and Y/N looks up and ponders at both of their pictures.

And how befitting is it, that Hawk’s idol is also accused of a sinister and tumultuous family past.

Maybe he doesn’t need to work too hard to follow in the footsteps of the number one hero.

“Quite the hero, Endeavor is. Even though there is controversy about the nature of his past and his redemption efforts, he set many precedents as to how a true hero should act.” Y/N’s head snaps to the right where Edgeshot had just joined her. He wore a navy blue tux with red seams, his trademark mask covering the lower half of his face.

“Yeah, you’d think his admirers would try to follow in the footsteps of changing themselves too,” she muttered bitterly. “I’ve noticed his biggest fans seem to take after his more...old brutish traits rather than the better person he’s trying to be now.”

The masked hero laughed softly, and Y/N looked at him suspiciously.

“What, you don’t think heroes have their own fair share of flaws?” She challenged.

“No no, don’t get me wrong of course. I would be on an inappropriate level of naivety to assume that, considering I’m a part of the whole corrupt system itself. I think, however, that change within a person comes after an extended time of self-reflection. You have to look within yourself and accept that you were wrong in the first place, if you want to change.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment.

“Do you think the villains are ever right? About society brushing the flipside of heroism under the carpet, I mean. It doesn’t matter if the heroes are trying to save people because it's expected of them, if they aren’t actually compassionate about their cause then is there really a point?” She asked desperately, hoping he could understand her.

Edgeshot hesitated for a moment before answering.

“In my years of experience,” he said quietly, still looking up at Endeavor’s painting, “the ones who have at heart a solid reason for acting the way they do are most always justified. It may not always be a good reason, but a foundation always gives way to a justification that can be argued for.”

All of a sudden, Y/N gasped as white hot pain sliced through her sternum. She looked down and saw the red feather on her necklace quivering as a fine line of red sprouted from the cut it made.

“Are you alright?” Edgeshot asked, looking fairly alarmed, his hand reaching for her shoulder.

“Yes, of course! My necklace is just a little sharp, a little edge just nicked me that's all.” She said shrilly, already backing away from the concerned hero. Turning on her heel, she picked up the hem of her dress and tottered out of the hall, not paying any mind to the vermillion plumage that drifted down her chest, past her waist and eventually clinging onto her leg, making little nips and stabs here and there.

Blood was pounding through her head as she navigated the way back to where Hawks had left her to be. Her palms were sweaty and she was sure her hair was becoming messy as she whipped her head around, attempting to look past tall heads and bodies that blocked her way to the bar.

Shitshitshitshit god please don’t let him be there already please please please-

But it seemed as though god wasn’t in a merciful mood, because lo and behold, the raptor was leaning against the long granite island with a glass in his hand.

He seemed to be casually grinning, swirling a maroon substance in his cup and choking it down leisurely, but as Y/N drew closer she knew-as expected- he seemed off.

The smell of alcohol was nauseating around him, he must have been drinking something strong. His wings, although lightly flapping behind him, were pointed at the edges and shaking lightly. His eyes were completely dilated, and were shifting around the room until they settled on her meek figure rushing up to him.

“Hey there birdy, long time no see. Did you have a good chat with Edgeshot? I’m sure you both enjoyed talking shit about me behind my back.” Y/N winced at how charismatic and booming his laugh was after his ominous remark. It was too carefree, a complete cover-up of how she knew he was actually feeling, and that scared her the most.

“Hawks I-”

“Keigo, sweetheart, did you forget my name already after talking with just one person? Damn, I’m hurt, guess keeping you locked up at home was the right decision after all if you’re acting like such a stone-cold bitch now.”

She stared up at him, openmouthed and thoroughly panicked now. He was talking too much, he was going to expose himself and her-

Wait. Why is she covering for him? Wouldn’t it be better if he blabbed everything else so people could realize what he’s doing? Maybe someone would intervene and save her!

But it seemed like he was three steps ahead of her and had already figured that out, because his face flushed slightly and his eyes darkened and narrowed, with lips set in a flat line. When Y/N saw this change, she tried to back away but he quickly grabbed her hand and yanked her out the room and through the exit doors. It was all happening so fast, she could hear various people call out to Hawks but he plowed through them so fast that she didn’t have time to even process that they were out of the building and in the air.

She screamed as he soared to an even higher altitude, clinging onto his neck for dear life. The wind whipped past her face, stinging her cheeks with the frigid cold and water particles that embedded on her lashes. Hawks was laughing hysterically the entire time he gained height, his talons ripping through her dress and piercing her skin, even overlapping the previous cuts his feather had made earlier.

“S-stop, what’re you doing, are you fucking crazy?” She shrieked, her words losing volume as the air was ripped out of her lungs.

“KEIGO, its KEIGO you stupid fucking cunt!” he screamed in her face. His arms loosened around her waist, and suddenly Y/N was falling, falling, falling straight for the asphalt.

She couldn’t even turn her head as her limp body plummeted down for imminent death. Her lungs begged for oxygen, fear settling like lead in her stomach, but the second she closed her eyes for what she thought was the last time, (Hawks) Keigo swooped down and yanked her back into his sinister embrace by her hair.

Ignoring the ripping strands she felt in her skull, she flailed around in midair trying to grab onto something-she reached up to grab his foot but he noticed and kicked her square in the face. Y/N had never before felt such terror and pain, mentally or physically.

Damn her pride, she wants to live for god's sake.

“Keigo,” she sobbed, remembering just in time to use his real name lest he smash her teeth in again, “please put me down, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I talked to Edgeshot but I swear it wasn’t anything bad or about you.” The warm blood streaming down her nose began to harden on her upper lip from the chilly altitude they had reached.

Abruptly, he shifted his grip and pulled her up by her hair (she winced at that painful adjustment) so that he could hold her around her waist now.

They had to have been at least 200 or so feet in the air. The pair had cleared their way through some clouds and could clearly see the full moon right in front of them. It was deathly quiet except for Y/N’s labored breathing through her fractured nose, and her fear racked even further as she looked up at Hawks and realized that he was simply staring down at her with completely dilated eyes that narrowed and gleamed at her expression. He truly looked like a bird of prey right now, a predator that was forcing her to play the part of his prey, a point that solidified when he suddenly wrapped one hand around her throat to feel her heartbeat that thumped like a rabbits’.

The light from the moon reflected off his back, causing his front to be completely shadowed so that the contours of his sharp face seemed ever more looming and dangerous. Both of them stayed suspended in the air for a minute or two like that, Y/N not daring to speak unless he granted her a sign to repent.

After a long, painstakingly suspenseful minute of studying her face, he finally growled “We’re going home.”

It seemed to take only a mere couple of minutes for the Number Two hero to travel halfway across the city. Y/N barely had time to try and drink in the beautiful colors that accented the winding streets and buildings below her, knowing that it would most probably be a long time before she saw anything else that resembled freedom again.

He finally began to descend rapidly, forcing her to cling onto his jacket and shove her face into the crook of his neck to avoid getting whiplash. Peeking through her lashes, she recognized the balcony floor of his penthouse rushing underneath their feet. Dread and anxiety surged through her veins as he finally landed and postiviley threw her off of him and onto the wooden floor. She slid a good couple of feet and skinned her legs in the process, unable to stop her momentum as she slammed back into a lamp.

Dazed, she saw stars as she rubbed her aching head. Unfortunately she didn’t see him, rushing over to her the second she landed.

He grabbed her jaw tight and wrenched her bleary eyes to look up at him.

What he saw was beautiful.

A trembling mess beneath him, makeup runny and complemented with blood that flowed from her nose like an eternal stream. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way she kept flinching any time he shifted; it made his pants tighten and caused his teeth to grit in what he measured to be the absolute last bits of self restraint he had for the night. He had truly ruined her, and he internally patted himself on the back at his work.

Was he mad? Yes, wholly and completely at her betrayal of his orders.

Did he regret losing his temper? Absolutely not. In fact, if you ask him, he should get mad at her more often like this. If it merited her pliant and vulnerable being, then who was he to deny such pleasure? Fuck he should’ve done this from the start- blowing up at mild disobediance instead of acting like a doting, patient boyfriend.

“You alive?” he roughly shook her head and her teeth chattered inside her skull while he did so.

“Yes,” she whispered, mouth popped open by his gloved fingers as he shoved a digit inside her warm and wet cavern. It was embarrassing how drool seeped through her lips and dribbled down her chin, but humility was the least concerning factor in her environment at the moment.

“Good. After acting like such a tramp you better fucking be. I told you one thing,” and he slapped her for added emphasis to his frustration, “can you repeat what I told you? Or are you so braindead that you can’t remember the one order I gave you when I trusted you to sit still and look pretty like a good little bitch?”

“Nnngh, no I rem-I remember.” Y/N panted out, attempting to talk through puckered lips and drool. “You told me to stay at the bar and not to move.”

“Exactly. So what part of that was so hard to understand, huh?” He hissed through his teeth, looking deranged.

“I just got bored, that’s all. I wanted to talk to another person…” Even though she didn’t finish her sentence, Hawks understood her perfectly.

I wanted to talk to another person apart from you.

He let out a mocking laugh, stretching his arms over his head to hide his shaking fists. Rage swept through his body like wildfire, licking up his throat and cheeks. His face was flushed and unreadable to Y/N as he sauntered around the couch and plopped down on it, spreading his legs to seem as uncouth as possible.

She sat shivering on the floor, unsure of if he wanted her to follow him or wither away on the floor like a mutt.

As he sighed loudly however, her body immediately tensed as though bracing for another painful impact. She daringly peeked over her shoulder and saw the back of his head protruding from the black and red leather couch. Lazily flicking his wrist up to a height where she could see, he vaguely beckoned her over without saying a word.

Immediately she scampered over to him and situated herself at his feet (where she belonged). Her eyes were downcast, and he begrudgingly accepted it as a form of submission on her part. No sense in beating the disobedience out of her now if she already knows what she did wrong.

Hawks heaved out another heavy sigh and let his head fall backwards. On one hand, he was slightly drunk and his head was killing him-he just wanted to go to sleep and forget today ever happened. However, there was a problem that was contributing to his growing migraine, and that problem was sitting right in front of him, practically kneeling at his feet for mercy. More than sleep, he wanted to take care of said issue and call it a night, so he decided to skip the sweet talk and warm up.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid. I’m gonna close my eyes and by the time I open them you better have already thought of a way to make tonight up to me, and you better have already put that plan in action. Then, we’re going to bed and when you wake up you’ll regret the day you even thought of talking to anyone apart from me, since you seem to have forgotten who’s been coddling your ass all this time.” He sneered, relishing at the way Y/N’s face went pale.

True to his word, he closed his eyes, glad to see his last view as the pathetic bitch who was about to service him. The feel of slight fumbling on his zipper made him feel even more drunk and giddy as it was pulled down. Maybe the entire evening wasn’t a complete wash after all.

Yeah, he should take her out a lot more.

[madswonders]

A Lesson In Romance #11: Actions

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: A little ✨spice✨ and a little ✨action✨

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, gun violence, mild (???) dirty talk

Word Count: 2.3k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they pretend to be married.

A/N: I would like to dedicate this chapter to the Classy Restaurant Music playlist on Spotify for capturing the fancy restaurant vibes I needed hahahah

Masterlist | All chapters here!

---------

"You know, this is not how I imagined coming back here." You said quietly. Next to you, Spencer smiled.

Your eyes were still adjusting to the warm light, a stark contrast to the blue winter evening outside. This was your second time here, technically, but the sensation of his hand on your waist and the cool metal on your left hand made it all feel brand new.

"Table for Mr. and Mrs. Reid." He said to the hostess, calmer than you'd ever seen him before. You didn't miss the way he tugged you closer when he said "Mrs." and despite the truth of the matter, giddy smiles tugged on both your lips.

But it was the hostess' reaction that gave it away for you. When she glanced at your intertwined hands and matching rings with a soft smile, you began to realise why the two of you were chosen for this in the first place. The effect you had on each other was hypnotising.

Sending you and Spencer undercover as newlyweds was probably the easiest decision Hotch has ever had to make. His reasoning came from basic human psychology; people are drawn to extreme events, and while this generally applied to accidents and tragedy, it also applied to marriage and child birth.

In this case, few things would stand out more in a crowded restaurant than a pair of shiny new wedding rings, a large bouquet of flowers, and a bottle of champagne for two. And to top it all off, he had the two of you. Everything else came secondary.

Still, it was strange. Being isolated from the operation only made you more in awe of your team. Even under the duress of three hours, they operated like clockwork; devising a comprehensive undercover mission, building a profile for an unsub they didn't even know, and training an entire restaurant's staff in a handful of hours.

By the time the final pieces fell into place, all that was left was for you and Spencer to carry out the final stage of the plan.

Maybe it was the pressure of having the entire team rest on your shoulders, or this new "character" you had to play, but something felt different tonight. It was like electricity crackled in the air; you felt it when his hand lingered on your back, low enough that you felt a growing warmth in your belly, making you yearn for his touch long after he let go.

Maybe it was the stress from going undercover for the first time that made you trail your gaze down his suited figure, muscled and lean as a side effect of this job. Maybe that's why the image of him standing at the foot of your bed in this very suit couldn't leave your mind, until the physical action of squirming in your seat jolted you out of your own imagination.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Spencer locked eyes with you, his hazel eyes dark under the dim restaurant lighting.

"Just thinking about you." You admitted, placing your hand across the table. He took your hand in his instantly, his thumb tentatively resting on the jewel on your ring finger.

"All good things, I hope?"

"Nothing but good things."

"Well, perhaps I can add to that. You look beautiful." He pressed a soft kiss to your hand, his eyes crinkling playfully when your cheeks turned pink in response.

"How do I know you're not just saying that for our audience?" You whispered, eyes darting to his tie where the mic was hidden.

"If it weren't for our audience, I'd be saying a lot more, love." He replied lowly, and you bit back a thought you didn't want any of your colleagues to hear. You could already imagine them cringing as they listened in on your conversation, and the image made you giggle.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Dr. Spencer Reid?" You accused jokingly.

"When love is not madness, it is not love." He answered simply.

You thought for a moment, before the reference clicked in your head. "Pedro Calderon de la Barca. Interesting choice. You weren't lying about your education in classic literature, doctor." You looked impressed.

"I'm hurt that you even doubted it." He mocked insult, and you grinned.

"No, I'm just surprised."

"Wait until you see my actual surprise." He smiled, gesturing behind you as a waiter appeared carrying two plates in your direction.

"I took the liberty of ordering our food in advance." He explained. When you looked at him in surprise, he simply shrugged. “I figured I should expand my theory beyond breakfast.”

"And here I thought tonight couldn't get anymore exciting." You said, marvelling at the appetisers as they were placed in front of you two.

“You can reserve your compliments for when I guess everything correct, and I will.” He mock bowed.

“You're on." You giggled. "Now, can we finally have some of this champagne?"

Dinner went by smoother than you thought it would, and thankfully for your team listening in, your conversations steered away from thinly veiled flirting to classic films as the food appeared.

Not that it was any easier for you talk about Billy Wilder and Francis Ford Coppola with what was happening in front of you. Spencer had taken to playing with the ring on your finger while you talked, and each time his long fingers brushed against yours, it sent chills down your spine.

But it was when his leg brushed against yours underneath the clothed table that you felt yourself lose grip of your facade. The first time it happened, you even thought it might be a mistake. But after the second and third time, it was clear that Spencer knew exactly what he was doing, even if the innocent expression on his face didn't betray anything.

If you didn't know him better, you would even think that he liked it, teasing you underneath the restaurant table on case, where you couldn't act on it. Instead, you pushed away the thought and allowed your skin to prick with every touch; all the while you sipped on your champagne, taking the chance to observe the patrons around you through the rim of your glass.

Unfortunately, your luck was a little worse in the unsub department, and your concern only continued to grow as your entrées made way for dessert.

Before you entered the restaurant, the team had discussed the best-case-scenario for tonight — identifying and apprehending the unsub quietly before the dinner shift was up. But if you ran out of time, there was always one back-up plan, something that would definitely force the unsub's hand.

The good thing about having two unsubs now was that victimology became incredibly simple to decipher. What you and Spencer had considered inconsistencies at first, were now clear patterns distinguishing each one.

The first one was impulsive but experienced, driven purely by a compulsion to complete his pattern as fast as possible. Despite that, he had the sense to stick to high-risk victims and secluded locations, which made him so hard to catch in the first place.

It was the second unsub that was interesting. He seemed more controlled and calculating, choosing low-risk victims and public locations. The team profiled him as the narcissistic component of the original profile. The more high profile the victims, the more they attracted him.

And now that you’d spent the entire night drawing attention to yourselves, all you had to do was present an easy opportunity for the unsub to pounce — right into the BAU’s trap.

The moment Spencer beckoned you to come closer, you knew something was up. "Listen carefully, love. I'm going to call for the bill, and we're going to go outside. If I'm right about my guess, the unsub is going to be right behind us. Do you understand me?" He whispered into your ear, low and calm.

You made an obvious move to cup his cheek as you leaned back. "Can we go home now, baby?" You cooed. Yeah, you got him.

As you walked out of the restaurant, you intentionally stumbled as you clung onto his arm, letting out a loud giggle. Your gaze fixed adoringly on your date, even as Emily and Hotch called for their bill on your left, Derek and Rossi no doubt already rounding to the front of the restaurant from the back exit.

"Trust me." Spencer murmured as he opened the door for you, and when you nodded, he pulled you into one final kiss for the public. What you didn't expect was for him to move his hand down and squeeze your ass, causing you to let out a loud squeak at the doorway.

If anybody was looking at the two of you before, they were certainly staring now, and the doctor confirmed this with a low whisper. "He's coming."

When he finally caged you against his car, you had to remember not to go overboard for your listening colleagues, but you couldn't help but let out a quiet moan into his mouth as he pushed his leg lightly against your core.

"Sp— Spencer—" You breathed, locking your fingers behind his neck.

"Just hold on a little bit more, love." He muttered, cupping your cheeks with his large hands and stroking your hair. "Just a bit mor—"

You heard the sound of a gun cocking next to you as you broke apart, lightly gasping. A middle-aged man stood in the shadows, waving his gun aggressively. Bingo.

"Get into the car."

The two of you raised your arms warily. "Who are you?" Spencer shouted, moving to shield you from the unsub.

"I said, get into the car!" He yelled. "Starting with you."

"Okay, okay." The doctor conceded, unlocking the car and slowly getting in the backseat. He left some room for you to get in next, but the unsub trained his gun on you.

"Not you, sweetheart. I'm going to finish you right here." He narrowed his eyes at you. "Drop your bag on the ground."

Everything seemed to fall silent as you slowly lowered your bag, and your hidden gun, to the ground. When you stood back up with your hands in the air, the unsub slammed you into the side of the car and you groaned at the sudden impact.

You didn't need to gather your senses to know that his gun was pointed right at you.

"Leave her alone, James." Spencer threatened, already out of the car and levelling his gun at the unsub. All around you, the team moved into the light.

"FBI! James Luther — put the gun down." Hotch ordered.

The unsub looked shocked for a moment as he looked around, finally realising the situation he was in. His expression was unusually calm, and it chilled you to the bone.

"Very, very interesting. Are you a fed too?" He sneered down at you.

"It's over, James. Either you put the gun down, or you don't walk out of here alive." Spencer warned, but the unsub only laughed.

"I should have known that it was too good to be true. It's not often I get such a perfect couple, much less one with a wife this pretty." He drawled, waving the gun in your face.

"Spencer. I'm okay." You ordered through gritted teeth, already knowing what the genius was about to do.

"Look at her, so brave. Are the two of you even married? Or is everything about this fake?"

"I won't say this a second time. Put the gun down." Spencer repeated, cocking his gun straight at the unsub's head.

"T-think about this, James." You reasoned. "If you kill me, they'll kill you, and you won't be able to hear what the press will say about your murders after we expose you. Isn't that what you want? Don't you want to stop living in somebody else's shadow?"

The unsub's grip on his gun slackened. "They're not going to run a story on me. Why would they unless I keep killing?"

"They will if you give us the names and descriptions of all your victims, and we will make sure your face is front and centre for every single one." Spencer added. The unsub looked into both your eyes, seemingly searching for a hint of a lie, but there was none.

"Fine. Looks like the lady lives, this time." He gave up, dropping his gun to the floor and putting both hands on his head.

"James Luther, you are under arrest for the murders of Lucy Patt..." Derek recited his rights while dragging him away. You braced yourself against the car, catching your breath.

"Are you okay?" Spencer rushed over, sweeping you into a hug before you could even reply. You buried your face into his shoulder, tears welling up in your eyes involuntarily as you inhaled the familiar scent of paperbacks and coffee.

"I-I'm okay, baby. I'm okay." You mumbled, not sure if you were reassuring your boyfriend or yourself in that moment.

"It's okay, just let it out. You're safe now. I'm here. You're safe." He repeated, stroking your back as he kissed the top of your head again and again and again until you lost count.

You'd never been so relieved to arrive back at the BAU. Penelope was the first to give the two of you a big hug when you returned, fussing over the small cut on your face and the bruises on your arms, while you reassured her that you'd been cleared by the medics to go home.

"Good work today, both of you." Hotch called out from behind, shooting a small smile at you and Spencer. "Reid, take her home, and take a day off tomorrow. The two of you deserve it."

"You wouldn't be able to drag me into work tomorrow if you tried." You joked, and Spencer chuckled. For the first time, he wasn't about to argue with an order to take a break.

Nor was he about to argue when you asked him to come in to your apartment, or when you asked him to stay the night.

The only thing he wanted after tonight, was you.

---------

Tag List:

@blue-space-porgs @nobutalsoyes @lady-loves-a-lot @queen-flower @agentcarterisgay @totalmess191 @sapphic-prentiss @oops-all-ajs @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @mellowalieneggsknight @kenny-0909 || @averyhotchner @amesandpineapples @willowrose99

[rattlerinthewheel]

Fruit Bat: Scud/Reader

He should know better than to irritate the vampire that’s already pissed, wounded, and starving—so you teach him.

For the Kinky Things Happen bingo square: vampires and discipline, at @pandoratriestowritestuff’s request for some Scud. Credit to them and @phoenixblack89, who talked about Scud getting spanked and choking on a donut, for the respective scenes.

- - -

You’re still pissed at him.

But it’s hard to give him the silent treatment when you need to get at the junk around the tables. Move, pass me that wrench, throw me that wire, is dry and distant, work-related; but turn that shit down, quit spewing crumbs, stop grabbing me, and other growls that aren’t related to the tech you’re fiddling with get read as some sign—to keep doing those things, but that’s sure not what your glares should be saying.

Well, it isn’t a surprise that he’s being a dumbass about it. A moron about a lot of shit, lately, the bandage on your arm can vouch for that. And it was an accident, sure, you wouldn’t usually blame him for aiming that UV flashlight at anything that swarmed at him on a job; but he’d been high and you’d called out a warning, dammit, and he still got you with it. Burned like a motherfucker, like acid.

His apology was huffed, high-sluggish, and rank like the shitty weed he’d been toking.

Maybe he’s realizing you’re really pissed, content with just your hand as company for a few days, because you haven’t taken a break even once from this group project—a net of UV panels you can drape over the van; they stay off for now, obviously—to get your hands down his pants, or his down yours.

But Josh—Scud’s dumb, and it pisses him off to be called Josh, so of course that’s what you call him—is definitely high, not as sharp as he’d otherwise be, and his logic is coming from his dick today. His brain would be screaming at him to not agitate the vampire that’s wounded and pissed.

He’s prodded at you the whole damn night so far, brushing your groin to grab a tool there’s fifteen more of scattered around that he can get to, angling his head in a way that makes the churning veins under too damn tempting, flat-out groping your ass when his first two tactics don’t get him anything more than warning hisses.

Except when he decides he doesn’t like a particular hiss you give, too much teeth for his liking, because when his hand drops from where it’s gotten in a squeeze it claps right back down across the ass cheek it grabbed. Fucking hard, too; "make peace, not war" your ass.

You whirl where he’s scrambling back to his side of the room, giggling, hands raised with his palms out like he can call a truce. Like he hasn’t been doing this shit all night and your hisses and menaced fangs are supposed to be equals, or something.

Well, they aren’t. And you feel like cashing in some payback.

"C’mon, baby, lighten up!" trails his getaway while you give chase. You don’t run after him, but Josh stumbles and darts around like you are. It’s one of the oldest hunting tactics, just following, while the prey tires itself out trying to get away. Vampires don’t need to use it, you could just as easily catch up, even with a bandaged arm.

But Josh wants to goddamn play, so you’ll follow suit. For now.

Smoker’s lungs, stoner’s, don’t let him keep it up as long as a guy his age could. Josh staggers, stumbles a last time like his clothes weigh fifty pounds, and drops on the steps up to another part of the workshop. By his couch and TV, the little nest he’s made for himself, and you don’t think that’s accidental; but you don’t plan to move things to that shitty couch, not anytime soon.

You walk right up to him, and Josh goddamn grins, leaning back on his hands and spreading his legs like he’s offering himself up like a damn meal. He’s still got one of those shitty donuts, and he takes a bite, still grinning, and flicks a crumb at your leg.

"You’re a child," you growl, getting a whiff of syrup lactic acids, probably burning his calves like battery; iron thumped in and out of his heart, jumping in his throat, flushing his face; that damn weed turning everything earthy, chalky like loam, but still good.

"I’m a delight," spews more crumbs with another giggle. "Besides, baby, you love it."

You do—when you aren’t pissed at him. "Love to kick your ass," you huff, toeing the step by his foot.

His hum makes you swallow. Fucking thirsty, you are, and that’s just the worst kind of trifecta for Josh to be near right now: starved, pissed, and wounded. Your nerves are shot, and his chase didn’t tire you, but it sure as shit reminded you of what hunts are supposed to take care of. And his hum, that sounds vaguely like a dying, helpless churr from a punctured throat...

Shit.

But the hum bubbles into a chuckle, as you’re stepping away to beat it and get back to work—so Blade doesn’t have you to stake and Josh to mend, or a drained corpse to bury—when you get a lazy kick to your calf and a teasing, "The little fruit bat running away? Afraid I’ll smack him again?"

You’re starving, agitated, and your arm throbs. It’s not a nickname you hate, but it sets off something.

You stop, turn back slowly, and flick your eyes to either side to make sure you won’t be skewered by stray junk out of place. All clear, so you skulk up, schooling your face into a careful, bland look that puts Josh on edge more than a scowl.

"Ain’t my ass about to get smacked, boy," is throttled with a snap of fangs and a low pounce, and Josh can only drop the fucking donut and yelp as you tackle him.

He gets a bit of ground, because his hand clamps right down on the bandages, making you bark at the bolt of pain. It’s been longer since your last drink than you admitted to Blade, before he left, and that doesn’t help. But Blade would’ve had you come with, otherwise, and you figured dealing with Josh was worth getting the panels for the van closer to field testing.

Because as much as you want to skitter up the wall and drop Josh from the rafters, most days, you don’t want to get back to the van and find a drained, stoner-sized juice box.

So it’s a little ironic that he’s sprawled over your legs, when the scuffle’s over. It’s not what you intended—to pin him to his stomach, straddle, and give a few smacks before letting him go—but you sort yourselves out. First Josh, and you wrap an arm over his waist to keep him down; then yourself, and you sit up properly so his ass is right where you want it.

These days, child rearing isn’t what you were accustomed to, and Josh doesn’t figure it out until he feels your hand settle across the seat of his cargo pants. "No fuckin’ way," is half telling, half laughing, and the weed probably has something to do with that second part.

Because the first part’s not amused, but just in case he doesn’t get it across that he’s not thrilled to be pinned this way, Josh starts trying to buck off your lap.

"Yes fucking way," you hiss, and your hand cracks down over his right cheek.

It’s loud, even for his human hearing, and goes off like a shotgun blast. Josh twists his head back, huffing. The scowl he tries to give doesn’t have the kind of impact he hopes for, when it twitches at the second swat you land, right over the same spot. Harder than the first, because you won’t have him scowling at you, goddamn brat.

"Hope you know how to sleep with one eye open," cracks when you get a handful of flesh, quieter when he hangs his head. The pants are thin, and you feel the warmth from the swats, hell, hear the blood fizz under the surface. "Get you back for this."

You frown, not at the threat, but another rush of blood you hear. Feel, even better, in your lap.

You growl and throw a withering look his way, because fucking seriously? "You gettin’ hardover this?"

You hear the bones grind, Josh gritting his teeth, when you give the spot you’ve hit twice now a slow rub. Christ, he is, and he’s halfway there by the time you’ve rubbed enough circles into the warmed skin that you have to strain to hear the fizzing blood. You should’ve guessed he was into this, not like he doesn’t rile you up to pin or chase him anyway, this even makes sense.

The swipe to his left thigh is sudden, vampire speed but not strength because you aren’t that cruel. Your ears perk at the sound it gets, when the crack settles again, but before you can ask if he’s fine you feel his thigh rise up into your hand. You can’t help but scoff, because Christ’s sake, you weren’t trying to get frisky with him—and that ship’s goddamn sailed, because you’re helping him get hard.

You’re getting hard, too, can’t be a hypocrite about that. Josh feels it, pushing up into his side, and when he twists his head back again he’s flushed and his mouth’s open. His eyes are glazed over, brow’s furrowed, you think, but it’s hard to tell with the mop of hair in the way. Dammit,and you get a handful of his shirt in your striking hand to keep him from toppling over, and unwrap the other to push the hair off his face.

You can hear his sigh just fine, but it thrums into your fingers where you keep them pushed into his scalp, warm, damp from work and running from you. "Done already, baby? Maybe we can switch," buzzes up your arm.

Shit. You aren’t excited for that, because if he’s going to get you back he’s damn well working for it. But you can feel him reacting to you, swamping your senses; a whine when your fingers curl in the bangs before combing out, his hips shimmying when your arm loops over again, the muscles of his hide clenching as you drag down his pants and boxers.

That last one gets a sharp breath that’s followed up with a sharper swat. You suck in a gasp yourself and tighten your arm, giving your hard-on friction to grind off of, as you run your fingertips over the barely-pink skin. Warm, hot, without the fabric, and it fizzles louder like damn fireworks, when you drop your palm over the left cheek.

"Baby? Not getting any, uh, urges? Know I look good ‘nough to eat normally, but—"

"Shut up," you snarl, and then you’re smacking him again.

It’s anger at this bullshit, your injury, your arm throbbing as Josh twitches against the hold you just double down on when you start laying down swats quick and hard. He could’ve killed you, and he was too damn high to realize it, to apologize, still hasn’t.

But it’s some twisted fascination, too, watching the barely-pink go hot pink, white in the beat after a blow before it blooms darker, then red. You hear the blood fizz, pop, and simmer with each shade the flesh darkens to. Ass goes slower than the thighs, more meat to them, and that reminds you that there’s something to grab so you do. Not after every swat, just to give you both a breather, and you groan when you peel your hand off each time and a five-fingered print flares white before reddening again.

"Hope you choke on those damn donuts," you groan, throaty, when you realize your aim goes off because Josh is rutting into your damn lap. "Quit moving, lemme."

He goes rigid when you grab a hot thigh and spread him open, shift him right so his cock isn’t snug against your leg, and start to stroke. Cruelly slow, but it’s not like he’s getting out of this without some discipline. But you wouldn’t exactly mind doing this again, either...

"No one’s dead, then?"

Josh yelps and finally does buck off your lap. You let him, falling in a heap with his pants still down to his knees, because you’re too busy cringing back from the circle of UV light pointed at the floor. On concrete, not too close to the steps, but you’ve had enough of that wicked light as it is.

Blade doesn’t look bothered by Josh’s undressed, red ass, or the wet spot he left on your jeans. Neither of you finished, just pre-cum, but you’re not keeping a nose or ear out to scent or hear if Josh does by accident in the scramble. You’ve got something else on your mind, that wicks away the lust and anger and drags hunger up your throat so fast you’re dizzy.

The IV bag’s tossed to you, torn into and drained in the time it takes Blade to fish out another from his bag. You hear the flashlight go off and pounce out onto concrete to burrow into the second one he gives over, then growl for the third you can smell when he doesn’t offer it.

"There a problem?"

Your growl sputters, and Josh must’ve gotten his pants back up because he draws attention to himself now. "All good, B. Just looking for some shit for the panels."

Blade doesn’t ask what shit required Josh’s nose being two inches from the lowest step, or being over your lap while he looked, but you go deaf to what they do talk about when the third bag’s thrown your way. By the time you finish, wiggling the puncture marks over your yawning mouth to get the last drop, Blade’s gone and Josh’s face wrinkles.

"Oh, now you don’t want to bother me?" you purr, all fangs, your arm hardly aching and your throat good and wet.

"Shit, dude, would table manners kill you?"

You purr louder, a chuckle, as Josh turns away and goes to hide on his couch with his TV. Close to dawn, anyway, and it’s better to have two pairs of hands for the panels. At least that’s what Josh will tell Blade, probably, if he asks why he isn’t working on it in the morning when you’re sleeping. You’re betting on Blade either calling him out, saying a sore ass doesn’t mean a day off, or just letting it slide. He’s not stranger to vampire strength, even if it’s never been applied to his ass.

Well, Josh can tell him all about it, and you wipe the blood off your face, purr throttling in a real laugh, as Josh decides to lay down on his stomach while he fumbles with the TV.

"Gonna get you back," he reminds you.

In the dim, barely-lit room, with just some cartoon to flick pale tones over the dark space, you lurk over and crawl up onto the back of the couch, balancing on your side, so you can lick your fingers clean and run them through his hair. You tune out the shitty TV to hone in on his blood, calming down, still sputtering around his warm ass. It’s white noise you lose yourself in, purring at his swears when he shifts and agitates the flesh.