#any time i need clear pics i load into the burn

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'official' renders

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Long Time Coming

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,664 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, Reader has a few one night stands, Semi-public sex, Unprotected sex, Blow jobs/Face fucking, Hairpulling, Fingering, Praise and degradation, Dirty talk, Accidental reveal of feelings, TW blood/cut Summary: You have been in lust (and love) with Aaron for a while, but his new look sends you off the deep end, and it's enough to make you do some pretty crazy things. *Inspired by @ssamorganhotchner and these three pics. Link to A03 or read below! You are fresh off yet another unsuccessful first date when Aaron wears the new suit. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are standing by the coffee maker, complaining about the pitfalls of online dating and how people are never they way they seem when you actually meet in person; you have the carafe in your hand, filling your mug, and when he walks in, face in a case file, his pants so tight you can make out his hips and thighs as clearly as if he were naked… You kind of lose your shit. And your grip.

The carafe shatters when it hits the tile floor, spraying shards of glass and hot coffee everywhere; Emily gasps, Penelope jumps back to avoid the splatter, JJ runs for a broom, and you just stand there, staring at Aaron—at his tight slacks, at his belt, at his shirt, tucked neatly inside, then at his dangling tie, and finally, his worried face.

“Are you alright?” he asks, because you have literally not moved a muscle since he arrived; your boots are covered in coffee—you are thankful you dressed casually today and aren’t wearing heels, or you’d be in a lot of pain—and your heart is racing, but otherwise you feel frozen, unable to move or look away.

You’ve wanted Aaron for a long time, and everyone knows it but him. It’s part of the reason you’re smothering yourself with online hookups and blind dates and one night stands: because he is off limits, and you’re desperately horny for him, and you need to have him fucked out of your mind one way or another.

The new suit further complicates things.

“Fine,” you say after a few more seconds, and JJ comes back with the broom and dustpan, so you bend down to help her clean up your mess. It wasn’t your brightest idea, because you are now at eye level with the tight crotch of his pants, and all you can think of is working the zipper open, pulling him carefully past the fly, sucking him off until those big hands slip into your hair and tug roughly when he comes.

God. You’re going to have to go on another bad date. Or ten.

“New suit?” Penelope asks conversationally, as if you aren’t having a sexual crisis about it three feet away. “Looks good, boss.” Aaron runs his hand down his body self-consciously, but all you see are thick fingers and stomach and hnnngg…

JJ pinches the back of your arm hard, makes a face that screams get it together!!, and you take a deep breath.

“I took some of my old ones in for alterations and the salesman convinced me they were severely outdated. Do you like this style better?”

For some reason, it feels like he’s looking right at you, and you nod, dreamy-eyed, sweep your tongue over your lips.

“Better,” you rasp, and Emily and Penelope agree, probably to take the emphasis off of your slack mouth and dopey one-word answers. You try to help JJ clean up, picking up the larger pieces of glass and dropping them into the dustpan despite her protests—because you are very unfocused, shouldn’t be messing with sharp objects—and when you cut your finger on a piece, she just sighs. Such a mom.

You wince, and Aaron frowns, comes toward you, putting you not only at dick height, but a manageable dick distance, if you were so inclined; really, it’s more if he were so inclined, because you are actually fully prepared to swallow his load right here in front of your friends—all he’d have to do would be snap his fingers and point to his crotch, and the FBI would be suing you for mental distress and using the money to pay for therapy for Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” he says, snapping you out of your very elaborate fantasy (typically your fantasies don’t involve court costs, but this is Aaron, so anything is possible.) He wraps his hand around your injured finger and pulls you up to standing with the other, and you just follow along as he leads you over to the sink, turns on the tap to let the water run over your cut. The way you’re looking up at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen has to be painfully obvious, but he just reaches over for the first aid kit, takes out a bandage, and wraps it carefully around the tip of your finger. You sigh.

It may have started out as lust, but you’re pretty sure you’re also in love.

You have got to find a way to get him to notice you as more than just an agent, a teammate, a friend, and so: Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ begins. You fill the girls in on your master plan, and they fill in Derek and Spencer just so there are more people to laugh at you when you crash and burn, probably. But you’ve got a plan, will be pulling out all the stops, so you might not fail horribly after all. Hopefully.

God, you absolutely cannot fail. You can’t go out with another software engineer with the personality of a peanut or another investment banker who thinks buying you an appetizer means you owe him a blow job in the front seat of his Tesla. You will go fucking insane.

Today’s plan is T for tits, because yours are pretty awesome and almost no one who is attracted to women can resist them. You wear your usual white button down top, but you leave the top two buttons undone, and you add a red, lacy bra for a little additional temptation.

“Here are those consults you asked for,” you say after knocking lightly on the doorframe; Aaron waves you inside. You set them down on his desk, then glance over the open folder in front of him, make a curious noise. “What are you working on up here?”

You walk around his desk, so you’re standing next to him, and lean forward to look over the case file with one hand on the back of his chair and the other pressed against the desk. If he would look over, he would see right down your top, your breasts high and smushed together thanks to the lacy push up… but he looks straight down at the file, taps his pen against it.

“Murders in Detroit. I don’t think we’ll go—they look like mob hits to me, so I’m going to refer the case to Organized Crime.” You hum, turn the file toward you and lean in a little closer, letting your hair spill over your shoulder, the neck of your blouse fall open. Boobs and perfume are usually a one-two punch that is capable of bringing any man to his knees, and while he does turn to look at you, it feels entirely too respectful for your liking. You sigh softly, give up for today, and turn the file back.

“Well you know best, boss. Any time I don’t have to go to Detroit is alright by me.” You flash him a smile, and he reciprocates, and you head back downstairs for a cup of coffee and maybe a stale shame pastry.

The team looks up at you when you approach, and you shake your head.

“No luck,” you mutter, and Derek laughs, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you’re not very good at flirting. What did you do?” You roll your eyes—your flirting is not the problem, it’s Aaron’s morals and manners or whatever—and walk over to Spencer’s desk, demonstrate with him what you did to Aaron; you put your hand on the back of his chair, toss your hair over your shoulder, lean in, and Spencer swallows hard, licks his lips, and looks abruptly down at his hands. That reaction, you would have gladly taken.

Derek clears his throat, and so does Emily. Hmm.

“I’m good at flirting,” you say, straightening up; Spencer is blushing, and it’s super cute, so you pat him lightly on the head. “Maybe he’s an ass man. I’ll wear a skirt tomorrow and we’ll see if that gets the job done.”

“Good idea,” Derek says, and when you walk past him, he gives you a once over that makes you feel pretty damn good. “In the meantime, why don’t you come and demonstrate on me?”

There’s no denying he is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life, and earlier on in your career you might have taken him up on it—it would have to be better than Marty McTesla, that’s a given—but you know he’s mostly teasing, even if there is a thin layer of actual desire beneath it all. You just fluff your hair and take your seat and mentally flip through your closet to try to come up with an outfit Aaron can’t refuse. You decide on a pencil skirt, because that’s got to be every boss's fantasy, right? You have one you never wear to the office because it’s a little sexy, tight on your hips and ass, with a zipper up the back that you can open a little and use to your advantage. When you walk into the bullpen that morning, JJ whistles, and you grin, do a little twirl.

“Thank you, thank you. This has to work, right?” You turn to face Emily, then turn away from Emily, butt right in her face. “Emily? This will work, right?”

“That’s... definitely going to work,” she murmurs, tapping the cap of her pen against her teeth, and you have to admit you have a good feeling about this one. For as great as breasts are, your ass is your best asset, and if the open top and red bra didn’t work, this has to be your ticket to some sweet, dirty loving, it just has to.

You all head up for the morning meeting, filing into the briefing room, and you give Aaron a soft greeting and a smile just like every day, and then offer to help him pass out whatever stack of papers he’s holding in his hands—fire drills and emergency protocol, or something boring like that. He accepts the help, and you take the fliers, but instead of walking around and handing them to each member of the team like he would, you bend over the table, reach across, and drop the pages in front of everyone.

JJ is the furthest away, and you practically have to climb onto the table to reach her; you grin and wink when she takes the papers out of your hand, and she shakes her head like you’re too much, but when you stand back up to hand Aaron the extras, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested.

He thanks you for your help, and you take your seat and listen to him go on about emergency exits and fire extinguishers and seriously start to contemplate moving to Europe to start a new life, or something else equally dramatic.

Because you don’t give up easily, you orchestrate one more attempt to get him to show some interest in you. You know he usually goes downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch, and that the elevator is a jam-packed nightmare because the main stairwell is currently under construction (which is probably why you needed to go over safety protocol, now that you think about it; shutting down the stairwell seems very unsafe.) You usually pack your lunch, but you can go buy an overpriced salad for the sake of your sex drive, so you wait for the elevator when he does, making small talk about your mornings until it dings and arrives on your floor.

He tries to let you in first, gentleman that he is, but that won’t work with your plan, so you insist, earning eye rolls from the other passengers on the elevator. You give Amy from Forensic Accounting a dirty look and then step in after him, lean back against him because there’s really no fucking room to even take a breath.

He’s taller than you, but with heels on your ass still fits pretty nicely against his thighs; a little too nicely, you think, as you get wet just from standing near him in the elevator, the heat of his body through your skirt. You really are a mess.

There are two more floors to go before the cafeteria, and no one gets off, but more people manage to cram into the elevator, which means you press more tightly against him to make room. Someone bumps into you roughly, which makes you unsteady on your feet; Aaron puts his hands low on your hips to keep you from wobbling, and your eyes literally roll back in your head, but he just leans in to mutter, “sorry” into your ear. You say nothing, because you’d probably moan if you opened your mouth, but you shake your head so he knows it’s not a problem.

When everyone gets off downstairs, you hurry to the restroom and don’t look back, turn on the faucet and splash some cold water against your overheated neck and chest. So much for that plan. All you managed to do was work yourself up into a fury.

While you’re in line to pay for your overpriced salad, you open up your dating app and secure yourself drinks with a hot lawyer for tonight. Seduction is clearly not working with Aaron, he’s clearly not interested, and you have to find a way to move on before you have a spontaneous workplace orgasm and get fired from the job you love—all of his tight new suits have been dark so far, but if he shows up in gray, you’re not going to have the will to survive anymore. You have to plan for the worst.

The lawyer is nice enough, but he’s too short, too thin; it’s hard to imagine Aaron’s body weight on top of you when he’s fucking you, but you’re nothing if not resourceful, so you move your hands to his head of thick, dark hair and focus on that—that, and his hot breath against your throat when he comes a little too soon and mutters “sorry” into your ear.

“It’s okay,” you pant, reaching between you to rub your clit. You close your eyes, tip your head back, clench around him; you imagine it’s Aaron inside you instead, and bury your face in his shoulder when you come.

He’s willing to stay, but you explain why it’s better if he leaves, and then you fall back into bed, fumble for your vibrator, and get off again so you’re not too distracted by reality to really enjoy your fantasy.

It’s a little twisted, but it is what it is. You’re standing in the breakroom a few days later, swiping through the dating app and bullshitting with Derek and Penelope, when this guy pops up on your screen. He’s not your usual type, younger and blonder than you prefer these days, a pilot, but something about his profile makes you pause; when it hits you, you blow out a breath and look up at your friends.

“So you guys know Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ is officially dead in the water,” you begin, and they nod, “and now I’m focusing my energy on trying to get over him. I went on a date with a guy that kind of looked like him, and that didn’t really help, but what if…” You turn your screen to face them; Derek nods like it might be crazy enough to work, but Penelope grimaces.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to work. It might actually be crossing a line,” she says with a frown, and you look to Derek for his input.

“It’s more of a coincidence than anything, right? It’s not like he’s unattractive and this is the only reason you’re going out with him. He’s a good looking guy,” he admits, and you’re really grateful he’s willing to help you rationalize this probably terrible idea into a potentially decent idea.

You send the pilot a message, and he wants to meet up; he suggests a bar near the both of you, and you know it’s risky, but you tell him you happen to make a great gin and tonic and that you have everything you need at home, if he’d like to meet you there instead.

He does, and you don’t even make him that drink, just take off his clothes, get him into your bed.

“That’s right, babe—wanna hear you lose it for me. Say my name, gorgeous,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you from behind, and you close your eyes, fist your hands in the sheets, and give him what he wants.

“Oh, fuck, Aaron. Fuck me harder.” His thrusts are already rough and punishing, but this is the best you’ve felt in a really long time, so you’re eager, desperate for more. “Yeah, Aaron, just like that.”

“Tell me my big cock feels so good in your pussy.” He slaps your ass, and you moan involuntarily, press back against him, panting.

“Your big cock feels so good, Aaron, so good in my pussy. Fuck me, Aaron, destroy me.” He grunts, tenses, and moves his hands to your shoulders, slamming your body tight against his as he comes. “Yes, don’t stop, Aaron, don’t stop,” you plead, hips working together, and when he smacks your ass again you come gasping his name, collapsing against the bed with a breathless sigh.

You feel a lot dirtier than you expected you would, even though it was kind of awesome, and ultimately Penelope was right; it was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t do a damn thing to help you forget about the only Aaron you actually want in your bed. Monday morning, Aaron comes into the office wearing a tight navy suit with a striped white shirt and a navy tie, and you follow him with your eyes from the glass double doors all the way up to his office, mouth open a little. Your eyes get heavy and your breathing picks up, which is the dumbest biological reaction to a man’s ass you’ve ever had—but god, it’s a perfect ass—and JJ has to actually lightly slap your cheek to get you to snap the fuck out of it.

“Are you horny right now?” she asks, a little grossed out. “I can’t handle you.”

“I know you guys all call him a tightass, but I mean, if the pants fit… and god, do they fit.” You pick up a case file and fan yourself with it. “He’s so fucking hot. What am I supposed to do? Getting railed by fake Aaron didn’t do shit; I think I might actually have to transfer.”

“You’re not transferring. You just have to get over it.”

“Are you kidding? She’s like a cat in heat when he’s around,” Derek says with a smirk. “I think I’m getting horny just because she’s horny.”

“Okay, so why can’t I have that effect on him?” you ask with your arms open. “Do you think it’s the pheromones? Maybe they’re incompatible. Smell me—does it turn you on?” you ask Spencer, presenting your neck, and he looks like a deer in the headlights, then leans in to sniff you.

“Uh… you smell nice?” he says with a shrug and a half smile. “I think it’s just your perfume, though.”

“Put your face near her boobs,” Derek says, and Spencer starts to lean in again. “I think the pheromones are stronger there.” He pauses about halfway to your chest.

“Actually, they’re stronger near the genitals, but I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“What’s going on down there?” You freeze and then turn to look up at Aaron’s office, where he leans against the doorframe; Spencer stands up comically fast, and you take a step back, clearing your throat. Aaron’s scowling—it’s really sexy and it’s making your heart beat in your stupid, traitor pussy—and then he sighs visibly. “We have a case, come on.”

The case is only a half hour away, so you drive, which is horrible, because you are with Aaron and Derek, and Derek lets you sit in the front just to watch you squirm.

It gets bad before you even pull out of the parking garage, because Aaron puts his hand on the back of your headrest to look behind him and reverse the SUV, and you look over at his body—his stomach, his lap, his thighs—and then quickly face forward when he puts the car into drive. You’re flushed, breathing heavily, and when he looks you over quizzically, asks if you’re alright, you just clear your throat and nod.

“Allergies,” Derek supplies from the back, and you mentally thank him for the save, but you kind of also want to smack him for putting you in this position in the first place.

You’re practically turned on the entire ride, even as you go over the details of the case, because his legs are spread and your eyes keep moving to his crotch; at one point, you think you notice his already unfairly tight pants getting a little tighter, but it’s just a trick of light.

By the time you arrive at the precinct, you are more than ready for fresh air, to put some distance between yourself and Aaron. You’re out of the car almost as soon as he turns off the engine, which probably looks weird as hell, but for your sanity you can’t give it too much thought.

The head detective and a junior detective give you a run down on the case while the other half of your team meets with officers at the crime scene. The head detective, a tall, handsome man in his forties, is looking at you like you’re a juicy steak and he hasn’t eaten in months; Derek notices, turns to you with a raised eyebrow and mouths ‘pheromones,’ Aaron is clearly unhappy about the detective’s lack of professionalism, and you couldn’t really care less about the attention. You just want to do your job and go home and touch yourself to thoughts of your boss… as one does.

The local police already have a board made up, so the three of you travel to speak with some witnesses, head back to the precinct, work the tip lines. Aaron seems to be looking at you more than usual, and when you get up to stretch your legs, he’s right behind you, following you out into the hall.

“Are you sure you're alright today?” he asks with a serious expression, hands on his hips. Your mouth waters. “You’ve been acting a little strange.”

“Stranger than normal?” You try to smile, to lighten the mood, but as oblivious as he’s been about everything else, he’s always been able to tell when you try to hide your emotions with humor.

“The last couple weeks? Yes.” He moves a little closer, and you try your best not to let it affect you—or at least not to let it show when it does. “You know by now that you can come to me anytime, for anything.” He doesn’t present it as a question, but it’s clear on his face that he’s looking for an answer.

“I know. I’m going through something… stupid,” you say with a shrug. “Something I should be able to handle, but it’s harder than I imagined.” He frowns, flicks his eyes over your face.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t; trust me, you can’t,” you say, pleading with your voice, begging him to drop it. “I’ll get through it.” You shut your eyes briefly, exhale, and he reaches down to take one of your hands in his.

“Are you in trouble?” This is the most intimately he’s ever touched you, and it’s not just your body that sings; you know you’re in love with him, have been for a while, but focusing on the horny feelings is easier. It makes it feel like you have less to lose.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just need some time. Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, and then Derek pokes his head into the hall behind him.

“We got a tip about the unsub barricading a house downtown; the detective is mobilizing SWAT,” he says; when he glances down at your hands, you pull yours softly out of Aaron’s grasp.

“What do you want us to do, boss?” you ask, effectively ending your conversation, and he tells you to get suited up with comms and Kevlar so the three of you can head to the new scene. Aaron is, unsurprisingly, a complete badass, storming the house along with SWAT, you at his side; it’s his way of reminding you that he trusts you, that it can and should go both ways—he is so perfectly predictable, reassuring with gestures over words even in a situation like this one. It does nothing to help you stop wanting him.

He’s a little rough with the unsub (and that doesn’t help either,) looks ruffled and kind of pissed when you climb in the SUV to head back to the precinct. Spencer, JJ, and Emily meet you there, and you take the opportunity to vent about how indescribably good Aaron has looked all day—Spencer bows out of the conversation early, but JJ and Emily are kind enough to listen to your insane, horny ramblings.

“He’s just so hot—he always has been, but the new suits? They’re so tight, and his shirts show off his tummy, and his pants show off his thighs… You guys will never understand the things I want to do to him.”

“Okay, he’s handsome enough, but you’re nasty about it—I can’t handle you,” JJ says, not for the first time. You groan in response.

“How can you say that? Have you fucking seen him? I’m not supposed to think nasty thoughts when he walks around looking like that?”

You feel yourself getting a little out of hand, and Emily and JJ look like they’re trying to shut you up, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like the floodgates have opened.

“He’s never going to know what I want to do to him… what I want him to do to me. I tried so hard, and he didn’t even look at me. All I wanted to do was get on my knees for him and grab his ass so he could fuck my throat as hard as fucking possible—is that so much to ask for?” You pause, but neither of them say anything, just look scandalized. “I guess I’m going to have to name my vibrator Hotch now, since that’s clearly the closest I’ll ever get to him giving me an orgasm.”

“Do you really mean that?”

You jump a fucking foot, spin around, almost knocking Emily and JJ over in the process; Aaron is in front of you, his brow furrowed, arms crossed over his vest (he hasn’t taken that thing off yet? You threw yours on the table like the minute you got back), and your mouth opens and your eyes close at the same time.

Oh fucking fuck.

“We’re gonna… go,” Emily says awkwardly, and you open your eyes abruptly when Aaron speaks again.

“No, we’re going to go; come with me,” he tells you, and he turns and heads down the hall; you look back at Emily and JJ, swallow hard, and follow him, your heart beating fast.

He steps into a small room with a copy machine, table, shelves of paper and envelopes and other supplies, and closes the door behind you, engages the lock. You are torn between being very worried he’s going to fire you and super turned on, because this is definitely a fantasy you’ve had before.

“Aaron,” you begin, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry. I think it was the adrenaline; it makes me run my mouth and I can’t stop it, you know that.” He’s facing away from you, his hands on his hips again, and you can see the way his body moves when he sighs.

“Did you mean it, though?” When he turns to look at you, he doesn’t look angry, he looks… nervous. “Do you want me?” His reaction is unexpected—not great, but not necessarily bad—and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah. So fucking bad. And I’m sorry—” That’s as far into your apology as you get before his mouth is on yours, his hands on your face, lips pressing against you for a rough, eager kiss. Your hands move to his waist, pulling him closer by the vest, and he lifts you up onto the table, tugs down the v-neck of your t-shirt, mouths at your throat.

“You think I didn’t look at you?” he says when he pulls away for a breath, tipping your chin down so you’ll look into his eyes. “You think I didn’t see that lacy red bra, your perfect ass bent over in the tight skirt? You think I didn’t feel it pressed against me in the elevator, that I didn’t want to push that skirt up and sink inside you and take you there in front of everyone?”

You moan, chest heaving, twist your fingers in his hair and pull him in for another kiss, dripping and trembling at his admission.

“I would have let you,” you murmur against his lips, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you would have, if that’s what he’d wanted. “I would let you do anything: not just let you, but I’d want it, beg for it. I meant what I said—I’d get on my knees for you, anytime, anywhere, do whatever you want me to do. I want to be yours.”

He catches your mouth in another rough kiss, then puts his hands on your waist, guides you off the table, and flips open his belt, the fly of his pants.

“Oh god. What are you doing?” you ask, and he slides down his zipper, pulls you with him until his back hits the door.

“I’m giving you what you asked for,” he rasps, staring into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. It’s so fucking hot your pussy clenches.

You lick your lips, drop to your knees on the tile floor so hard it hurts, tug his pants open and pull out his thick, hard, veiny cock.

Your dreams and fantasies did not do it justice.

“Fuck. Thank you,” you mumble, looking up at him, and he wraps his hands in your hair, pulls tightly. You moan just from that and the heft of him in your hand. “Thank you.”

“Shh.” He scrapes his fingers over your scalp, hums as you start stroking him, licking the head. “Don’t thank me—I should be thanking you, beautiful, perfect girl. In what world do I get this?” There are lots of things you want to say to that, but you’ve waited long enough, will have to say them later.

You lick your lips, collect lots of saliva, and take him into your mouth, get your hands on his ass and dig your nails in. Aaron groans, tightens his fingers in your hair, and when you look up at him it feels like a fever dream, like it’s not real but a delicious figment of your imagination.

For a minute or two, you stroke him with a tight, wet mouth, and it’s got you aching between your legs, but he’s supposed to be fucking your throat, technically, if he’s giving you what you asked for. You pull off, tell him that, and he tugs your head back roughly, guides you back onto his cock and starts thrusting into your mouth, earning vibrating moans around it.

“God, you’re so perfect. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you touched yourself to the thought of me fucking your pretty face?” He picks up the pace, pushes deeper when he sees you can handle it, and you squeeze his ass, feel your eyelids flutter as he uses your mouth, pulls your hair. “Are you a whore for me?” he grinds out, and the moan that rips from your throat is inhuman, embarrassing, and absolutely accurate. “Yes you are, baby, yes you are. My pretty whore, on your knees, mouth stretched wide and filled with cock.”

You’ve never been so turned on from a blow job, but this is Aaron, hot and dirty and forceful, everything you imagined and more. You squeeze him tighter, encourage rougher treatment, and he presses his hands against the back for your head, slams his dick in so deep it aches; you don’t gag, but it’s a near thing, and when he pulls you off you gasp for breath and whimper at the loss at the same time.

“Enough of that, baby. You were perfect, so good for me, almost choking on my cock, but I bet your pussy is wet and aching. Do you want me inside it?”

“Holy—yes, fuck, please. Please,” you breathe, and he helps you to your feet and then pushes you against the door, gets your pants down. His rough treatment has you whining, gripping the hair on the back of his head, and you kick off your boots and socks so you can step out of your pants completely. “Keep all this on,” you tell him, pants and shirt and tie and Kevlar vest and all, and he nods, kisses you deeply, presses two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans when you receive him easily, soft and wet and open, and he uses his free hand to sweep down your top, slipping the buttons loose so he can get a better view of your tits and black lace bra that’s holding them. “So beautiful, and finally mine,” he mutters against your throat, and you whine, let your head fall back against the door, and give in to the pleasure of his thick fingers moving inside you.

“Finally mine,” you murmur, tugging his hair, slamming down against his hand, and when you come it’s like a miracle; you cry out, clamp down, and wrap your free hand around his bicep and squeeze until you’re lightheaded, dazed, desperate for another.

You kiss, deep and passionate and filthy, and Aaron slides his fingers into your mouth, pumps them a few times, then kisses you again.

“Good girl. Are you ready for my cock now?” You pant, gasp, and nod your head, and he pushes your shirt off your shoulders, lifts your legs so you’ll wrap them around his waist, and pushes inside you. You both moan, kiss, moan again, and then you wrap your arms around his broad back, hook your fingers in his vest, and hold on while he pounds your body roughly against the door.

“Oh, Aaron, fuck. Yeah. Want you to slam your body against mine; want to feel it, want to feel all of you.” He looks into your eyes, breathing hard, fucks up into you, hands on your ass, his hips and torso pinning you in place.

“Sweet, pretty, slutty girl,” he pants, spreading you open and shoving himself inside your pussy. “You tried tempting me, and oh, did it work. I might not have shown it…” He ducks in to kiss the base of your throat and you cling tighter, rock against his hips. “But it worked. You dressed like a whore just for me, just so I’d notice you; do you I know went home and stroked my cock and came with your name on my lips?”

“Holy shit. That’s so hot.” You move a hand to his hair again, can’t not thread your fingers there now that it’s allowed. “Could have fucked me like this then. Could have come in my pussy, not your hand.”

“We’ll make up for lost time,” he promises, and he thrusts up with his whole body, so you can feel it pressed against yours—shoulders, chest, stomach, all the very best parts of him. “I’m not too much for you? Can you take it?”

“Perfect for me,” you gasp, holding tightly to his vest at his shoulder and his shirt at his hip, bouncing into his thrusts. “So perfect, want you. I can take it. I can take it, Aaron.” Your mouths meet for a messy, hot kiss, lots of tongue, and you groan. “Give it to me, give it all to me.”

He bends his knees a little more, fucks you so rough and hard your mouth falls open and all you can do is whimper, clutch him, gracelessly kiss back when he presses his lips to yours.

He comes first, holds tightly to your hip and pumps inside you, fills you and then some, so it drips out while he’s still inside. It feels sinful, even after everything, and with a few rough drags of his palm over your lace covered nipple, you tighten and grip him and gasp out his name.

You both slow, and then he turns you, leans back against the door for a little relief after holding you up for so long. He nuzzles into your hair, and you bury your face in his neck, and you kiss soft and sweet until you’re feeling stable enough to hop out of his arms and put your clothes back on. He rights his as well, and when you’re both put together he wraps you up in a hug, kisses you, holds you with soft hands on your cheeks.

“I really have waited so long for this.” He brushes his lips over yours, and you sigh. “You never indicated… I was trying to be professional. Then out of nowhere you were leaning over my desk and bending over the table, and I was a little blown away.” You nod, can see that, pull him down for a kiss.

“It’s the goddamn suits,” you say with a half smile, and he gives you a curious look. “Your new, better fitting suits? They fit you so fucking well it’s almost illegal; I’m thinking of pursuing charges against your tailor for reckless endangerment on behalf of my libido, and the coffee carafe, and my poor, worn out vibrator.” He chuckles, hugs you closer, squeezes you so tightly against his body you almost pass out from all the good things you feel.

“Maybe we can strike a deal,” he murmurs, pushing your hair back behind your ear, and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll think of something you can do to make it worth my while.” After a little more hugging and kissing, the two of you figure it’s time to emerge from the supply closet; you don’t see your team anywhere, which surprises you, but when you get to your phone and pull up your texts, it all makes sense.

Derek: Congrats on the sex. The four of us headed home because no one wants to ride with the two of you and your pheromones.

Emily: Yay, you did it!! Drinks on me next time we go out!

JJ: You guys are loud; don’t make a habit of that.

Penelope: I hear congrats are in order! And by hear, I don’t mean hear. There’s NOT an audio clip or anything, so don’t worry about that!!

Spencer: Emily took an audio clip. Is it normal for girls to enjoy being called a whore? You don’t have to answer that.

You take a very deep breath, give him the gist of the messages—you’re on your own, they heard at least part of it, there is some potentially damning evidence that needs to be destroyed—and you leave the precinct to head home in a better mood than you’ve been in in a very long time.

Aaron takes you out for a late dinner, and he spends the night at your place, falls asleep warm and solid and very naked in the middle of your bed.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[physicalturian]

[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 1

Summary : Being overwhelmed with work is exhausting. To release some of that stress, you make your way on a website to talk to strangers. One of them strike your interest and while the conversation flows you find yourself being dommed online. An unusual occurrence you might get a liking to. The thrill of letting someone take the control when too much weight is on your shoulders, no strings attached. Unless...

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 5034 Archive of our own

Warning : Consensual BDSM / Masturbation / Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Cybersex / Stranger / Vaginal fingering... If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

. . . . .

Boredom makes you do crazy things. Lack of free time too, mix them together and you end up stumbling on a website, talking to strangers from all across the world.

 With my work done, it was already pretty late, but I deserved some distraction for working so hard. I did not really care how late it was, I wanted to relax and have some fun, no matter the kind of fun.

Arriving on the home page, I stared at it “Clean chat or NSFW chat? Well…” I mumbled to myself, clicking on the NSFW tab, I had to find a name now. It had to be explicit enough so that the person would know what I want right? Yeah, but what do I want? Huffing, I typed down “Entertain me” Before entering and getting matched with a random person.

 They did not stay long, and their names were surprising to say the least. It took me a lot of time to match with someone that did not have a weird name, and did not leave the minute they got matched with me. I almost gave up too. Now, I was not one to kink shame, but neither was I into anthro dogs and role playing as people’s daughter.

 But funny enough, when they had a slightly normal name. They’d be the most boring person ever, I had to laugh every time people who had “dom” in their name, were the least charismatic people I’d ever met. I had to give it a thought and wonder, were they dom or did they just top their whole life?

 Huffing, I pressed the escape key on my keyboard once more to refresh the conversation and leaned back on my pillows. “At this point, I should just go to sleep.” I pondered out loud, my eyes riveted on the loading screen. I had probably skipped everybody on this website, and now they couldn’t give me anything. When I was about to leave, I was matched with someone named “A real doctor”.

 I couldn’t help the chuckled that escaped my lips as I leaned forward and wrote down.

 Entertain me: Now, are you really a doctor? Or do you want to get people to be horny over you?

Entertain me: ah, wait, also, how old are you? I’m 23, she/her.

A real doctor: There is no reason for me to lie, I don’t even need to tell them I’m a doctor to have them horny. People are always horny on this website.

A real doctor: 29, he/him. How long have you been looking to be entertained?

 Laughing I shook my head, I was surprised to meet someone who was 29 when most people I’d met until now were 18 or 19. I skipped them too. But I was definitely relieved, and it showed in my reply.

 Entertain me: thank god you’re 29, I was afraid I was going to catch a case! So many young people here, it’s frightening.

A real doctor: Are you telling me I’m old?

Entertain me: no no no, definitely not, no you’re the perfect age don’t worry. But since you’re asking so kindly, I’ve been here for about two hours and I have not had a single one good conversation.

A real doctor: Good, then I’m here to change that. What kind of entertainment are you looking for?

 I stared at my screen for a second, for some reason I was starting to feel excited. His question was a good one, and valid one too, and now I had to give him an adequate answer. Running my hands over my face, I was going to type back when he sent something.

 A real doctor: I guess, since we’re both on the NSFW chat the question is: what are your kinks? Your limits, perhaps?

 I don’t know why I answered so quickly, but my fingers did the talking.

 Entertain me: Hey maybe I should ask you that, maybe I want to dom you. How about that? You’d be surprised with how versatile I am.

A real doctor: You’re cute, but I don’t recall mentioning domming. Quite the lapsus you did there, I want to play a game with you but to do so you’ll have to tell me your kinks and your limits, dear.

 Why did I blush? A stranger called me dear, and I was feeling funny inside. For the first time tonight, someone was taking the reins and I kind of enjoyed it a lot. With my hands shaking slightly in excitment, I typed,

 Entertain me: I suppose you make a fair point…

A real doctor: Of course, I do, now do tell me.

Entertain me: right away, sir.

 I said half-jokingly, but that did not go through with the text. If anything, it fueled a certain fire, and perhaps I’ll admit I was testing the waters.

 A real doctor: Already catching on I see, good girl.

 Why was that so hot? My breath hitched and I simply looked at those words a few seconds, taking them in. Sighing, I leaned towards the left and open the drawer of my bed table, grabbing my toy. What am I doing… I thought. Putting the vibrator next to me, I took my time to reply.

 Entertain me: first of all, that’s kind of hot and you are definitely entertaining me.

A real doctor: I barely started, good to know you’re already hooked.

Entertain me: oh fuck off, it’s just the charisma. You got the pzazz, that’s all.

A real doctor: Check the attitude, and give me an answer.

 Gulping, I typed back, weighing my words this time.

 Entertain me: Well, avoid degradation because that’s not my cup of tea but… I suppose, while some of those might be hard through a screen… Body worship is cool, very cool… The entire idea of BDSM is lovely, I like praising, spanking, public stuff has some appeal and…

 I didn’t write the last one, feeling like it was too much. Should I say that? It sounds to fucking submissive. Which is my role right now, clearly, so I should just go for it. Sighing, I read his message and groaned, writing back.

 A real doctor: Go ahead. And? I want clear answers and you’re not done yet.

Entertain me: I like to please my partner, is that a kink?

A real doctor: A service sub? How cute. I’ll definitely make good use of that. Any limits?

Entertain me: I’m never showing my face, but pics are okay. I mean, if you’d like some of course. Consent and all that. I’m willing to try other stuff if we take things slow, too!

 Oh god, that sounded desperate. I don’t even know what he looks like and I’m telling him all of my deepest tastes. “Well, that’s the idea, right? I’ll never meet him, but I can have some fun, right? It’s all about having some fun, both of us. We both get off, and then never talk again.” I whispered to myself, looking up at the time. Noticing it was already 2 am, I was going to leave but I couldn’t find the strength to do so and waited for the man’s reply.

 A real doctor: Very well, I love the eagerness. I’ll be taking notes of those, now you’re curious about the game, aren’t you?

Entertain me: Don’t flatter yourself, if it’s some weird shit I’ll just leave. It really all depends on what’s your game. And please, don’t tell me it’s truth or dare.

A real doctor: Give me some credits, I’m not a teenage boy.

A real doctor: You’ll like it.

A real doctor: The game is this, I tell you what to do, and you do it.

Entertain me: okay…

A real doctor: Interested?

Entertain me: I’ll need more details, but I haven’t left, have I?

A real doctor: You haven’t indeed. Good girl, see you want to be ordered around. It’ll be my pleasure.

A real doctor: Your hands off your keyboard, I’ll be guiding you. All you’ll have to do, is read me. Is that alright?

 I took in his words for a moment. Was I really going to let him tell me what to do? My own voice resonated in my head, telling him that was the fun of it, it was hot. It was exciting, and different, nothing bad could happen.

 Entertain me: Would it be interesting to tell you I have a vibrator next to me right now, sir?

 I facepalmed behind my screen, maybe that wasn’t his shit. Maybe he just wanted me to finger myself or something, maybe I fucked it all up and now I was going to go to bed horny and sad. My self-depreciation dissipated when I saw his reply.

 A real doctor: It’s interesting, speeds?

Entertain me: Five, sir.

A real doctor: Hands off the keyboard, lay on your back, let’s start.

 And I did. With the laptop right next to me, I laid on back and waited for his words, following each of his instruction. Each in a separate message, fired like bullets.

 If you’re dressed, I want you to get completely naked. Undress slowly. Feel yourself. Your hands caressing each of your curves. Brushing over your breasts. Stop there. Pinch your nipples, hard and tug. Feel the sting. The warmth that follows. Spread your legs wide. Let one hand travel between them. Slowly start playing with yourself. Your fingers slowly spreading your folds. Rubbing yourself for me. You’re enjoying this, you like being ordered around. You want to be played with, you’re doing exactly as I’m telling you, like a good girl.

 I arched my back, a hand still on my breast while brushing my finger against my clit. I was burning up, my head digging inside the pillow, it felt strange. He was not wrong, and I could feel my arousing growing and growing.

 A real doctor: Want to continue? Are we still good, dear?

 Groaning I turned on the side and wrote with one hand.

 Entertain me: yes, sir.

A real doctor: Good. Back on your back, take your toy.

 Grabbing it, I waited for the next instruction, my hand having left my clit. It was pulsing, I never thought this would have so much effect but I was starting to get angsty.

 Brush it between your folds. Slowly. Get it wet for me. Good, like that. Keep at it a while. Your free hand, I want it caressing your body. Feel every sensation. Feel every touch, every brush.

 I let out a huff and wrote him, while still brushing the tip of my toy between my folds. I was starting to breathe heavily, feeling needy.

 Entertain me: it’s cold here, goosebumps.

A real doctor: Imagine my warm hands traveling your body.

Entertain me: fuck, can I fuck myself? Please sir

A real doctor: Already? No, no. Not just yet, let’s take our time.

 Groaning, I let my head hit the pillow and considered turning on the vibrator but thought against it. He had not told me to yet, I should wait, make it more fun. But fuck, I needed it.

 Let’s start slowly. You asked nicely, like a good girl. And since you’ve been listening until now… Put it in, speed one. But don’t fuck yourself. Leave it there. Legs spread wide. Now that your hands are free, bring them back to your chest. Give yourself firm, hard, gropes. Feel the vibrations inside you. Slide your hands down your torso, to your belly and gently brush your hands on your inner thighs. Feel the texture, your cold fingers on your burning skin. I want you to rub your clit, take a deep breath and start playing with it. Feel the electricity coursing.

 See yourself, enjoying the idea of being commanded. Look at yourself, look down at your hands. See yourself masturbating for me. Feel your toy stretching you, filling you up. Now start pumping in and out. But not too hard. That’s it, good girl. Slowly, very slowly. It’s painfully slow, isn’t it? Keep doing good, and we’ll speed things up.

 I whined and brought a hand to my mouth, muffling the noises escaping it. My roommates were probably sleeping, I had to keep it quiet. I hate how slow paced it was, but I loved how thrilling it was to do this. I bucked my hips to try to meet the toy as I pulled it out to pull it back in, slowly.

 Look at you. Shoving a dildo inside you. Just because I told you so. I blushed and let out a whimper. You’re actually enjoying yourself. You are being entertained, just as you asked. I can almost see the smile on your face. Tell me, is my good girl desperate yet?

 Bringing my hands to my hair, I got the wild strands of hair out of my face and wrote back. My face was on fire, but no one would know. What happened here was between this stranger and I, no one would know how I was being guided to fuck myself by a total stranger.

 Entertain me: sir… can I up the speed?

A real doctor: Very cute, you haven’t answered, dear.

Entertain me: please…

Entertain me: sir.

A real doctor: Alright, dear. You can put it at 2.

A real doctor: But you stop the thrusting, I want you to keep it deep inside you. Close your legs and feel the vibrations, when you think you’re close, you stop. Understood?

Entertain me: yes sir!!

A real doctor: How eager, lovely. Hands off now.

 Huffing, I did as he asked and upped the speed. A giggle escaped my lips before my breath caught in my throat and I could feel everything strongly, with how deep it was. I closed my eyes for a moment, missing some of the messages but opened them again, and read everything while feeling the sensations inside me.

 Angle it right. That’s right. Turn the speed one notch now. It should be at three, if you’ve been following right. See your face, you’re enjoying this. How cute, I can only imagine the sinful sounds leaving that pretty mouth of yours. It can probably do a lot more than moan. It can whimper. As it’s being fucked. As you’re being fucked. Bring your fingers inside your mouth and suck on it. That’s it, suck it. Push the toy deeper inside you. You can speed up the pace. Not too wild.

 “Fuck” I breathed out, my fingers hooked in my mouth as I met each of thrusts. I wanted to go faster, I wanted to do as I pleased and find a quick relief. I knew myself; I knew what to do but there was this thrill in giving the control to this stranger. My walls were clenched around the toy, I could feel it against my walls even more at each thrust. I desperately grabbed my blanket, almost making my laptop tumble off my bed and muffled my voice while biting down the fabric.

 I was surprised when a whine came out of my mouth, I put my hand over my muffled mouth to, hopefully, muffle it better.

 A real doctor: You’ve been good. Such a good girl, haven’t you?

 I sighed and leaned on my side, typing very slowly. My thrusts, slowing down as my focus was on the conversation.

 Entertain me: Yes sir, I’m so good

A real doctor: Good. Then I want you to grab the base of your toy and…

A real doctor: Fuck your brains out, go wild. While you’re at it, speed at 4.

 My arms were screaming for me to stop, it had been so long. But I felt the knot in my stomach grow in excitement and did exactly as he had asked. The pleasure was so good, it was so good. I had been waiting for this since we had started. One hand was gripping the base of the vibrator tight, while the other was rubbing my clit. My eyes rolled back a few times when it touched the right spot, but then I had to thrust more and lost it. I hated it but at the same time, I loved the mix of pain and pleasure of the fast and deep thrusts.

 Here we go. Hard, and fast. I want you to go wild. Let yourself go. Fuck your hole good. Groan, squirm, moan, plead for more. I’m sure you’re sore, but you’re doing so great. Such a good girl, doing exactly as you’re told. Keep going, don’t stop. Feel your toy stretching you out. You’re so wet, you can probably hear it, right? God, such a good girl. Spread your legs wide and keep going, good. Good. Now, read well, dear.

 I want you to go to the last speed, and keep your toy deep like last time. Don’t move it. Cross your legs and keep it there. I’ll count to 20, you’ll keep it there until I’m done. Are we good? Don’t answer, just follow my instruction. Come on, last speed. And here we go. That’s it dear. Good. Let’s start.

 Then he started sending a message for each number starting from 1. I watched the screen with half-lidded eyes, feeling the toy vibrating inside me, my hand starting to go numb from the said vibrations. My thighs were a bit sore, but I ignored it and moved the toy slightly to angle it only to find the right spot, I closed my eyes and focused on the sensation, only peeking to see the count was at 13. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My thighs were closed around my hand so hard, it hurt a bit but I was getting close.

 That’s it, what a view. Fucked out, exhausted. But you’re not done yet. Pick up the pace now, thrust and shove, hold it there. And again. And again. Hit that sweet spot. That’s it. Good girl, so obedient. Feel the soreness between your legs. Feel your clit throbbing. Feel yourself getting closer. Just from being told what to do? Pay attention to the throbbing. Fuck yourself hard a minute again. Then keep it there. That’s it, yes. I’m sure you must be quite the sight. I want you to be noisy. To be loud. Get wild. Buck your hips against the toy. That’s it. So obedient.

 My legs tensed the moment the knot inside my stomach reached its peak. I let out a high-pitched breath inside the blanket and let my head fall back on the pillow. I hadn’t realized I had contracted my whole body, and let out a chuckle at the realization. Slowly, I turned back to the screen, moving my tired arms to type back.

 Entertain me: I am good, exhausted, and I came, sir.

 I laid back on the pillow with another sigh. What time is it? How long did this take? I should probably get up and get cleaned but I’m too lazy right now.

 A real doctor: Good.

 I saw him type but typed my question faster.

 Entertain me: But it’s weird, you didn’t get to get off. Do you need anything? I could send you pictures if you want, I feel kind of bad that you just… helped me out and I did not do anything.

A real doctor: Oh, you did plenty. I get off on knowing you did as I instructed. And you did, didn’t you?

Entertain me: Yes, of course. Yeah, it was hot… And I enjoyed it, yes.

A real doctor: Is that so? Anything else you’d like to share? I’ve never had such obedient girl. You are very interesting.

Entertain me: Come on, it’s just in this setting that I’m like that. I’m very feisty in real life, I was just wondering what it’d feel like to let go of the control for once, I guess.

Entertain me: But if you need more feedbacks… I hated/loved how long you took to up the speed, and I am genuinely physically drained haha. But in a good way! A very good way.

A real doctor: Let’s talk more once you’ve hydrated. Get some water, and if you can, get cleaned up. I’ll be right here, alright?

Entertain me: right, right. Brb.

 Moving the laptop on my pillow while I sat up, I wrapped my toy with the towel that I had set under myself. When my feet met the ground and I balanced myself, I felt my legs wobbling a bit then made my way to the bathroom silently. I turned on the sink and let the water flow until it was warm and cleaned my toy before cleaning myself and getting changed.

 I made a detour by the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and a sandwich before going back to my bed and sitting down, tailor-style, with my laptop in front of me. There were a few new messages from the doctor, so I put down my food and was ready to reply.

 A real doctor: If you’re willing, I would like to see a picture of your body to check if you’re good.

A real doctor: Now this website does not allow it, but if you have any media in mind, I’m all ears.

Entertain me: Yeah, sure, yep. I don’t have any bruises or anything, but if you’re that worried yeah! Maybe Discord? You’re a doctor, I feel like you don’t have discord.

A real doctor: I don’t know if you’re bratty, or if you are being an idiot on purpose.

Entertain me: omg none? I was voicing my train of thought!

A real doctor: Right. HandSurgeon#4766

Entertain me: Funny name, don’t judge mine. It’s my personal discord, so no sexy pic just, well you’ll see.

 Going to the friend list, I pasted the username in the search bar and added him. I was added back very fast and bided him good night on the website once I was sure it was him on discord. I made sure to save the conversation, just in case… Maybe for later use, if I felt bored.

 HandSurgeon: I don’t even know what’s your profile picture, but I’m not going to mention it again.

Edelweiss: It’s a tardigrade, come on. It’s fun, a bit, right?

Edelweiss: Anyway, let me take that nude for you sir 😉

HandSurgeon: Don’t call it that, it’s to check if you didn’t go too crazy.

Edelweiss: That’s what they say, then they ask for more

 I had to strip down naked once more to take the picture before getting dressed back up, it was getting late but I was still buzzing with energy. I probably won’t talk about this with my roommates, but if they asked why I was up so late I’d have to find an excuse. Telling them I was working would probably work, but then I’d get yelled at for not taking care of myself and having the worse sleep schedule.

 Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

Edelweiss: Here we go. Sorry if I’m not your type, maybe we should have talked about that first. Now I’m self-conscious, but it’s too late haha…

HandSurgeon: You look gorgeous, don’t go thinking you’re not my type. You are very, very hot. I can see you have food next to you, that’s good. You are taking care, good girl.

HandSurgeon: I can also see from your clock that we’re on the same time zone.

HandSurgeon: Which is good and bad, it’s already 3 am and you are not asleep. Why is that?

Edelweiss: living the student life, only the best life. I was working on some project for my master degree, and I thought: hey I’m horny, let’s go on that funny website.

Edelweiss: And here we are.

Edelweiss: Why are you awake? Shouldn’t you be… getting some sleep to be saving lives in the morning or something?

HandSurgeon: I had just finished a 10 hours surgery, I needed something to distract my mind while working on some paperwork. You did very well in being distracting.

 It felt a lot more real when I read his message. It was now sinking in that he was really a doctor, not any kind, a surgeon. I was not going to ask more details, the less I knew the better. But it was slightly intimidating and at the same time interesting to know he was the real deal. My pride was swelling when I read I was able to distract him from his work, he had done his fair share of helping me out too.

 Edelweiss: I am sorry? Is it… important paperwork? I could let you be, if you want. We could talk another time, when you’re free? My sleeping schedule is fucked up, I don’t know about yours but I am going to be online many late nights haha.

Edelweiss: if you want to, of course. Maybe you don’t want to hear from me again. Actually, I thought I’d be the one to leave the website and not come back, but I kind of enjoyed our session… I wouldn’t mind doing this a bit more if we’re both in the mood of course.

HandSurgeon: You’re so nervous. Don’t be, I’m not going to let you go. What kind of dom would I be if I let such an obedient girl go? Go to sleep, we’ll talk later Edelweiss. Any reason for that name?

Edelweiss: god I didn’t want you to ask, it’s just. It’s a cool flower, it means strength and toughness you know? I’m a tough woman, I deal with shit. I can handle shit, you know?

 I read my message many times, thinking maybe I should have found something funny but thought not. It was just bonding, we were discussing, getting to know one another. It wasn’t half bad. I turned off my computer, and moved to Discord on my phone, to keep talking. When I looked at his picture, it was just a white bear, it looked cute. Funny how he had such a cute picture and he was domming someone on the side, two sides of the same coin I suppose. Come to think of it, maybe he could be an old man, maybe he wasn’t who he said he was…

 HandSurgeon: Interesting, I like it. It’s better than calling you ‘Entertain me’. Not very creative, if you ask me.

Edelweiss: Oh right, because ‘A real doctor’ is better? Maybe you’re not even a doctor. Maybe you’re catfishing me. And I sent you a nude. Oh my god…

HandSurgeon: I am not catfishing you, I can send you a picture. What do you need on it?

Edelweiss: Uh, I don’t know? Write down my name on a paper, and hold it against your chest, then take the picture? With the date! Yeah.

 There wasn’t any reply for a moment, I was starting to panic. Then I received the picture and gasped loudly. Surrounded by the darkness of the room, it was all that could drown my shock. I had to take a double take as I wrote back.

 HandSurgeon: [sent an attachment]

Edelweiss: I mean, … Thank you for... it’s uh. Very. You’re not catfishing me. Nope. I understand why HandSurgeon now, you uh. Yep. Nice gloved hands, very slender. Most people would have held a huge piece of paper between their index finger and their thumb.

Edelweiss: but you opted for middle finger and index. And a smaller paper. Almost as if you were posing really. I do not mind. It’s uh. Enjoyable. Not an old man, no. And the scrubs and all, love it.

HandSurgeon: The scrubs, yes. You believe me, good. You can rest easy now, go to sleep Edelweiss. You probably have work to do tomorrow, and so do I.

HandSurgeon: Sleep well.

Edelweiss: Sweet dreams doc!

 I stared at the screen a bit longer before leaving the app and turning my phone face down on my night stand. What a night. I was so tired, and yet buzzing with excitement. It was strange, it was a strange dynamic but I wanted to discover more. I wanted to know more about this world. What else could this man offer me?

 Closing my eyes, I thought, maybe I could buy a connected sex toy? Sure, they were for couples, but they could definitely be used for other people. It could be fitting if I wanted to give him the control…

 My hands met my face full force and I groaned, I had met this man at best 4 hours ago and I was already desperate to have another session. I was already desperate to let him have the control.

 But it felt nice, so nice to not be in control for once. Yes, I had to hold the toy and read, but he was the one guiding me, it was elating! God, what am I doing? No, it’s alright. I’m an adult, he’s an adult. We’re both consenting adults, having fun. Nothing bad there.

 I’m a sore adult though. Maybe I’d need a few days before letting him have his fun. My eyes closed; I was thinking back on how his undershirt was hugging his form. Was it legal to look like that? I mean, I did not know what he looked like, but the little I saw was enough to make someone dream. His long-sleeved grey shirt was showing off his muscles and it definitely made me weak.

 I scoffed into my pillow, a surgeon. I wonder what else his hands could do. Fortunately, I’ll never meet him in real life, if I met the man I did not know if I’d want to jump him or run away from how intimidating his entire being was.

 It only took me a lot of stupid questions and day dreaming, for my brain to finally shut down and let me sleep. I went to sleep a lot easier than I usually did, perhaps it was because of the nice fucking I gave myself. Or perhaps it was thanks to the energy I spent overthinking the situation. Whichever it was, I was passed out in no time.

 Tomorrow I’ll talk more to the hot doctor and have a bit more fun with him.

[Part 2]

[unmaskedagain]

Oh Lady Luck (How I miss you so!)

Okay; first off. I hated this. I had a massive case of writer’s block while doing it and lost inspiration near the end.

Oh Lady Luck (How I miss you so!)

           Bustier’s class was the luckiest in school, everyone knew it. They got to go on the most amazing trips, win contest after contest, competition after competition, met all sorts of celebrities, frequently got to meet Ladybug, through the best dances and school plays, and always seemed to have a pep in their step. Anything any of the students went after they always managed to get. Everyone knew Bustier’s class was the luckiest in school. Then one day that changed dramatically.

“You’ve changed,” Alya accused Marinette after the class voted her out as Class president. “You become a bully.”

           Alix snorted, “More like a jealous bitch.”

           There were nods from the other students in class. Lila smiled at Marinette; happy that her promise to ruin the girl was coming true.

“You’re always so mean to Lila,” Rose added. “It’s not nice.”

“You’re worse than Chloe now,” Kim glared.

           Juleka frowned, “We miss the old Marinette.”

“You should’ve chilled out like I told you to, dudette,” Nino said with a shake of his head, clearly disappointed.

“We can’t be your friends anymore,” Alya crossed her arms.

           Marinette had listen to them quietly as they relayed reason after reason why they were ending their friendships with her; all to do with Lila. She didn’t bother to look at Adrien. He had warned her what was going to happen; Nino had told him. There had also been a group text apparently. Adrien made it clear he stood with Marinette. Even more so, when he chose to sit with her in the back of the class, a fierce glare on his face at the other students.

The bluenette placed down her pencil, closed her sketchbook and said, “Fine. Then we’re not friends anymore.”

“That’s counts double for me,” Adrien hissed. “Lose my number. In fact, don’t bother; I’ll just change it. That goes for every last one of you. I’ll be informing my Father and Nathalie that only Chloe and Marinette are on my visitors list.”

           The class blinked in shock. Not expecting that reaction from the blond boy who was usually so amicable and nice.

           Chloe watched with amused eyes. She had been sentenced to the back of the room not long after Marinette. “We’ve never been friends but consider all extra little perks you’ve gotten used to: dead and over with.”

           That was it. None of the other students knew what to say or do. They hadn’t gotten the reaction they expected. Marinette didn’t seem to care. Adrien seemed ready to set them on fire. Chloe looked rather pleased at the idea of seeing them burn. Most shrugged it off; figuring at least two of the three (Marinette and Adrien) would come crawling back in no time.

           They didn’t.

           Things started to change for the students in Bustier’s class the next day.

           Lila woke up in the morning to an email confirming that she would no longer being a model or any type of employee for the Gabriel Agreste brand. Or as Nathalie put it when the sausage hair girl called her, “We will no longer be needing your services, Miss Rossi. Do not contact us again.” Click.

           That was when Lila realized her plan of using Gabriel to get Adrien under her thumb had went up in flames. She hoped that Adrien wasn’t informed so that maybe she could still use his father as a threat against the boy.

           When she go to class, the blond model sent her a vicious smirk. Lila paled. She knew without a doubt that Adrien didn’t just know Lila was fired, he was the one got her fired.

           Nino woke up to the news that the gig he was due to play, his big break, had replaced him. It would’ve been huge for his career.

Oh well, he thought, back to DJ-ing for birthday parties.

           Alya accidently dropped her phone in the toilet; ruining hundreds of videos and pictures for the Ladyblog.

           Alix took a dive while skating; broke her ankle and the watch her dad gave her.

           Max broke his glasses.

           Kim got food poisoning.

           Ivan’s dad ran over his drum set while parking in the garage.

           Rose tried to call Prince Ali and found out he changed his number.

           Nathaniel spilled coffee all over his Ladybug comic strips. Marc had been pissed.

           Juleka’s mom accidently put bleach in with a load of her laundry; it ruined everything.

           By the time they had all got to class, all the students were in a terrible mood. However, when Marinette walked in with a box full of delicious smelling breakfast pastries; they perked up. The bluenette always seemed to know when they needed a pick me up. And there was nothing like a treat from the Dupain-Cheng Bakery.

           Marinette didn’t acknowledge any of their presences. She walked straight to the back of the classroom, sat in her seat between Chloe and Adrien. “Morning!” She beamed at her friends. “I brought treats for the three of us.”

“Awesome!” Adrien smiled, quickly opening the box and snagging a chocolate croissant. “Delicous, Thank you” He said. Or least they thought he said that. His mouth was full and it was mostly garbled.

           Chloe rolled her eyes. She grabbed a mixed berries and cream cheese pastry, “Perfect way to start the day. Thank you, Marinette.”

           Marinette took out her favorite: a berry and jasmine scone. Then she promptly through the box away; making clear that she hadn’t brought any for anyone else. “Anything for my friends.”

“We’ll do lunch at Le Grand Paris,” Chloe said. “On me of course. The chef there is to die for.”

           The other students visibly wilted. Alya in particular who loved going to Le Grand Paris as her mother was the head chef.

           It all went downhill from there.

           Over the next week things went from bad to worse for the students.

           Bustier told the class their trip the Presidential office was cancelled due to an unexpected flooding incident. The plan had been for the class to tour the office and have amazing picnic on the beach afterwards

           Lila’s mother, who had been busy nearly 24/7, officially went on vacation, meaning she plenty of time to spend with her daughter. Her daughter was panicked when her mother inquired about visiting her school.

           Alya discovered that the hits to her site had started to declined dramatically. She didn’t have time to worry about that as her internship with a local new studio had been cancelled; something about realizing Alya didn’t have enough experience. So her summer plans were cancelled.

           Nino’s Dj equipment sparked or shorted out or something but nothing would work anymore. He had cancel the rest of his gigs until he could buy new ones.

           Kim lost a swim match against Ondine.

           Markov got a virus and broke down causing Max to break down in tears.

           Nathaniel lost the expensive sketch pencil he won in a contest.

           Alix’s grandmother brought her a new dresses; frilly monstrosities that Alix’s forced her to wear to school for the entire week.

           Rose, Ivan, and Juleka were heartbroken when Luka announced he was going Solo.

           It didn’t help anyone’s mood that every day Marinette, Chloe, and Adrien walked into class with big smiles on their faces and pleasantly discussed their amazing plans.

           On Wednesday, Adrien invited Marinette and Chloe to come with him to meet the Prime Minister.

           Apparently, Adrien’s dad had called in favors so the three would tour Palais Bourbon, where the French Parliament meets.

“He said I could invite all my friends!” Adrien smiled.

           Marinette had been shocked at this. Until Adrien explained that his aunt had threatened to reveal to the world Gabriel Agreste’s neglectful behavior, his tendency break child labor laws, and his need to isolate Adrien. Thanks to his aunt, Adrien had a much free-er schedule and Gabriel had been in therapy for weeks. “I’ll bring food from the bakery. We can have a picnic!”

“Beach day!” Chloe cheered.

           No one else so much as smiled at the news. Even more so when pictures surfaced on Friday of Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Ondine, Marc, Mireille, and Aurore with various members of Parliament; including the prime minister.

           Thursday, Chloe loudly invited Marinette and Adrien to an event for her mother, “It’s a fashion show! It’s tonight. Adrien can relax behind the scenes, while Mari and me model on the run way. Mama’s lost a few models so I told her I could recommend a few friends.”

“I’m modeling!” Marinette paled so much, her friends were sure she’d pass out.

“I get to do nothing!” Adrien grinned.

           Pictures of Chloe and Marinette modeling exploded across the internet; multiple fashion websites and online magazines deeming the girls’ Style Queen’s secret weapon and modeling next big thing.

           Most of the guys in class shrugged it off. But a few of the girls turned greened with envy; Lila in particular.

           On Friday, Marinette invited Adrien and Chloe to meet her uncle and her cousin, “He’s back in town on Saturday and he wants to meet all my friends.”

           No one else in class paid too much to that. Who cared about Marinette’s uncle? Or her cousin? They were probably just as stuck-up and nasty as she was.

           Then on Saturday, picture of the same group who went to Parliament, plus Luka, with Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale started trending on the internet. Jagged Stone posted a tweet about how awesome his honorary niece was, with a picture of him and Marinette. Clara posted a pic with her favorite little cousin, Marinette.

           Alya couldn’t believe her eyes and immediately started texting Marinette for the deets. She received a text back saying; new number; who dis?

           Nino flat-out called Adrien only hear that the number had been disconnected.

           The rest of the class faced the same issue.

           And then one by one, they each remembered that they weren’t friends with any of the tree Ostracized students anymore.

           Monday, Alya found out that BugOut, a competing Ladybug blog, had been officially endorsed by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Something that hadn’t happened with the Ladyblog.

           Max lost the science fair. For the first time. He had to go see the school guidance counselor.

           Kim got kicked off the team for his poor grade.

           Lila’s finally called the school to schedule an appointment. Lila was Akumatized within the five minutes.

           Alix’s grandma brought her more clothes; some which were tacky sweaters with cats all over them

           Nathaniel misplaced his new sketch book, with his redone Ladybug comic strips. He never found it. Marc wasn’t happy.

           Nino got a call to dj a huge event only to have to decline as he hadn’t bought new equipment yet.

           It was Adrien that brought in breakfast for the other two; Mcdonalds. Much to the Chloe and Marinette’s dismay, but they didn’t say anything as the boy was clearly happy about being allowed to eat it for the first time.

           Marinette unwrapped her sausage Mcgriddle, wondering who she hurt in a past life, “Jagged is doing a private concert. You two want to come?”

           Adrien nodded, his mouth full of fried hash brown and bacon. “Count me in,” They think he said.

           Chloe held the egg mcmuffin in her hand like it was physically hurting her to do so, “I’m in,” she said. “And I’m bringing breakfast tomorrow.”

           The class was dismayed at missing at meeting Jagged Stone again.

“Are you going to invite us?” Alya asked with a huff.

           Marinette didn’t even look in her direction, “Sorry Uncle Jagged said I can only invite my friends.”

           Ouch.

           Over the course of the next few months, things continued to fall apart for the class. They tried planning one of their usual amazing dances, only for everything to crash and burn. Then they remembered that Marinette planned everything, and before her, Chloe.

           The class never made enough money fundraising so nearly all planned class trips were canceled.

           They had to deal with seeing pictures of Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe and all their friends meeting all sorts of celebrities.

           Ladybug disowned the Ladyblog; causing Alya to burst into tears.

           No matter what any of the students tried, did, competed in, they never won. They practically failed at everything.

           Rose tried to bake cookies for the class; her kitchen caught on fire.

           Max applied for science camp; all spots were full.

           Nathaniel who had lost his comic drawing for the twelfth time in a row was finally told by Marc to take a hike.

           Nino lost his hat, broke his glasses, a dog at his homework, and he tripped landed face down in the mud; all on the way to school one morning.

           The students were constantly late, frustrated, and always seemed to have something accidently spilled or thrown on their clothes.

           Lila’s  mother, who finally decided to just randomly drop by the school after being told repeatedly by her daughter that it was closed so she couldn’t do the appointment for months, was shocked to say the least when it was clearly opened and active. She had a long talk with the Principle and all of Lila’s lies were revealed to class.

           Class was very apologetic to the three ostracized students after that but it didn’t matter. The three made it clear they weren’t interested in renewing their friendships.

           By the end of the year Bustier’s class went from the luckiest in school to the unluckiest kids on the planet.

           The students of Bustier’s class couldn’t help but wonder aloud why they lucked changed do much.

           Tikki, Plagg, and Pollen, hidden away in their chosens’ school bags just smirked.

[gotnofucks]

Parts of Whole

(No images are mine, but I did edit them. If anyone knows the owners, do let me know so I can credit them)

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes, Sam x Steve (platonic)

Summary: Steve would see his OTP’s ship sail, even from across the grave.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of death (nothing graphic and not very sad), language, angst + fluff

A/N: I saw the trailer for tfatws and I just had to write this. This is also my entry for the amazingly talented @sagechanoafterdark and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork challenge (pic prompts above). Thank you for hosting this and being wonderful. The beautiful dividers are made by @firefly-graphics . Huge thanks to @the-inquisitive-hobbit for beta reading and giving me her very valuable insight.

 It never felt right in his hands. It was his to wield, his to claim, and yet it never felt more foreign. The concentric red and white circles with the star embedded in the blue center glared back at him from the mirror. It had been months, but Sam had never taken this shield with him to any mission. He couldn’t.

It felt starkly cold in his hands, lifeless and materialistic. It was Steve’s symbol of strength and hope. It used to hang on his back, warmed by his body heat. Now, it seemed like the shield only existed to remind him of Steve’s absence. This shield was made for Steve. It belonged to him, it always would. How could he ever stand where he stood? How could Sam ever be the captain that Steve was, take this shield that held more power than a crown on a head?

He put it down again, covering it with a cloth before shutting the door on it, leaning heavily against it. He missed him, he missed him like a throbbing wound that refused to heal. If only he could see the sun shining on those golden locks again, have those baby blue eyes smile at him again. What wouldn’t he give for that.

He didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until a heavy hand was on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Sam didn’t open his eyes, just let the weight of it anchor him, let it bring him back from the chaos that was his mind. The cold metal hand felt like a relief against the overwhelming burden of grief that penetrated his being whenever he touched the circular shield.

“I miss him too.” Bucky said, and Sam opened his eyes. Bucky’s eyes were blue too, slightly grey where Steve’s were green. He could see himself reflected in them and he straightened, looking away, hiding his weakness.

This mantle of Steve Rogers that he was supposed to assume, this legacy he was supposed to take forward felt like cheating. His friend, his mentor, his brother was no more. How could people just expect him to move on? But they did. It didn’t matter he was emotionally compromised, it didn’t matter he wanted to drown, like Steve nearly had at the Potomac all those years ago. The world didn’t wait to create one disaster after another. They needed Captain America then, and they needed him now. Like Fury said, trouble always sticks around.

Sam cleared his throat, making sure he was collected before looking at Bucky again.

“Everything loaded in the Quinjet?” He asked and Bucky nodded. They’ll be leaving for another mission soon, and Sam was glad he’ll have the sounds of battle to drown the war in his heart.

“Sam.” Bucky said once Sam started leaving. “Take it.”

Sam looked at Bucky over his shoulder, his gaze equal parts pain and accusation. Of everyone, Bucky shouldn’t be the one telling him this.

“I’ll meet you in the jet.” He said firmly and quickly marched to his room, shutting the door behind him. He hated coming back to the compound, the lingering memories of their fallen warriors whispering in his ears every time he was here. He preferred his little house in the woods where it was only Bucky and nature with him.

He took out his tactical gear, laying it on the bed and getting out his wings when he heard it.

“You are punishing yourself Sam.” Came his voice.

It was this moment where Sam broke, sliding down the wall and letting a few tears escape. He was gone but he never left him.

“How could you have been so selfish Steve. Why?” He asked, looking up to glare at Steve. Even dead he looked so handsome, so put together with his hands on his hips. He didn’t look like the old man they had buried a month after the battle. No. He was their Steve, their young, beautiful Steve who left them behind.

Sam didn’t know why he saw him. He didn’t know if this was a ghost or a creation of his mind. To him, it was Steve. It was Steve and it was a beautiful suffering to see him again every time he reappeared.

“I am sorry.” Steve said and knelt before Sam, looking apologetic. Sam didn’t try touching him. Not when the first hundred times his hand just went through him.

“You are? What for?” Sam asked. “For leaving behind your shield and title, for leaving me behind, or for abandoning a best friend you promised to walk till the end of the line with? What are you really sorry for Captain?”

Steve didn’t answer, he never did. He let Sam take out his hurt and anger, and Sam cried. In the privacy of his walls, he cried. He was so tired of pretending to be strong, to be happy. He hid behind his jokes and smiles, fooled the world which was so ready to move on while Sam was buried somewhere with Steve in the cemetery, half dead, half alive.

“I am sorry Sam, for everything.” Steve insisted. “But you need to stop punishing yourself for mistakes you never made. You can’t live this way.”

Sam snorted a laugh for even in death Steve was a humanitarian bastard. He didn’t come back to haunt his enemies; oh no the centenarian came back to help his friends. Why didn’t people see that he could never be Steve? That Sam Wilson can never, won’t ever be the Captain that Steven Rogers was.

“I hate you so much Steve, I really do.” Sam whispered, wiping his nose and getting up. Steve watched him getting changed, no barriers of shame between them from that side of the grave.

“You always said that. I have never heard a ‘I love you’ more pronounced than I do in your hate.” Steve commented with a soft smile, it widened when Sam gave him a half-hearted glare. It was amazing how they could go from having a painful conversation to joking, but that was how it worked with Steve. He knew Sam, he knew everything that made him laugh and made him smile.

“What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have a tea party with Gandhi or some other do-gooder like you in the afterlife?” Sam grumbled, tightening the belt in his suit and attaching his wings to it. Steve chuckled, sitting on the chair and watching Sam with a relaxed smile.

“They are too uptight for me. Mother Teresa tried to adopt me the other day” Steve said, and Sam laughed. His wings were the colours of American Flag, a new change. He grabbed his weapons and fixed Steve with a look, hating and loving him for being so him.

“I’ll see you after the mission?” He asked tentatively. He would never admit it, but he feared one day Steve would disappear again. It was crazy, it was not normal to see dead people, but Sam would rather have a shadow of Steve than just a memory.

“I’ll be here as long as you need me Sam. Always.” Steve said, a sad smile on his face when he saw Sam leaving without the shield.

Sharon greeted him in the jet, talking to Bucky and the other agents over the blueprint spread before them. Sam nodded his hello, snatching the half empty pack of Cheetos from Bucky’s hand and munching on it.

“So now you want to steal the show and my food. You’re such a dick Wilson.” Bucky said, poking Sam in his shoulder and Sam poked his tongue out at him, a gap-toothed smile on his face. Their previous somber interaction would not be mentioned, filed again like so many inside the neglected corner of their minds.

“Bitch, I paid for grocery this month. This is technically mine.” Sam replied, making Bucky scowl. Sam knew there was a 70-30 chance he’ll find his bed crawling with centipedes when they got back home.

“Charming, boys.” Sharon remarked rolling her eye. “What are you guys doing for Christmas? Must be nice to have a holiday.”

Bucky shrugged, sharing a look with Sam. It was their first Christmas without Steve, a 6 feet 2-inch void always between them.

“Nothing special. Stay home, watch movies, eat a lot.” Bucky said. A lot remained unsaid, but they rarely needed words to communicate anymore. Sam bumped his shoulder in his, offering him some Cheetos to munch while he silently grieved.

“Well, I’ll leave my address here for you to deliver your presents to me.” Sharon joked and Sam laughed softly, mentally making a note to get her something.

“Alright then, and I’ll just casually remark that my phone and laptop are both in serious need for an upgrade. Just saying.” Sam said. “Hey Buck, what are you going to gift me?”

Bucky crumpled the empty chips packet before sending Sam an amused glare, flipping him off.

“A ball gag, so that I can hear something other than your stupid voice.” He snarked.

“Damn dude, at least ask me out for dinner before getting kinky.” Sam winked and Bucky swelled with indignation, pointing an accusing metal finger at Sam.

“I cook dinner 3 times a week you bastard, and I don’t even burn it!” He protested making Sam laugh louder than ever. He loved making Bucky mad, teasing him into an incensed rage that usually ended in a pillow fight or sometimes with Sam’s head in a headlock.

They straightened as they saw the incredulous looks on the new agents’ faces, baby agents as Bucky liked to call them. It was times like these, when both the battle-hardened veterans missed their lost teammates, the inside jokes that were shot around with as much precision as bullets and arrows on the battlefield.

They got to work again, discussing the mission and its details with the other agents. Sam would run point on scaling the territory and fly down to the enemy base with two agents while Bucky would guide him from up here and take out potential threats. They just needed to secure a technological innovation and it didn’t seem too like much work. As Sam poured over the briefing, his eyes subconsciously went over to Bucky who was fiddling with the equipment, making sure everything was in working condition.

If someone had told him a few years ago that Bucky would become his anchor, his solace in his darkest hours, Sam would have punched them in the face. But as it happened, they came to lean on each other, the only unchanged part of their older lives, the only person who made each feel that were still real, still alive. They were still annoyed by each other, but the arguments were more of a routine than an actual expression of resentment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until someone deliberately coughed behind him.

“He is so pretty, isn’t he?” Steve asked, though it was a rhetorical question. Bucky Barnes was a beauty, from his blue grey eyes to the new golden streaks running through his new arm. Sam tried not to notice the way Bucky’s armor clung to his muscles, his face looking almost boyish as he forgot the world and focused on his task.

“I thought you said I’ll see you after the mission.” Sam muttered, taking care that no one noticed him talking to air. He hurriedly looked away from Bucky when their eyes met, a heat rising in his cheeks that made Steve chuckle.

“I said I’ll be there when you need me. And it seems like you do.” Steve commented. He took the seat next to Sam, so near that Sam swore he could feel the heat emanating from his body.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam snapped, the smug look on Steve’s face making him wish he could touch him if only to be able to punch him. Stupid blonde best friends with perfect teeth and beautiful smiles and an ass that looked just as round after being dead.

“Oh, I think you do.” Steve said, shifting his gaze to Bucky. “I liked his hair longer but the shorter is going well with the new arm. Don’t you think?”

Despite himself Sam found himself nodding, admiring Bucky as he’d done a thousand times before. He liked his longer hair too, but without them falling in his face, he could see him better. And the arm. The new arm that gave Sam tingles in the most delicious ways, it had him flustered for three whole weeks after Bucky first showed up with it on him.

He didn’t know when it started, but Bucky had somehow become the most beautiful person to Sam. From the way he would make him the perfect mug of coffee to their little kitchen garden they started to keep themselves busy, he loved everything about him. Those moments where he would sense the turmoil inside Sam and silently slip his hands in Sam’s to assure him that he was there, these little moments endeared him even more.

Sam had lost count of how many times Bucky and he had woken up on the couch, sharing a blanket, both silently afraid to sleep alone. He had forgotten how many times he had spent kneeling at Bucky’s bedside, coaxing him out from a nightmare. Every moment spent in each other’s company, laughing, joking, mourning together, it brought them together in a way Sam had never imagined before.

“Tell him” Steve said, a wistful look on his face as he looked at his best friend. “He feels the same. I know.”

Sam shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Bucky with reluctance. He’d already lost so much, he wouldn’t lose Bucky too. Not because he has a minor, very minor teensy tiny crush on him.

“Man, shut the hell up.” He snapped.

“Who’re you talking to?” Bucky called out from across the jet and Sam’s head snapped up, mouth parting a little before he mumbled out a ‘no one’ and focused on the papers in his hand. Sometimes he felt guilty for keeping Steve a secret, for keeping Bucky away from his best friend. He knew Bucky cried into his pillow at nights, he knew because he’d held him then, tried his best to fill the cracks that appeared in the walls of Bucky’s heart as well as his own.

But then, Steve chose to come to him. Chose to talk to Sam. And he was afraid that telling anyone would disturb this magic, whatever this was. That he would once again have to bury Steve. So, he kept quiet. He buried this secret in the deep recesses of his mind, the initial worry of insanity long forgotten in favor of seeing his friend again.

“Do you even have a plan?” Bucky questioned, watching him prepare for the jump. Sam had a job for every agent accompanying him, but the idiot had not outlined anything for himself.

“I do.” Sam said, and when Bucky looked unconvinced, he lightly punched his shoulder. “You’re my plan, my backup. I scream, jump down and get my ass back up.”

Saying this, Sam jumped, the exasperated look on Bucky’s face imprinted behind his eyelids as his wings flared out and he floated.

Everything that could have gone wrong on this mission did, and Bucky was hysterical even before Sam’s call for backup came. He was going to kick Nick Fury’s ass, but before that he was going to bring his friend back in one-piece and chew him out for giving him a heart attack.

Sam’s wings took most of the weight of the fall, so he came back with a sprained ankle and bruises. Bucky was getting increasingly irritated when they came back home, their little secluded spot in the woods welcoming them with the smell of pine and wild grass.

“It’s not my fault Fury gave us shitty intel.” Sam groaned, “You can stop being salty now.”

Bucky remained quiet, the silent treatment going for almost the third day in row and Sam was at his wits end. It was stupid and ridiculous because Bucky almost always pulled the stupidest moves in the field, like stopping a bomb with his hand or listening to the villain’s evil monologue.

Steve was grinning as he leaned against the edge of the table, and with every suggestive wink he gave Sam, the new Captain America resisted the urge to throw a vase at him.

“He cares so much that he’s speechless.” Steve commented and Sam flipped him off. Dickhead has been giving running commentary of the thick tension in the air since they came back, and Sam was on the verge of calling for an exorcism.

“Why do you do that?” Bucky asked suddenly and Sam was so glad to hear him talk again it took him a while to understand the question.

“What?”

“This thing, looking somewhere and talking to yourself, or – I don’t know, you keep being weird.”

“You’re the one with the cyborg brain and arm and I’m weird” Sam tried deflecting. Bucky frowned, coming closer to sit near Sam, leaving abandoned Christmas decorations scattered around them. Clint had delivered it for them but neither had the heart to put them up.

“Sam.” Bucky deadpanned, and Sam sighed, resting his head back and avoiding eye contact. He looked at Steve who was still smiling, his beautiful face like a slap on the face and caress on the head at the same time.

It was more difficult than one would assume to explain. Why did Sam see Steve, and why did only Sam see Steve? Was it a hallucination, or his spirit? Would Steve go away if Sam confided in Bucky? Would Bucky be mad he didn’t tell him? There were so many questions, so many doubts, and yet as Sam looked into Bucky’s eyes, shining like sapphires, he couldn’t keep it to himself.

“Its…Its Steve.” He said, looking down and playing with the soft lint on his blanket. He didn’t hear Bucky say anything but moments later a metal hand gripped his, stopping its nervous movements.

“Steve?”

Sam gulped, the coolness of Bucky’s hand in his warming his heart, swelling it with hope and an emotion Sam was too afraid to acknowledge.

“Steve, he – he talks to me.” Sam confessed and tentatively looked at Bucky whose eyes were brimming with emotion. He expected him to call him crazy, or to get mad, but what he did not expect was Bucky to shift closer and take Sam’s other hand in his too.

“He talks to me as well.” Bucky said. Sam was breathless, both by the slight smell of cinnamon that came from Bucky and the way Bucky came even closer, close enough that he could count the flecks in his eyes.

“He does?” Sam asked and Bucky nodded.

“I don’t know how he does it with you, but whenever I need him, miss him, I feel him speak to me from here.” With this Bucky placed one of Sam’s hand on his chest, the beating heart under thumping strongly. Unconsciously, Sam’s hand caressed Bucky’s chest, mapped its muscles and the jagged scars that bulged under his left shoulder.

“I see him.” Sam admitted, unable to look away from Bucky. “I can see him”

Tears blurred his vision until they dropped on his cheeks, sliding down, and forging a river down, leaving a trail of hurt, betrayal, and loss in their wake. Bucky’s hand came up to wipe them away, staying on Sam’s cheek, playing with the soft hair on his chin.

“I see him too. In you.” Bucky said and they didn’t know who moved first, but their foreheads were touching and then their lips met in a chaste, hesitant kiss. Sam melted into his touch, molding himself to fall into Bucky’s larger frame, his arms circling his waist and pulling him closer. They kissed as if they had walked a hundred miles just to kiss each other, as if they had saved every last breath just to live this moment.

“I – I, Buck –” Sam began but Bucky shushed him, pulling him into another soul-searching kiss before pulling away.

“I know.” He murmured.

As Sam relaxed in Bucky’s warm embrace, lost himself in the blues of Bucky’s eyes, he noticed Steve from the corner of his eyes. There was sadness on his face, the pain of a goodbye in the creases around his eyes. But when he smiled, he smiled with genuine love and happiness. The two parts of his soul he’d left behind seemed to have found themselves, and with them Steve felt himself complete.

“Till the end of the line pals.” He whispered.

Sam never saw Steve again.

Their Christmas was not very festive in terms of decoration. There was still too much pain, too much suffering in their hearts. Steve and Nat’s pictures beamed at them from the walls, and Sam sent Pepper the confirmation that they’ll come over for New Years.

It was a beautiful thing about human nature, about how one rises from the ashes to become stronger. Sam and Bucky lost someone, but they found each other. In the shared grieve of their hearts, they discovered the love long buried in there, eagerly waiting to be spread and shared.

They stayed warm under the blanket, wearing oversized sweaters that they wouldn’t be caught dead wearing outside. The sweaters may or may not have been Steve's; the soldiers mutually decided to hold Steve close in this way. Sam’s heart was tripled in size, as his head rested in the crook of Bucky’s neck, the smell of chocolate and cinnamon melting together to make a little world of their own. Sam wondered if he would mind growing out his hair again.

“So, what did you get me?” Sam asked, knowing he wouldn’t mind if Bucky did get him that ball gag. Part of him almost hoping for it.

“How rude Wilson, here I’ve given you all of myself and you still thirst for more.” Bucky mocked and Sam tackled him into a hug, peppering kisses all over his face.

“Bitch, you’re lucky I lo-” Sam cut himself off, suddenly shy. The smirk on Bucky’s face melted into a smile, a hungry look in his eyes.

“Say it” Bucky ordered. And Sam did. The Captain obeyed his Sergeant without hesitation.

“I love you. I love you so freaking much! I got us the cheesiest gifts.” Sam said in excitement. He pulled away long enough to grab his gift from under the bed, giving it to Bucky to open. He watched with his bottom lip between his teeth as Bucky opened the box to pull out two chains, each dangling with a rectangular pendant.

Dog tags.

Their dog tags. Bucky raised his eyes to Sam’s, fisting his hand in Sam’s t-shirt to pull him closer into a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and moans, hips grinding as passion merged with love and emotion.

“I love you!” Bucky growled and kissed Sam again. “And I got you chocolates that look like dicks. I didn’t know this would happen between us when I bought them, and I was going to give you a hint with them.”

Sam’s laughter echoed around their small house, the dopey smile on his face remaining intact as they ate candy and burnt sparklers into the night. In the colourful light that played on their faces, they held hands together, filling the void that was there with the warmth of each other.

“We can use the shield as a sleigh until you’re comfortable using it as a weapon.” Bucky mused and Sam smiled into his neck, thinking of a certain blond asshole who may have gone away, but will never be lost.

Permanent Taglist: @what-is-your-wish @shooting-star-love @stanmysoul @sweeterthanthis @scentedsongrebel @muralskins @rayofdawnworld @donutloverxo @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @angrythingstarlight @rockyrogers @slothspaghettiwrites @nerdygirl8203 

CE & Steve : @littlegasps @bluemusickid @harrysthiccthighss @abeyyaaar @slytherinandoutasgard @empath-bunny 

SebStan & Bucky : @sebastiansthot @its-izzys @harrysthiccthighss @empath-bunny

For this fic : @barnesandco​

[nightcoremoon]

it's evident people haven't watched enough kids media to adequately understand just what constitutes a kids show as opposed to a show that kids can watch and be entertained by

when I was a kid I watched king of the hill and blues clues (among other things). king of the hill is NOT a kids show by any stretch of the imagination; it is an adult animation, replete with fairly heavy subject matter, sexual themes, political humor, cultural references that kids won't understand, discussion of religion in the modern day, depression and suicidal thoughts, adultery, puberty and sexual awakenings, body image, propane, propane accessories, and ultimately above all else what it means to be family. and blues clues is a show about a man who plays with a shovel & pail, talks to his condiments and mailbox, and sometimes he teleports into the felt dimension, all while playing Sherlock Holmes hercule poirot with his dog, and teaching kids how to count and draw and recognize colors and learn their ABCs. do you see the fucking difference? no? then I'll make it more clear.

dora the explorer & go diego go, mickey mouse clubhouse, handy manny, octonauts, bob the builder, super why, wild kratts, zoboomafoo, jojo's circus, wow wow wubbzy, stanley, doc mcstuffins, max & ruby, wonder pets, bubble guppies, ni hao khai lan, backyardigans, little einsteins, caillou (ugh) and p*w p*trol (double ugh), these are all undeniably kids shows. their audience is children (and the occasional adult by age with severe intellectual disabilities) and maybe the parents whose brains are too fried to care what's on the tv. these shows main purpose is to educate while entertaining on subjects one would encounter in preschool and kindergarten. counting 1-10, ABCs, basic color, basic language, basic intrapersonal skills, basic emotional literacy, problem solving, using your imagination, what sounds do animals make, breaking the fourth wall to ask the audience to answer what's 2+2 or tell them a lesson they learned today like I LEARNED TO NEVER JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER or some simple message like that. it's always light, there's no edgelord grimdark "what if they were dead the whole time" bullshit. it's just good clean simple wholesome [except for paw patrol] programs for kids to be distracted for a little bit of time, while also letting them walk away having said they learned something. at least half of the time dedicated to every single one of these shows is devoted to the same shit over and over again. I'm the map I'm the map I'm the map I'm the map I'm the map I'm the map WE FUCKING GET IT YOURE THE MAP! backpack backpack I'm the backpack loaded up with things and knickknacks too, anything that you might need I've got inside for you. we did it we did it we did it HOORAY! come on vamanos everybody let's go, come on let's get to it, I know that we can do it,

WHERE ARE WE GOING

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

THESE SONGS ARE BURNED INTO MY BRAIN AND THEYLL BE STUCK IN MY HEAD UNTIL I DIE

say click take a pic, the hot dog dance, CAN HE FIX IT???, pizza! spaghetti!, THE DOC IS IN AND SHELL FIX YOU UP, max & ruby ruby & max max & ruby ruby & max MAX & RUBY RUBY & MAX MAX & RUBY RUBY & MAX, wonder pets wonder pets we're on our way to help the friend and save the day, we're not too big and we're not too tough but when we work together we've got the right stuff, goooOOO WONDER PETS YAAAAY~, yoooour backyard friends the backyardigans (weve got the whole wide world in our yard to explore, thATS WHY EVERY DAY WEEEEERE BACK FOR MOOOORE), were going on a trip in our little rocket ship SOARING THROOOOOUGH THE SKY!!! little einsteins!

I swear to god I've been forced to watch so much children's television in my life it's no wonder there's no room left for serotonin executive function or the ability to speak to morons

point is I know my way around kids shows. my sisters were born in 98, 02, 05, 06, 10, and 18, I think, I don't even know because they're all a blur, I'm literally closer in age to my parents than to my youngest sibling, I never stopped being exposed to kids shows. I know what is and is not a kids show.

adventure time? not a kids show even though kids watch it. it's a "for everyone" show. it's got a target audience of 100% of the planet. steven universe? not a kids show even though kids watch it. miraculous ladybug? not a kids show even though kids watch it. scooby doo? not a kids show even though kids watch it. I'm not discussing the history of adult acceptance of animation, adult animation, or anime, so don't ask. dexter's laboratory. the grim adventures of billy & mandy. codename kids next door. teen titans. fairly oddparents. kim possible. invader zim. AVATAR THE LAST AIRBENDER. totally spies. courage the cowardly dog. the proud family. SPONGEBOB F*ING SQUAREPANTS. powerpuff girls. foster's home for imaginary friends. oh yeah you know what's coming next. my little goddamn pony friendship is mother fucking magic is not. a. kids. show. even though kids can watch it. it is a cartoon. it is an everyone show. that's why it's disingenuous and fucking stupid to decry any fan over the age of 7 as a pedophile and a weirdo creep; it participates in the infantilization of femininity. why is it ok for 20somethings to keep watching aang and squidward and finn & jake and zim and "return the slab" and everyone's totally fine wth that but when it's twilight sparkle suddenly everyone's like whoa you're a huge fucking loser for watching this girly wussy baby show for girly wussy babies. oh some bronies are sex crazed perverts? I'm sorry have you seen just how much porn there is for spongebob? oh some bronies are cringe? I'm sorry have you met half the steven universe fandom? oh some bronies are fascist rick sanchez kinnies with fedoras and katanas? BREAKING BAD FANS, HELLO!?!?!?

this is such a stupid tiring boring argument. maybe magic talking horses being friends and turning their friendship into magic rainbow nuclear fucking arms and blasting the evil out of a demon and turning her into the coolest fucking half-unicorn biker lesbian in the world is something that brings me, and adult, pure wholesome joy, in between bojack horseman and dark souls and breaking bad and deftones and fallout new vegas and jojo and cannibal corpse and other bleak depressing edgy shit that also brings me comfort. and MAYBE me at 16 starting to watch MLP:FIM becoming finally comfortable with the outward public expression of "traditionally feminine" interests is the main reason why I realized I was a girl when I did, and MAYBE I just like how pretty the colorful ponies look, AND MAYBE I KIN WITH ONE OR TWO OR EIGHT CHARACTERS, WHAT OF IT?

AND MAYBE ITS LITERALLY THE BEST LONG RUNNING FANTASY TV SERIES ON THE MARKET RIGHT NOW* SINCE GAME OF THRONES FUCKING SUCKS

but whatever, kids watch it sometimes so it's illegal for anyone who's not a kid to enjoy it, but only if it's something girly because liking girly things is bad because girliness is inherently bad, and the only things that are good have predominantly male casts*. right? right??? wrong, fucker. g4mlp has so much more in common with adventure time & atla than with blues clues or dora the fucking explora...r.

but keep in mind I'm saying this while hugging a blues clues plushie my grandma gave me for valentine's day because it reminds her of when I was a baby because I may not watch blues clues but it still means a lot to me for nostalgia and is 50% of the reason why I love ray charles. kids media isn't necessarily bad. I still do enjoy watching it with my little sisters. all this is is me being anal about categorization because I'm autistic and I LIVE for categorizing everything.

*besides atla obviously

[cagestark]

A Hole in the Head//2

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight 

Everybody was so kind to me last night. Here’s a thanks <3

Read here on AO3.

-

The next morning finds Peter lounging in bed. When he stretches and twists against the silken sheets, his ass smarts from the sound spanking Tony gave it the night before. His morning wood aches at the reminder. After his punishment, Tony had rolled on a condom and fucked Peter on his hands and knees, the backs of his thighs giving his sore ass a pounding. He’d made Peter cum from his cock alone and then pulled out, shed the condom, and demanded that Peter suck him off. This cock just made you cum, baby, he’d said, fingers tangled in Peter’s hair. Treat it real good. Thank it, thank me.

The bedroom door opens. Peter sits up, breathless at the sight of Tony’s figure in the doorway.

“Thank God you’re here, sir,” Peter says. “I really don’t think I showed your cock enough gratitude last night.”

Tony steps into the room and Barnes appears following behind him. 

Peter’s mouth goes dry. God, in the afternoon light that streams through the window, Barnes is even more handsome than the dining room chandelier had made him out to be. His jaw is sharp and shadowed, lips full and downturned. The low brow disguises pale eyes and gives the impression that Barnes is always one disappointment away from murder. Nothing turns Peter on more. 

“Oh,” Peter breathes, putting a hand against his bare chest in the semblance of modest astonishment. “Two gifts? I get two cocks to worship?” 

Tony’s mouth has to work hard to keep its flat, unimpressed line. Barnes gives no outward reaction—a tough nut to crack, but Peter knows that the harder the work, the larger the payoff. “No gifts, Peter. You can show my cock gratitude later, though I doubt you’ll still feel moved to. I’m showing Barnes the panic room in the closet. You know it’s noon, don’t you? You shouldn’t lay in bed all day, pumpkin.” 

Without any further acknowledgement of Peter’s existence, Tony ushers Barnes into the large walk-in closet. 

Sighing, Peter slips from the bed, arching his back and stretching again just for the pleasant ache. He grabs fresh boxers to don after he showers and then takes up residence in the in-closet doorway, watching the two men. The panic room door is in the south wall, hidden by a line of Tony’s suits which have been pushed aside.

“Are we resetting the access code, sir?” Peter asks. 

Both men turn. Tony, used to seeing Peter in various states of undress, is more than likely just pleased he isn’t naked and doesn’t bat an eye. Barnes however is not used to it. Those stony eyes drag from Peter’s bruise-ridden collar bone down over his trim chest and abs, catching on the tent in Peter’s boxers (and yeah, it jerks just under the weight of that cold gaze) before following the line of his legs all the way down to the bare feet, toenails shiny with polish. 

Barnes takes it all in—and then he looks back at the panic room door and his eyes don’t touch Peter again. 

“Yes,” Tony answers Peter’s question. “We’re going to set it to something easy for Barnes to remember—” 

“It’s not my panic room,” Barnes interrupts, voice raspy. “If anyone is going to forget, I’d rather it be me instead of you or the kid. Just leave the code as it is, Mr. Stark; I’ll remember it.” 

Tony’s eyebrows lift above the rim of his tinted glasses. 

A complicated man, it’s a fine line between the authority that Tony’s likes having challenged and the kind that is likely to get a man in trouble. In his subordinates, he requires obedience (with only certain exceptions for creative flare). In his lovers, Tony loves the struggle. The intellectual challenge that comes with banter, the power-struggle of dominating a partner who doesn’t bend easily, the joy of breaking a brat. It’s one reason why Peter and Tony are so sexually compatible—both their needs are met in the other. But Barnes, Peter wonders, holding his breath. What kind of challenge is he presenting to Tony?

After a moment that likely only lasts a few heartbeats, Tony’s head tilts in concession. He brushes onwards so seamlessly that Peter doesn’t even get the chance to analyze what it all means. “If you insist. 774337 opens the door. It locks from the inside automatically upon being closed, and there is a mandatory twelve hour waiting period before the door will open. The only override requires both my thumbprint and Peter’s, so don’t go in there for shits and giggles unless you enjoy solitude.”

“Will that override work if you’re dead?” Barnes wonders. 

“Yes. The scanner isn’t picky about if the thumb is attached to a living person, nor if it comes from the left or right hand. It has prints for both. Should I be killed, feel free to exhume them; they won’t be doing me any good.” 

Feeling sick, Peter storms into the closet and rifles for the first set of clothes he can find. “I don’t want to listen to this,” he says around the knot in his throat. “Ned’s out of school, so I’ll be in the entertainment room.” 

“Okay—hey. Come here.” Peter reluctantly lets himself be pulled into Tony’s arms. They hug, not a hairsbreadth between them, Peter breathing in the scent of cologne. If he shuts his eyes, he can see Tony collapsed on the floor beside their bed, his blood black in the moonlight, chest open and wet and gaping. Squeezing his eyes shut, Peter tries to think of something else. But Tony knows. He always knows. “It’s okay, Pete. Barnes is here to keep the both of us safe. But you’re the priority.” 

“I don’t have to like it, sir,” Peter snarks. 

Tony tilts his chin up for a peck. Peter’s eyes open to see Barnes standing by the panic room door and yes, he’s watching them. Closing his eyes, Peter threads his fingers through the hairs on the nape of Tony’s neck and goes up onto his toes to keep their mouths connected, spreading his lips and coaxing Tony’s tongue from his mouth to suck on it, feeling the older man’s groan reverberate through his chest. When they part, the both of them are breathing hard. 

Barnes is taking slow, even breaths. Three counts in, four counts out. He’s leaning back against the panic room door watching Peter with a flat, unimpressed look. Peter rolls his eyes. 

“Tony, he’s even more boring than Steve,” Peter complains to his lover in a stage whisper. 

-

“—what do you mean she just wants to—Ned, on your right, coming up the- oh, nice shot—just wants to be friends? She was the one asking you for dick pics. Am I missing something?” Peter says into the comm of his headset. He sits cross-legged on the floor, back pressed against the sofa. “Are friends swapping nudes now?” 

“Not my friends!” Ned insists, voice tinny from the cheap headset he uses. Peter has offered to buy him one multiple times, but Ned insists that the old one is well broken in. Junky, Peter thinks. “I told her I wanted to take it slow—nice, good game, bro—but I didn’t mean this. This is like, all slow, no burn, you feel me?” 

“Oh, I feel—fuck!” When the television goes dark for the loading screen, a figure can be seen standing behind him. Peter wrenches the headset clear off and goes for the gun in the end table drawer, but as soon as he turns, he sees that it’s not (Beck, it’s not Beck, Beck’s dead!) some assassin. At least, it isn’t an assassin who is there to kill him. It’s Barnes. “Jesus Christ! Do you mind? Announce yourself when you enter a room, knock or something.” 

Peter picks up the headset. On the other end, Ned is freaking out. He knows vaguely that Peter’s boyfriend is in shady business (and that’s putting it lightly), knows about what happened last Spring regarding Beck just in the vaguest of terms. But still, he’s a good bro, he’s got a good imagination, and he worries. 

“Sorry Ned, it’s nothing. Just some asshole Tony has keeping tabs on me these days.” He glances over his shoulder but Barnes’s face doesn’t even change. Maybe his eyebrows are a little higher than they were, but nothing in his expression reads displeasure or anger. Just boredom, with maybe a hint of amusement. Peter isn’t the best at reading the nuances of expression; he prefers more straightforward body language. 

Rolling his eyes, Peter turns back to the loading screen and immediately mutes the other players in the lobby so he doesn’t have to listen to any twelve year olds argue over whose mom gives the best blowjobs.

“Whoa, dude, you’ve got a bodyguard now?” Ned asks. “That’s sick.” 

“You want him? I’ll loan him out to you. Twenty dollars.”

“Is he hot?” 

“You’re straight, Ned.” 

“Yeah, but you aren’t. I need data!”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yes, he’s hot.” 

“On a scale of one to ten?” 

Peter turns to appraise the older man. He feels anxious butterflies in his stomach that flap their condor-sized wings when he meets those fathomless eyes that show him absolutely nothing. He makes a show of raking his gaze over Barnes from head to toe, the messy hair that’s an obscene length, the cut jaw, the wide shoulders and trim waist. “Body, ten. Face, ten,” Peter admits. Barnes lifts an eyebrow. “Personality…four.” 

Any amusement drains out of the other man’s face. 

“Ouch,” Ned mutters, though Peter can hardly hear it over his own laughter. 

In four long strides, Barnes passes around the couch Peter sits in front of. He puts one combat boot on the cords coming from the back of the PS4 and Peter has just long enough to cry out an indignant hey! before the foot twists and jerks, pulling the power supply from the game console. The television goes dark. 

“What the hell are you protecting me from right now, bodyguard?” Peter asks, pulling his headset off. “Having a good fucking time? Congratulations! I sure dodged that bullet!” 

“We need to talk,” says Barnes. God, that voice. It’s lethal. He imagines how it’s rough cadence would compliment Tony’s smooth tones, the both of them above Peter, taking him apart, talking a stream of the most toe-curling filth. He blinks the image away.

“I’m way more likely to do what you want if you just ask, asshole,” Peter growls. 

Barnes laughs, a mirthless sound.  “As if, kid. You think I’m stupid? Tony and I spent the whole goddamn morning discussing you and the best way for me to manage you. He made it absolutely clear that you view the simplest requests as challenges, so this is not me asking you to talk. This is me talking. And this is you sitting on your ass like a good little boy and listening to me. Got it?” 

Peter stares, gobsmacked, for one endless moment. Equal parts aroused and furious, watching the scales tip back and forth in his mind, wondering which side will win. “He told you how I treat requests, huh? Did he tell you how I treat demands?” 

Barnes’s eyes narrow—but then Peter is up and vaulting over the couch. He doesn’t expect escaping to be easy (not by a long shot, Peter knows better than anyone how well trained Tony’s men are, how in shape they are) but he doesn’t expect it to be so difficult either. Barnes truly is the Winter Soldier. He takes chase immediately, more instinct than conscious decision, leaping the couch in one graceful movement. Peter can feel the thud of footsteps behind him before he’s even out the door. There’s no chance he can outrun this maniac. 

But Peter has home field advantage. He knows the nooks and crannies, the ins and outs of the place. He doesn’t bother feinting the wrong direction, just puts all of his energy into sprinting down the hallway towards the kitchens and into the pantry. The pantry door can bolt from the inside, all he has to do is reach it and then he can use the secret stairs to go up to the second floor—

He doesn’t even make it that far. One arm, hard as steel, slips around Peter’s waist jerking him back into a chest like a tree trunk. If this were Tony, Peter might be tempted to go lax—Tony spent many months pursuing Peter (literally and figuratively). While they might chase each other sometimes, Peter knows that it’s just to reaffirm Tony’s dominance. But Barnes has no dominance over Peter, yet, and there’s no way in hell Peter is going to let him take it easily. 

He throws his head backwards, but Barnes is so fucking tall that it just hits him in the solar plexus. Barnes drops to his knees taking him to the ground. Peter knows that any fight is almost always over once one opponent is on the ground, so he twists with all the strength he has, nails scratching at the clothed arm that pins him tight. One of his heels comes up to strike the assassin in the balls, and all the breath rushes out of him. He loosens his grip just long enough for Peter to slip away and down the hallway, out into the foyer, and then into the kitchen. 

The door slams on the pantry before Peter realizes—Barnes isn’t giving chase anymore. He pauses, breathing as silently through his mouth as he can, reaching down to adjust his hard-on (Jesus, where had that thing come from? Get it together, Peter!). What’s his play? What’s Barnes doing? Has he given up so easily? 

Peter creeps to the wall that has the secret stairs, slides open the panel and begins to ascend the steep spiral, tip-toeing so as to not make any noise. Upstairs, he slides open the panel that sits just outside his bedroom with Tony and waits, listening. No sound. Not that he’d be able to hear one over the blood rushing in his ears. He sticks his head out to look left and right like a child about to cross traffic—but the hallway is empty. 

Creeping out, he slides the panel closed behind him. He can’t remember if he shut the panel in the pantry, but fuck it. Too late to go back now. Inside his bedroom with Tony is a window that opens up onto the rooftop. It’s easy enough to shimmy his way down the drainpipe and let himself fall the rest of the way into the azaleas. The gardeners hate him, but who fucking cares? 

Opening up the bedroom door—Barnes is there standing out the window, looking out with his hands in his pockets like he’s admiring the view of the lawns and the in-ground pool. He glances back at Peter and gives him a smile like a shark’s. Pointing at the window, he says, “Hey, is this the one you like to sneak out of? Huh.” 

Peter slams the door shut. Heart in his throat, he almost makes it to the stairs when a cord tangles itself around his shins and sends him careening to the carpeted floor. He looks down in horror at the device Barnes has just throw to trip him like Peter is fucking cattle. 

“Did you just use a bolas on me?” Peter says, kicking his legs to free himself. By then, Barnes is on top of him, rolling him onto his stomach and putting a knee into his lower back. The pressure knocks the breath from his lungs. 

“I spent too many years living in Russia to count, kid. In Siberia, the Yup’ik kids play with these like toys.”

“Thanks for the culture lesson,” Peter grits out. His erection grinds harshly into the carpet, and he’s more than tempted to squirm and revel in the friction. God, he’s so turned on. No one in his life has ever made him feel this hot save for Tony. “Mind getting off of me, now?” 

“You done running?” Barnes asks. 

“Get up and find out.” Barnes threads his fingers into Peter’s hair and pulls up. There’s no holding in the moan that slips free of his open mouth. “Harder,” Peter begs, half-joking. Barnes makes a noise in his throat (disgust? Amusement?) before letting go so suddenly that Peter’s forehead nearly kisses the floor. 

“Listen to me, Peter.” Barnes’s voice is close as he speaks almost directly into Peter’s ear, but no matter how Peter shifts, he can’t feel the air from the older man’s breath. Tragic. “Tony warned me about everything. Your favorite ways to sneak out, your favorite hiding spots, all your tricks and games. He told me that you’d be like this, a runner, a fighter. Warned me that you might need put down in submission and shown who is in charge. Consider this in no uncertain terms: I am in charge. I am to keep you safe, and I’m going to do it, no matter what that means. We don’t have to be at each other’s throats as long as you follow the few rules that I have.

���Any move you make, you’re going to run it by me first so that I can take proper precautions to keep you alive. Whatever games you want to play aren’t going to phase me until they endanger you. Then you can expect me to put you down, just like this. Do you understand?” 

Peter’s head feels fuzzy from the adrenalin of the chase and the euphoria of being caught. He can almost see himself pinned there on the floor like a bug beneath the larger man’s shoe, as if he is outside of his own body, but there is no more giddiness or fear. “Yessir,” Peter slurs. He drools on the carpet.

Above him Barnes withdraws from crushing Peter’s pelvis into the floor and Peter wastes no time in grinding his erection into the carpet, groaning as the sensation bursts across his sensitive skin, neurons sparking like fireworks. 

“Jesus, kid,” Barnes mutters. 

“How’s it going?” Tony asks, coming up around the last step of the stairs. He eyes Peter on the floor and his face twists, torn between sympathy and amusement. One of Peter’s hands reaches out, hips arching away from the floor and then back down in an absolutely obscene movement that can be mistaken for nothing besides what it is. “Aww, baby,” Tony purrs, eyes glittering. “Did big bad Bucky put you down? Been a while, huh?”

“To-ny,” Peter whines, far breathier than he’d like. But in this fuzzy place, nothing embarrasses him. When Tony offers Peter a hand, he can’t help but nuzzle against it, the contact burning in the best way. Tony helps him up onto shaky legs and Barnes reaches down to untangle him from the bolas. 

“We’ll be—ah, indisposed for the rest of the afternoon, Barnes, thank you,” Tony says. 

“‘s he coming too, Tony?” Peter asks, looking up the man—Tony! Tony Stark, Peter’s god, his idol, his master, his home and safety.

Tony’s smile wanes. He clears his throat, tucking Peter under his arm while one hand comes up to rub at his sternum the way he does only when the scar beneath his shirt aches. “No, kid. Just us. Bucky will be right outside though, won’t he? Keeping us safe.” 

Barnes nods, his head bowed in deference to Tony as the man passes by, and it’s the last thing Peter sees before the bedroom door closes and Tony becomes the center of his universe. 

[shewritestheblues]

The Elevator Bae x Chapter 1

Welp, I was hoping to recover chapters 1-8 but Tumblr is a hot ass mess with curls. So I’m reposting all of them. Here ya’ go my loves. 

Chapter ONE

Erik x Black OC (Phoenix)

*NO WARNINGS*

Phoenix nods her head to the beat as Nipsey Hussle’s, Hussle & Motivate blast through her speakers. She’s learned to accept LA and all of its traffic. She’s officially been a Los Angeles resident for about a year now. She moved out here from Detroit. Phoenix packed all that she could fit in her small Chevy Cruz and drove the whole way. Life back home in Detroit was getting way too out of hand for her. Her friends didn’t really seem to support her dreams of being a DJ/Music Producer. Her family wanted her to go back to school and be something normal, like a nurse.

Phoenix worked her ass off with two jobs to fund her dream. Big Sean had heard one of her beats on her Soundcloud and reached out to her. That same beat was soon one of the top charting songs in the country. Artist were hitting Phoenix up left and right, wanting to work with her. Hustling her way into the industry, she was asked to DJ a huge party for Roc Nation in LA and the rest is history. After networking and making connections, she decided that staying in Detroit would hold her back. She didn’t even tell anyone that she was leaving… except her Mom.

She woke up one day and just left. She hasn’t looked back yet. Being in LA, she’s actually made a few genuine friends that not only supports her, but ride for her through thick and thin. They even staged a 4 day sleepover one time when Phoenix had an anxiety attack so bad, she couldn’t leave her apartment.

All in all, Phoenix could really say that she was happy.

-----

Phoenix sings along to every song has she moves her way through traffic. After an afternoon full of meetings, she finally reaches her apartment and turns down into the underground parking garage. Her favorite parking spot is open. As she steps out, she adjust her black leggings and cropped Harvard crewneck. She still sings along to the last song that played, Ari Lennox x BMO, now stuck in her head as she heads for the elevator‍.

A man ahead of steps into the elevator first. When he turns and notices her coming behind him, he holds the door for her.

When she looked up to say thank you, she wasn’t prepared for the man standing in front of her. This man… tall, the sweetest brown skin. His arms were definitely trying to break out of the sleeves of his burgundy fitted tee. His short dreads hung over his face, almost covering his eyes. She’s seen some fine guys since being in LA, but this one...he takes the cake.

“Thank...you”

“No problem.”

His voice… his fucking voice. It hit her like thunder. Has she ever heard a voice so damn sexy?

Then it hit Phoenix… jelly legs. She does her best to lean against the elevator door. The man pulls out a keycard and scans it. He must live in a penthouse. Only penthouse tenants had keycards.

“Which floor?”

“Uhh… Seven.”

The man hit the button for the 7th floor for her. As the doors shut, his cologne took the cabin hostage. It was a mix of Shea butter, cedar wood and vanilla. Phoenix hadn’t realized she closed her eyes as she took in his scent. But, he did. He released a low chuckle that took her from her trance. Her eyes shot open. She cleared her throat and tried to focus on a speck of dirt on her Chanel Slides.

The man opened his mouth to say something but before his words slipped, the elevator doors open. FLOOR 7. Phoenix internally panics, not sure if her legs would fail her. This really wasn’t the time nor place for this shit. She goes for it, rushing out. She made it but once she turned to walk to her door, barely out of site from the gorgeous man in the elevator, her knee buckles. She catches herself on the wall.

“Shit!”  She slowly picks herself up, walking slowly to her door. The walk to the other end of the hall felt like 100 damn miles. She made it into her apartment. She drops her keys on the kitchen counter. She flops down on the couch. Dragging her sweaty hands over her face.

“Did I really just sniff this man? Did I really get caught sniffing this nigga?”

——-

The incident ran through her mind probably hundred times throughout the rest of her day. She managed to cook herself some dinner, shower and do a few loads of laundry. With each task, she would stop herself.

“I sniffed this nigga! What is wrong with me? I’m a creep.”

Her brain getting the best of her. She curls up on her couch. She had every intent to catch up on Steven Universe. Her schedule had been so busy that she has weeks of episodes to watch. But she couldn’t focus. All she could think about was this fine man. Why hadn’t she seen him before? And of course that just led back to her thinking about him catching her. She needed a distraction.

Instagram. She picked up her phone and scrolled down her timeline. Her homegirl, Ava, was all over the gram with her new photo shoot. Phoenix left a few comments.

YASSSS BITCH! GO OFF!

REAL HOT GIRL SHIT!

Phoenix continued scrolling. She found her way to her explore page. Liking a few pics of decor and food. And that’s when she saw it. Her ex, Justin, posted with his baby mama. Phoenix broke up with Justin the day before she moved to LA. That same day, she found out he had a baby on the way. That was the extra push she needed to just leave. Justin was her first everything. Her only real boyfriend and he did her dirty. She hadn’t really dated since then. She’d entertain a few of the industry guys that approached her but nothing ever happened. Her feelings were hurt instantly. Even though she had moved on and far away, that shit still stung like it was fresh. She locked her phone. When she needed a distraction, she ain’t mean that. Maybe making a beat would help.

She set up her mini, bootleg studio she created and got to work. It was so easy for her. This was her passion. She even wrote a few lyrics. Time was passing by and before she knew it, it was almost 2am.. she wasn’t surprised at all. She always worked best at night. She was in her zone so she didn’t wanna stop to go to sleep anytime soon.

Phoenix headed to the kitchen. She was going to need some good snacks to match this good creation session she was having. Opening her snack cabinet, she was met with a half eaten bag of plain chips and a pack of Oreos with ONE left.

“Ava is never staying here again. Eating up all my shit.” she says to herself.

She sent her friend a text, not caring that it’s late.

Phoenix: You owe me some snacks you hungry heffa.

Phoenix was determined to finish this night out strong by any means. Even if that means going to the store at 2am. She slid on her FENTY Slides. She refused to put on a bra so she threw on a Nike hoodie and headed out.

——-

The elevator seems to be taking forever. Who in the hell is holding it up this late? Phoenix starts to weigh her options. Tired of waiting, she debates whether she should just go back into her apartment.

DING

Letting out a deep sigh, “Finally!”

Looking up, she freezes. It’s him, sporting a black tank, basketball shorts, Nike socks and slides. He had small scars all over his upper torso and trailing down his arms. She is completely stuck, staring at him.

‘How far down did these scars go?’

The doors begin to close and the gorgeous man stops them with his hand.

“Are you gonna get in or just stand there?” he smiles.

‘HO MY GAWD! Is that gold in his mouth?

Phoenix slowly walks into the cabin. Arms folded over her chest, she stands in the front right corner. Ground Level already highlighted as their stop.

“It’s a little late for you to be out here by yourself ain’t it?” He asks.

Peaking over her shoulder, “I’m good.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, Phoenix could feel him burning a hole in her back with his eyes. She turns to make sure she’s right.

Of course! He’s staring right at her ass. She wants to say something but her words are trapped in her throat. He smiles at her, making her swallow them down and she just looks down at her feet.

“I’m Erik.”

her head snaps back. “Huh?”

“My name. It’s Erik.”

“Oh…Phoenix.”

The elevator doors open. Phoenix waste no time stepping out. Erik is right behind her. He taps her arm, making her jump. Erik was used to women being nervous and awkward around him. He knew he was fine and enjoyed watching women fold before him. He showed his pearly whites, dimples pooling deep,

“Get back here safe, Phoenix.”

Making sure to say her name slowly.

LORDT! The way he said her name made her stomach flip. This man was dangerous. She could tell.

“Uh, you too, Erik.”

She tried to match his tone saying his name. Not wanting to stick around for his response she turns immediately to go to her car. Getting in, she sits. She’s looking out between the rows of cars to see where he went. Some lights flash and soon after, a blacked out Acura NSX with red detailing along the sides, slowly drives by, in front of her. She pretends to not notice, acting as though she’s looking down. She starts her car and pulled out of her parking spot. There’s no traffic but Erik made sure to sit at the parking garage’s entrance until her car pulled up behind him before revving his engine and taking off.

Phoenix rolls her eyes, playfully. “This nigga extra as hell.”

But she knew she liked it. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t let her lie to herself. The short drive to the 7/11 up the street consisted of her wondering where he was going this late and curious to know he’ll be there when she got back.

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Home Movies and Haunted Eyes

If I could save time in a bottle The first thing that I'd like to do Is to save every day till eternity passes away Just to spend them with you

“How come you take so many pictures, anyway?”

Mimi’s hands tightened on her little camera- an old, beaten thing; with a chip on the lens’ plastic casing and the color worn away where it screwed onto the body of the device. She swallowed her tears and smiled at her firehaired sister.

“....Just in case.”

Se asked again, before they got the invitation- why she took so many photos of such... trivial things. Of family lunches on a Monday afternoon. Of Quickdraw laying on his back in the yard to watch clouds, moments before Chrona leapt onto his midsection like a swandive.

“Cause one day, it’s all I’m gonna have left to give you.”, she said quietly- before the door opened and Perceptor dried his eye and croaked her name.

“Th- The memorial, is...”

“The G9 memorial?”

“Y-Yes it’s... Three days.”

Dani and Quickdraw scrambled to their feet, the other siblings seeming to materialize out of the cozy haze of their home as Mimi hugged her father as tight as she could, in arms that life made strong and gentle and warm before she pulled her phone from a pocket.

She spoke in low tones, avoiding Quickdraw’s concern and Chrona’s suspicion until Dani- bright Dani, burning Dani- stomped forward and demanded she answer Quickdraw’s unspoken question.

For the first time, the only time, she snapped at her sister in a voice colder than they’d ever heard.

“It’s a memorial for the fucking DEAD Laudanum, now sit your ass DOWN.”

Percy gently rapped his knuckles against Mimi’s shoulder, trying and failing to scold her with a look as Whirl came in from the backyard and demanded to know what was going on, why Chrona had sprinted onto the deck and hollered for him til she coughed.

Mimi sighed, walking Perceptor to the couch with her voice softened and avoiding the shocked stares of her siblings. She let Perceptor cling to her, let his shoulders shake.

“The memorial for the Garrus 9 mission is in three days.”, she said softly, “And Perceptor is taking it really hard-”

“They-”, he coughed to clear his throat, “They want me to speak. At the service.”

Whirl’s expression softened- stoic and calm; he stepped softly to Perceptor and knelt down, braid swinging in and out of view as his head tilted.

“Are you going to?”

“Y-Yes. I. I owe it to Top Spin, and Twin Twist. And everyone. The crew, I’m-”

“Do you want the family there, Percy?”

“We can’t- We can’t have the children there; I mean, Mimi needs to be, they were...”

“Perceptor; we can’t hide the kids from death forever.”, murmured Whirl, “You and I both know everything’s eventual- one day it’s gonna be us in caskets.”

“But-”

“I want to go.”, blurted Dani, “I mean... I. We don’t.... We don’t really know... anything about the Wreckers that our parents were such good friends with. We don’t know what you went through, and we WANT to, right guys?”

Kickback nodded sharply with arms crossed over her chest, Chrona reappearing and giving a soft “Yeah” into the room as Quickdraw’s eyebrow raised in agreement.

“And, maybe selfishly....”, continued Dani, “...We wanna understand. We know that, like- there’s certain. Alarm tones on our phones we can’t use, cause they make you and Papa Whirl have an attack. Or they make Mimi start crying and we have to get Papa Ratch. We want to understand WHY- the only thing we know of Garrus 9 is what they told us in school.”

“And it wasn’t much.”, Kickback chimed in, to her sister’s relief, “I mean, for God’s sake Papaceptor- My history teacher said you were a reenactment actor when he first met you! This is... kind of our family history, right?”

“In. In a way.”, said Perceptor quietly, “It... certainly had an effect on your family, but you are all so young, I couldn’t-”

“Wreckers take care of their own.”, whispered Quickdraw, with cybernetic eyes narrowed like Whirl’s good eye so often did, “History or not, Papaceptor... You’re hurting. And so is Mimi. And we’re your family, aren’t we? Raised by Wreckers- and Wrecker’s Daughters.”

Perceptor looked at Quickdraw in surprise, Whirl humming in intrigue at his son’s sudden firm stance.

“Mimi taught us all that, remember? Wreckers care for their own. You and Papa Whirl take care of each other and all the dad’s, and they return it. You take care of Mimi and she takes care of you. Mimi... Takes care of all of us. And we’re gonna do the same for her.”

Chrona huffed a laugh, popping up next to Mimi, “Besides, we need to find some sweet blackmail stories on Big Sister over here- not fair she can use my pigtail pics against me!”

Whirl snorted softly, and Perceptor managed a creaky smile, and sighed, “...Alright. I... It would. It would help me keep it together. If my family was with me. All of my family.”

“Then it’s settled.” said Whirl as Drift clattered in through the backdoor, “Make sure to answer with a plus... however many are going. I’m not doin’ math after dealing with a hippy tryin’ to eat the fuckin’ garden AGAIN.”

“I didn’t!”, yelped Drift, trying to pull his dirty shoes off.

“YOU’RE GROWIN’ FUCKIN’ WEED IN THE TOMATOES AGAIN, WHILE EATIN’ ALL MY TOMATOES!”

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Three days came, and went. The family filed out, loading into two vehicles as dawn started to rise over the horizon- showing Perceptor and Whirl and Mimi and Drift in her half-dead four door. Smoke trailed from Perceptor’s cracked window, and Mimi simply pretended not to see him toss half a pack of menthol cygarettes into her glovebox next to a steel lighter.

Whirl made a disapproving noise. Mimi shot him a look. The car went silent.

The drive seemed to take too long, Mimi white-knuckled and Perceptor dead eyed as Drift fidgeted almost uncontrollably. Mimi sighed.

“A couple hits off of ONE, Dri-dri.”, she said sternly, “And try not to ash my upholstery?”

The hiss of a match.

Silence.Mimi glanced in the rearview, seeing Cyclonus smiling in melancholy as he no doubt fielded questions from the siblings in the van as Ratchet drove with his face pensive and dull.

The gates of a graveyard rose high in front of them, and she breathed deep as the wheel creaked from her grip.

“Pull over.”, said Perceptor softly, ice riming the words like they had so very long before this family had been built.

She nodded, waving a hand out her window as she did to signal to the van carrying the rest of them. Perceptor waited until the parking break creaked it’s exhaustion before taking a heavy drag and exhale- before passing it to the side. 

Whirl and Drift looked alarmed as Mimi accepted with hands shaking hard enough to blur.

“Mimosa what in the name of-”

“It’s just something we did.”, was the answer in unison.

Smoke curled around Mimi’s words, she let her eyes drift shut for a moment, and then handed the last drag back to Perceptor. 

“Are we ready, then?”, she asked, rubbing her lips together like she had just applied lip balm to get rid of the nagging tingle.

“As ready as I can be.”

They unbuckled seatbelts and shoved open car doors, stretching in the sunlight as Perceptor and Mimi walked around to the trunk. It clicked with a turn of her key and a tap of a code to show relics of days long forgotten. She helped Perceptor buckle on the old, thin armor- bulletproof and matte dark. She tightened the holsters around his thighs in ritualistic silence as her siblings watched and slowly began to understand.

She stood, and nodded, and turned to let him attack her hair in the same grieving quiet.

Her prosthetics groaned slightly as her weight shifted, her hair slicked back to match her father’s and glasses she rarely wore perched on her nosebridge in a match his scuffed reticule.

“Why are they....”, whispered Drift as Whirl coughed quietly.

“Sign of respect.”, said Whirl, gesturing at his own appearance- his braid and old patch, still emblazoned with the sigil that dominated his past with blood and bullets.

“We’re Wreckers. And you only leave one of three ways. Dishonorable discharge, dementia...”

“Or death.”, said Mimi quietly.

“But... weren’t you vetoed, Whirl?”

“Yep, from a few missions.”, he said, “I was still active on the roster. Still called in a few times between my.... Other activities. But never relieved, never truly removed. Never gone, just put on standby.”

Quickdraw looked at the somber faces, something seeming to click in his head, “.... Are you still on standby now?”

Whirl looked down. Perceptor looked away. Mimi breathed deep.

“Yeah, they are. The Wreckers were never formally dissolved, kiddo.”, she said, “And, by technicality, they could call me in too.”

“But you-”, began Quickdraw.

“It’s the same way Rodimus is a Wrecker.”, she said gently, “He ran with them for a decent while, against the Swarm mostly. But he’s still... Wrecker adjacent, so to speak. They could tap him to replace missing faces on the roster. I was raised on the Trion- Springer’s ship.”

“You knew SPRINGER?!”, squeaked Kickback.

“Yeah, unfortunately.”, she grimaced, “He’s a huge jerk, by the way. Don’t talk to him- he’s never liked Si-si, or Dri-dri, or Papa Birdy.”

“Feelin’s mutual.”

“Whirl, no.”, sighed Drift.

“Anyway... Come on.”, said Mimi, “We’d better get walking.”

“Walking?”

“Bad luck to drive in a graveyard, even if there’s roads.”, said Drift.

“It’s disrespectful too- unless it’s a hearse. Only exception.”, said Perceptor as gravel crunched under their feet, “Mostly because the hearse, or the coffin’s transport in general, is necessary. Bodies are heavy, and caskets are solid.”

“Why isn’t there any hearses around here, then?”, asked Chrona, before feeling the air crack like sugar glass. 

Mimi squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then spoke, “...Because it’s a memorial. For a mission that didn’t let anyone bring any remains home, Chrona.”

Chrona stuttered, and fell quiet. Dani and Kickback reached out in unison, catching Mimi’s hands.

“...Did you and Papaceptor. Know anyone on the mission?”

Mimi felt the air in her lungs chill over, and she nodded, “Yeah, li’l gremlins.”, she said with a weak half smile as her eyes began to leak, “I knew Top Spin, and Twin Twist. And Mister Magnus too. And I knew Rotorstorm, for a little while, and even Pyro and Guzzle and Auntie Verity. You remember Auntie Verity?”

“Yeah.”

“And... Uncle Ironfist. Uncle Fisi, I knew him too. And I... I knew Papaceptor.”

Quickdraw gasped.

“Papaceptor had to go on that mission, you see.”, she said, chest already jumping, “And... And very awful, terrible things happened. And so many people died, for... for nothing, really. For something the government needed.”

The family walked in silence, led by Mimi and Perceptor and the shine of tears.

“And only a few came back. Grandpap Kup. Pap Impactor, who you’ll meet today. Aunt Verity. Uncle Fisi. Springer. And Papa. And Mister Max. You might see him today too.”

The family noticed the crowd, the somber crowd, with Ultra Magnus of the Line Ambus the most somber of all as he stood upon the dais.

“Top Spin and Twin Twist were the first people I called Papa.”, whispered Mimi softly, “Before me and Papaceptor had anybody else.”

She smiled at her siblings, letting go of Dani and Kickback’s hands before hooking her arm with Perceptor.

They walked forward- ignoring salutes and red eyes as they walked up the stairs- weaponry heavy around and under their clothes. Magnus shook each of their hands, and nodded for them to go stand with the rest of the survivors of that ill-fated mission.

Kup patted Perceptor’s shoulder, eyes clouded slightly yet still sharp, and grinned at Mimi around his cigar.

Verity patted the seats next to her, her face lined past its years.

As Magnus’s voice sounded, Mimi let her eyes hover half-closed, letting her head lean against Perceptor’s shoulder as he patted her cold hand.

||She was a child again, patting the console and sobbing- tears were streaming, she had heard Papa’s voice, she HEARD it and why isn’t he home yet. Mister Magnus WHY he was supposed to be home in time for MOVIE TIME, don’t you understand that he PROMISED; you need to go save him! That’s what enforcers do, don’t they?

Her little prayers being met with fear and anxious hushing, the rumble of the engines as they circled the pickup zone frantically searching for a signal- for anything. Any signs of life.

She remembered the carnage come home. She remembered Fisitron and his odd eyes- they shook in place like he was always reading the world- his odd eyes closed and his face sickly pale.

She remembered Verity, blankly wiping smears of blood and tears and saliva from her face and armor and staying so silent no matter how many times Mimi’s tiny voice called her name.

And then Si-si - silent and cold and gone too far away for her to touch. Walking past her with weakening steps as she toddled behind him, calling for her Papa to wait- not so fast, her legs is only little.

“Si-si, why are you crying? Si-si- Don’t cry, I can help!”||

Perceptor patted her hand, seeing tears rolling down her face and she blinked herself back. Mimi looked at him, smiled weakly, and looked away- releasing him to take weakening steps to the podium- to let his voice sound out clarion and cold and edged in ice and blood.

Like it had so long ago.

Her prosthetic legs shifted, and she looked just in front of the popup stage they sat up to see headstones that guarded no bodies. Graves she knew held empty caskets.

She felt her stomach freeze over, felt her eyes dim down like permafrost.

And in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but be surprised her name wasn’t on a gravemarker; to memorialize the childhood that died the day the Wreckers came home.

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part two ~ a residual humming ~

(part one) (part two)

A/N: I wanted to write this second part and get it out as soon as possible. I hope you like it! I have messages/asks open for comments or questions. Be safe!

Summary: George bullies Alex about him mooning over Y/N. Sammy is a bit abrasive, but he gets along with the lads. 

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Some Language. More of My Writing. 

Word Count: 2.2k

Upon entering his apartment, Alex was met with the smell of burning. He turned into the kitchen to see George's back as he stood over the hob with a grim-looking cheese toastie set in a pan.

George did not move when Alex walked in, nor did he indicate he was aware Alex was watching him. His eyes were glued on the sandwich as he poked at it with a wooden spoon, nudging it to be better. But it was too far gone to turn out any better than just edible.

At Alex clearing his throat, George asked, "Where've you been?"

"I grabbed some lunch at Five Guys." He pulled at the collar of his shirt, fanning himself. Taking a bar seat, he continued, "I would've offered to bring something back for you if I'd thought about it."

"Don't worry; no one expects you to think, Alex." George flipped the hob off and turned around to grab a plate set out on the counter. He used the wooden spoon to scrape the toastie from the pan as the burnt cheese clung on.

Neither spoke as George performed this careful and intricate extraction.

Though it was just so entertaining to watch his flatmate work around his terrible cooking skills, Alex found his thoughts wandering off. It was subconscious thinking. Or can thinking be subconscious versus conscious? Alex was not sure. All he knew was he was not thinking about what to think. Nor were his thoughts connecting along with one another. It was random.

Sparks of this feeling and that. Questions neither answered nor fully asked before another came along. Mostly, it was him reviewing everything he said earlier to Sammy and Y/N.

“Why go by Red?” Why did I ask that? Stupid.

While a small voice shouted, it worked out! There was too much of a ruckus elsewhere in his mind to give that small voice a chance.

Plate in hand, George started in the direction of his bedroom perhaps in hopes he could eat in peace while hunched over his keyboard like a gremlin.

"You know quiche?" Alex piped up.

"It's like egg-casserole, innit?"

"Right. It's a breakfast food, wouldn't you think?"

"Eggs normally are, yes." George stopped, and it was there in his eyes, the realization that he would not be escaping a conversation. He turned to take a bar seat and began eating in small quick bites. Like a mouse.

"I invited someone round to watch football with us later."

"Who? You don't have friends besides Will and them lot."

"I met him this afternoon. His name's Sam, but he goes by Sammy."

"How did you manage to shut up long enough to catch his name?" George coughed on his food – tasting the evident lack of love cooked into it. "And why does he sound like a golden retriever?"

"He is blond like a retriever. He and Y/N are moving-in right above us."

"Is this Y/N coming too?" George waggled his eyebrow.

The knowledge that George had a girlfriend and more so the identity of said girlfriend was on a need to know basis. As were most aspects of George's life: surname, physical appearance, etc. He knew just as well as anyone that Alex was alone – not a sad kind of alone but a neutral kind.

A girlfriend (or boyfriend) could be fantastic for views. But he did not need one. He was a functioning adult. Independent financially and physically. With an exceptional support system of friends. Alex was full and complete by himself.

And he believed that because it was true.

However, it did not stop him from yearning. It did not stop him from feeling like he might sleep better if he had someone's chest to cuddle; it did not stop him from imagining it was someone else's fingers running through his hair in moments of grief.

"Y/N is Sammy's girlfriend, and she wasn't into me—it rather. She wasn't into it."

"It's his girlfriend, mate. Of course, she isn't into you."

"Not like that. Y/N didn't even look at me, like me being there was making her ill."

"What did you expect? To go-" George, in his mocking, pitched his voice higher, "Hello, I'm internet sensation imallexx, and she falls to her knees to start sucking you off?"

Alex made a face, letting his features relax into a deadpan expression.

George continued unbothered, "Why do you care if the girlfriend likes you?"

"It wasn't dislike; it was discomfort. I'm not someone who makes people uncomfortable, am I? That doesn't make sense, not with all those imallexx is baby edits and uwu soft boi collages."

"Uwu soft boi?"

"Piss off. You know what I mean."

Giggling to himself, George finished eating and stood up. He took his plate, dropping it into the sink, he caught Alex's expression – still somber.

Seriousness was not something either flatmate expressed on the regular, or if it was, it would not be for long. There might be some argument to be made there. That neither man felt comfortable in serious situations because their insecurities about being shorter than average (or about having generous natures) made it difficult for them to see themselves as worth being taken seriously.

Or maybe that argument would be off base and a load of shit—who knows.

"Everyone I've seen you meet in person liked you – just got one of those likable faces, I guess. Plus, you're entertaining and that. I've never known you to make people uncomfortable." George paused. "You'd have to be a real dick to go after another bloke's girl. But I'm sure she'd like talking to you again...if that's what you wanted."

"I don't know what I want to happen, George."

"Well, figure it out. And if Sam does opt into a few rounds of FIFA, I'm not letting him beat me."

"It's Sammy."

"Ok." George walked in the direction of his bedroom. "Sammy. Sammy. I can remember that."

~LATER~

It was adrenaline-fueled cheers, heated debates over pizza toppings, clever and scathing remarks, all in addition to an absurd amount of drinking. And the aftermath was a residual humming of endorphins.

Newcastle lost: no surprise there.

Electronic noises sounded from the television at full volume but, having to travel through the thick wave of inebriation and exhaustion in the room, it all registered as dull pings. Will and George were the two holding controllers and involved in the head-to-head battle unfolding on-screen.

Sitting next to one another on the sofa highlighted the stark differences in their composure and dedication. George sat leaning forward enough to be considered doubled over with an iron grip on his controller. Will leaned back with one hand on the controller and the other taking the occasional swig from the beer he otherwise held between his legs.

Throwing back drink after drink, Sammy occupied the third sofa cushion. He admitted earlier in the night that he never played FIFA before; he watched the television with interest and set focus. Blush and all, he looked alert and strong even after winning the shot contest between himself and James.

James – on the other hand – was flat on his back on the floor in front of the coffee table with his eyes closed. He had not spoken up in a while, but Alex was sure he was still awake – like 60% sure.

"—in the frame for half a second. If that!" Alex struggled to control the volume of his voice as he spoke with excitement, "And not twelve hours later, I see a screenshot of them on a fetish instagram account."

"What the fuck?" Sammy laughed through the question.

"That's what I said!"

Will, confident he could win against George without paying much attention, spoke up, "I tried to go legit with selling feet pics once for a video."

Sammy's jaw dropped. "You're joking."

"Swear on my life." Will crossed his heart with his hand.

"It was with socks on." Alex stood up from the armchair and stumbled to the kitchen to pour himself another shot. Deciding on a clear liquor, he poured and downed it before finishing his thought, "Having socks on—that's not the same. Not at all."

"Nice dress-socks! I had production value, I did. Unlike you with those hobbit feet."

Alex held himself steady against the kitchen counter. With ears lit up red like traffic lights, he stared into the air with a blank expression for half a minute before shaking his head as if coming up from some dark, treacherous waters. Gaining some composure, he shuffled back to the armchair and collapsed onto it. He said his peace on the issue, "Don't be an ass."

"The only fun way to be," Will muttered as he knocked back a bit of his beer.

Despite watching Alex cross the room with particular concern, Sammy reentered the conversation in a casual tone and manner. "Wait. Your feet are just out there in the open for weird foot fetish guys to jack off to?"

"Guys jack off to Alex all the time," said George. He did not remove his eyes from the television as the electronic sounds coming from the game took a discordant turn. "He's an LGBT icon."

Alex gritted his teeth at the comment. "Stop."

"Oh?" From the sofa, Sammy raised his head, shifting his posture and pulling himself up into a proper seated position. "You're gay?"

George started, "Well, he's b—"

"Yes." Alex cut him off. Sometimes it was easier to just be “gay” than to get specific with someone who might not understand or even accept further explanation.

It went quiet, save the electronic noises of George getting his ass kicked at FIFA. George, too focused on losing and being offended from getting cut-off, and James having been down for the count for the last hour, were unaware of the turn the conversation had taken and were spared from the rising uneasiness.

Will and Alex were in the thick of it. Alex shot worried glances in Will's direction. Will set his jaw and nodded with reassurance back to Alex.

Sammy breathed out an, "Oh."

"Is that an issue?" Alex asked.

"God, no. It's a relief!" Sammy slouched into the back of the sofa. "Don't have to be worried about you trying to chat up Red."

Will looked agitated (maybe at the choice of words or the hesitation). His forehead scrunched-up, and his posture tensed with rigid shoulders and arms. He asked with a forced ‘normal-sounding’ tone, "Who's Red?"

"My girlfriend – she's a fucking bitch, but like my bitch, you know?"

Alex was not sure which part of the whole thing he was most uncomfortable with...until he decided. It was the bitch comment. 

It was the bitch comment by far.

No one in that room – as far as he knew – had ever straight-out name called their girlfriend like that. Not George about [REDACTED]. Not Will about Mia. Not James about Aria. And certainly not Alex about his past partners.

To be fair there were a handful of times, he or his friends had considered how their partner was acting as being bitchy. Still at the heart of all their relationships was a respect for the other person and the courtesy to not leave for the evening (to watch football or whatever) without at least attempting to work things out – smooth things over even the tiniest amount.

"I thought her name was Y/N," said George.

Sammy hurled an expression that asked how would you know and all but dared George to ask him another question. "It is. But when we met, I called her Red, and now she goes by Red."

"Why?"

Sammy ignored that George had spoken at all. Luckily, it was just a few awkward seconds between Sammy clamming up and someone else speaking.

"Mac 'n cheese! Fuck!" James shouted as his eyes shot open, and he sat up from the floor. "Doesn't mac 'n cheese sound good right now?" He turned his attention to Alex and snapped finger guns at him. "You have any mac 'n cheese?"

"No, James," Alex growled; he rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes with too much pressure.

Sammy interjected with cheerfulness in his voice, "I like mac 'n cheese with some marshmallow fluff."

"Fuck yes!" James whipped around to face Sammy (whom he probably did not recognize at that moment nor remember meeting just hours before) and somehow got louder. "We gotta get some!"

"Let's go." Sammy did not move to stand.

"You're so chill," mumbled James. As unexpected as it was for him to pop-up, James hit the ground again, closing his eyes. He was out.

"Anyone willing to be talked at by Alex for an entire evening has got to be," remarked George with a humorless laugh.

"Reel it back a bit," Will warned before Alex might have come back with something worse.

"Yeah," Sammy teased, "how much you down now, George? £200 last I checked."

"Will's cheating."

Will took a swig from his beer. "Mate, I'm too pissed to be cheating."

"Whatever."

"Check it." Will shifted in his seat as on-screen, he scored the final goal of the game. Triumphant electronic noises blasted from the television as he raised his long arms up in the air, pumping his fist once. twice. three times.

He got up to high-five Alex and Sammy, who wore over-excited smiles across their flushed faces. And just like that, the evening was over.

[soumenoraw09]

How can I lose weight quickly? The most effective method to Lose Weight Fast — Quick and Easy Weight Loss Tips

Shed 5 pounds in a single week! It’s a figure of speech we see all over the place. And keeping in mind that it’s conceivable that somebody can lose that much in that time-frame, it truly relies upon your digestion and heaps of different variables remarkable to you, including actual work and body structure.

The eating routine itself can fool you into believing that this eating style is working — when truly, you may restore what you lost when you eat carbs once more. That can feel unbelievably demoralizing in the event that you need results that last more than seven days.

In light of my involvement with sustenance directing, a large portion of us will in general nibble on food varieties that aren’t supplement thick, yet are high in calories. Significant offenders frequently come as refined grains like oats, chips, wafers, and treats yet additionally calorie-pressed beverages like juice and pop.

Skirting sweet drinks is regularly the least demanding approach to get more fit quicker. You don’t feel full from drinks, so trading those out for shining water or unsweetened tea and espresso is the best spot to begin.

take 28 days challenge weight loss (click here)

1. Concentrate on eating quality food sources, not including calories.

Yes, that implies try not to crunch the numbers. All things considered, put your consideration toward consolidating more organic products, veggies, protein sources, and entire grains into your eating regimen, says Wendy Leonard, RD, author of Rhode Island Nutrition Therapy. Ya know, food varieties with heaps of supplements and nutrients.

In the event that you center around the nature of food, there’s a decent possibility you’ll eat more supplement thick choices that leave you satisfied, adds Lauren Sullivan, an enlisted dietitian with Cleveland Clinic’s Center for Human Nutrition. This can mean normally eating less calories without having to overthink it.

Checking calories can remove the pleasure from eating, Zeitlin says. It can likewise prompt an undesirable fixation on remaining under a specific carbohydrate level or working out to consume calories. Considering food and not a mathematical question can tackle those issues.

Need some more explicit ideas? Loneke Blackman Carr, PhD, RD, right hand teacher of local area and general wellbeing nourishment at the University of Connecticut suggests looking at the Dietary Guidelines for Americans to figure out how to assemble a fair, supplement rich plate.

2. Try not to skip meals.

Overlooking your appetite is never a smart thought since your body capacities best when you eat at normal stretches during the day, says Alicia Romano, RD, a clinical enlisted dietitian at the Frances Stern Nutrition Center at Tufts Medical Center in Boston, Massachusetts. Doing so assists with controlling your glucose so you can keep away from the spike and crash that accompanies eating a major dinner on an unfilled stomach.

Eating routinely likewise keeps you stimulated and less inclined to nibble on sweet stuff for the duration of the day, Zeitlin says. “Feeling languid and blah triggers you to search for helpful in and out food choices.” To be clear: These food sources aren’t “terrible food sources,” and you don’t have to keep away from snacks or bundled merchandise to get more fit. Zeitlin takes note of that you ought to eat this (and any kind of food) carefully and when you really need it, not on the grounds that your body is denied and desiring energy.

Zeitlin prescribes eating each three to four hours for the duration of the day. Regardless of whether that is a tidbit or supper, it’s just about placing some sort of energy into your body..

3. Eat foods grown from the ground with each feast.

Indeed, your mother was correct (once more). Foods grown from the ground are useful for you, and we as a whole most likely need to eat a greater amount of them.

Vegetables — particularly non-bland vegetables like spinach, asparagus and celery — give a huge load of supplements and fiber, clarifies Leonard. Fiber eases back the absorption interaction and upgrades completion and supplement admission at supper time, so eating it at each feast can help you feel satisfied longer in the wake of eating, Romano adds.

Eating an eating regimen wealthy in foods grown from the ground has likewise been demonstrated to support wellbeing otherly, with contemplates discovering defensive advantages against coronary illness and type 2 diabetes, Williamson says.

So what amount would we say we are talkin’? “A large portion of your plate ought to be foods grown from the ground,” Williamson says. The rest ought to be a quarter protein and a quarter entire grains. Obviously, this is anything but an immovable principle, however generally isolating your plate into these extents can help you ensure you’re eating supplement rich plants at each supper.

4. Keep a food diary.

On the off chance that writing down all that you eat in a day causes you to feel regretful or restless, skirt this completely. All things considered, individuals who track what they eat (as in food varieties not calories) will in general be more fruitful in shedding pounds since it brings issues to light about the thing they’re noshing on, says Elizabeth Mayer-Davis, PhD, an enrolled dietitian and seat of the Department of Nutrition at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Indeed, a progression of studies distributed in the Journal of Personalized Medicine recommend that those utilizing applications to screen their eating regimen and action were bound to encounter an increment in weight reduction.

Zeitlin suggests keeping a food diary where you record what you eat at every dinner and nibble and when. That way, you can think back and learn in the event that you’re truly eating however many veggies as you might suspect you are or in the event that you’re eating consistently or coincidentally skipping dinners on occupied days.

You can likewise attempt a photograph food diary application like Ate Food Journal, Leonard recommends. She noticed that individuals will in general like this methodology better on the grounds that opening an application and snapping a fast pic is way less monotonous than recording every last insight regarding your suppers for the duration of the day. Also, it’s similarly as successful

5. Reconsider your beverages.

You don’t have to remove liquor to get thinner, and having a Coke won’t destine your weight reduction objectives. In any case, it is a smart thought to know about the thing you’re burning-through and realize that your beverages might be a greater wellspring of calories than you understand — and possibly something you wouldn’t actually miss all that amount on the off chance that you traded for water or seltzer and lime.

Leonard suggests wiping out or definitely lessening how much alcohol you drink a little while to perceive how you feel. The experience could make you consider switching around your drinking propensities on the off chance that you notice an improvement in your personal satisfaction with less assimilating.

6. Focus on protein and entire grains.

We previously discussed foods grown from the ground, however we need to sing the gestures of recognition of protein and entire grains as well.

Protein is a significant macronutrient that our bodies need to work appropriately. It’s a decent wellspring of energy, and it requires a moment for our bodies to process it, which implies it gives a consistent wellspring of energy.

When matched with starches, which rush to process, everything moves a little more slow — which causes us to feel satisfied and keeps us full for more. Additionally, in case you’re working out, protein will be considerably more essential to help revamp your muscles and keep you moving and getting more grounded

7. Drink more water.

The best sub for sweet or boozy beverages? Plain ol’ H2O. Remaining hydrated can really help you feel less swelled and full and simply keep your body running similar to a well orchestrated symphony.

Drinking water can likewise assist you with getting tune with your craving signals. “Our bodies will in general feel hungry when we’re really parched, so when you’re not drinking sufficient water for the duration of the day, you may believe you’re eager and reach for additional bites when truly you simply need a glass of water,” Zeitlin clarifies. On the off chance that you know you’re a hydration sovereign, you’ll know a food craving implies you’re really eager and need to eat.

8. Continue to eat the food varieties you love.

You totally ought not deny yourself of the food sources you love to get more fit. Truth be told, proceeding to eat your faves can help you arrive at your objectives.

In the event that you allow yourself to continue to eat your top picks, you can fulfill your longings without gorging. In case you’re zeroing in on eating supplement rich, useful for-you food varieties most of the time, that treat or donut or frozen yogurt dessert won’t prevent you from getting in shape. Additionally, appreciating what you burn-through is sound as well

9. Overlook the scale.

On the off chance that you get on a scale each and every day for an entire week, it will show you an alternate number each day. There are a ton of things that can impact the amount you gauge — like how much water your body is clutching. Eating a great deal of sodium, not dozing enough, and exercise would all be able to affect water maintenance and change the number on the scale. It’s simply not a decent marker of your genuine body weight.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

CSI Rogers and Barnes Ch12: An Excelsior Turn Of Events

Part 1 Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Episode Summary: Steve, Katie and Bucky head to Tony’s lab to find out what was on that Pen-Drive. Fury’s back, being Fury and then they discover some other stuff that’s gonna make you all go “arrrrrrgh!”

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words.

Episode Pairings:  Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Song for Episode:  A Thousand Trees by Stereophonics

A/N: This is another LONG chapter guys, but there’s a LOT going down as we really are ramping up to blowing this popsicle stand (Or case…) Again we’ve split into 2 parts for you to read either all at once or separately, however you wish.

Oh, and we KNOW Steve was in a uniform here, and not a suit, but damned the only pics out there of the beautiful bastard in a police uniform are when he has that damned moustache (huh? you know I’m talking to you…) so, yeah, we used one of him in a suit because like who CARES?????

With a special birthday dedication to the handsome man himself, and of course the beautiful @jtargaryen18​

As always we live for re-blogs and comments

Series Master List  // Main Masterlist

It only takes one tree to make a thousand matches, only takes one match to burn a thousand trees

When Steve, Katie and Bucky arrived at the lab and entered the main room they found Banner, who was reading something on a computer screen while muttering something unintelligible.

"Good afternoon Bruce. Trouble experimenting?" Katie greeted the scientist.

"What? Oh… hi Katie." he stuttered as he stood up and approached her reaching his hand to greet her. "I was just.... I was just thinking I have to heat up the cube to 120 million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier." he explained absentmindedly fiddling with the reading glasses he had just taken off.

Katie looked at him puzzled. "The what?"

"Are you trying to achieve heavy ion fusion?" Bucky suddenly asked.

"Oh hi, Sergeant Barnes. Captain." Bruce greeted both men when he acknowledged their presence. "Yes, you could say that. Just on every reactor in the lab." he answered Bucky's question to what the Sergeant nodded knowingly.

"What just happened?" Steve whispered leaning over Katie who simply shrugged.

"Look, Bruce. We really need to speak to Tony. Is he in?" she asked.

"Oh sure. Yes, he's in his office. You know the way." he said pointing at one of the corridors with his glasses.

Steve and Katie nodded at the scientist before heading towards Tony's office. Bucky followed their steps after patting Bruce on the back and stating "I've read about your work in antielectron collisions. It is unparalleled."

Both Katie and Steve turned to look at Bucky giving him a questioning look.

"What? I do my readings." he shrugged as if it was something so obvious he couldn't be bothered explaining.

When they got to Tony's office, they could hear him talking to someone on the phone. His voice getting louder as Katie knocked on the door twice, before cracking it open just a bit. Tony looked up as she turned and gestured with her head for Steve and Bucky to follow he in.

"Of course you can quote me on that, I just said it." Tony waved, greeting them and signalling for them to take a seat as he finished talking on the phone. He surely wasn't amused by the person at the other end of the line, as he rolled his eyes continuously and sighed when he finally hung up.

"Sorry, that was the wedding planner. Told her to tell the man at the venue to go to hell..." he offered, while rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Wedding planner?" Katie asked, surprised.

"Oh right, yeah, we've set a date..." Tony explained. "Maybe if you were home some time, I could have told you earlier." he added grabbing a foil packet from his desk as Katie rolled her eyes and took a breath at her brother’s snarky comment. Steve gently rubbed her back, signalling for her not to rise to his bait.

"Blueberries?"  Tony offered his guests. But they all refused with a nod of their heads, so he leaned his head back and

"Weddings are great" Bucky said with a huge grin. When he felt everybody staring at him, which was happening a lot that day, he added "As long as they're not yours..."

"You're invited Manchurian candidate and your Toy Boy " Tony snorted.

"What?" Bucky asked with a frown.

"Yeah, Doc is invited too..." Tony replied, a knowing smile spreading on his face.

Bucky was going to ask Tony what he was trying to imply when the landline on his desk started ringing.

"Sorry guys..." he apologised as he pressed the button to answer. "Stark...Yes, hold please..." and he pressed the button again.

"He likes to watch the light blink" Katie explained to Steve and Bucky who were looking at each other.

"Yup. Why are you guys here so late anyway?" Tony asked, sitting on his office chair.

"We need to speak to you, Tony..." Steve trailed off as Tony frowned.

"Oh God..." Tony looked at Katie "You're pregnant aren’t you..."

"What? No..." she protested.

But Tony ignored her, glaring at Steve instead "You knocked her up?"

"Not that strange an idea considering the amount of times they..." Bucky opened his big mouth to speak.

"Shut the fuck up Bucky!" both Katie and Steve shouted at the same time.

There was a pause as everyone fell silent.

"This is serious Tony..." Katie finally said.

"I went to see Fury today...." Steve helped her.

"Oh, how's the Goth Pirate doing?" Tony asked casually.

Bucky sniggered. He knew Howard had been close to Fury and therefore Tony and Katie had known and been around him since they were kids.

"For once in your life will you shut up and listen?" Katie was starting to lose her patience.

Bucky saw that Tony had noticed Katie's facial expression and frowned, suddenly concerned "What's the matter kiddo?"

"Fury gave me this..." Steve said, showing Tony the pen-drive.

"What's on it Cap?" Tony asked, looking between the Captain and the pen-drive on his hand.

"We don't know yet." Steve replied.

"Yet?"

"It's encrypted." Katie explained.

"So take it to tech..." Tony said leaning back on the chair and crossing his arms.

"When it arrived Fury opened it. Before the encryption started scrambling there was a clear message that it be handed to Katie and only Katie because it concerns..." Steve trailed off.

"It concerns stuff about Dad." Katie finished for him.

At that Tony frowned, not understanding where she wanted to get "Dad?"

"Yeah...Fury thinks... " Katie took a deep breath before continuing. "He thinks that mom and dad’s deaths might not have been accidental."

"That's absurd..." Tony frowned.

"Maybe, but until we open it we won't know..." Katie looked at him.

Tony took the stick and looked at it. "And there were no clues, nothing, zip, nada as to who sent it?"

"Nope. Might as well have been delivered by a ghost..." Katie sighed.

"Well, let's see what the ghost wants." Steve said with determination, nodding at the pen-drive.

Tony plugged the stick in and they all watched as the screen filled with a load of random numbers, which didn't seem to make much sense to any of them, nor did they appear to look like they were going to stop filling the screen randomly anytime soon.

Tony started talking about running an algorithm or something to crack it, much of the jargon he used was alien to Steve but he did remember what Fury had said about the message on the pen-drive, “My guess is it will be a date or a combination that means something to Stark.”  But so far Katie looked as lost as he was as she was staring at the screen intently frowning.

"This requires insight" Tony mused "It looks like the programme the CIA uses to choose targets."

"They look like random numbers to me." Bucky quipped leaning over Katie's and Tony's heads.

"They're not random...there's a pattern." Katie muttered without taking her eyes from the screen.

"Like what, what do they represent?" Tony asked, looking at her.

"They don't represent a thing...it's what's missing." Katie explained, borrowing a notepad and a pen from Tony's desk and scribbling something.

Steve frowned at what she said and then spotted what she was trying to say "There's no 6s or 1s..."

Tony and Bucky pointed at the same time "4s....0s..."

"Exactly..." Katie said, as she wrote down the different possible combinations with the missing numbers.

"What the hell..." Bucky asked, watching her stop at one combination as she drew a circle around it.

Katie simply grinned at him and looked at Tony, showing him the notepad "14.605..."

"What are the dots?" Bucky asked.

“A stuffed Llama…” Steve muttered and Bucky glared at him as he shrugged, a small smile flickering across his face.

“She’s not a llama she’s a goat…” Bucky started to argue until Katie shook her head.

"Whatever she is it doesn’t matter as they aren't dots, they’re zeros. Actually, it should read 14.605.000" she said looking at Bucky and then at Tony.

"Fuck, of course..." Tony said with eyes wide open as Bucky looked at Steve, who simply shrugged. He had no idea what that number meant but clearly it was significant to the siblings. Tony nodded at Katie "Go on, type the numbers."

Just as Katie had finished typing the last digit the numbers on the screen stopped moving and the image faded to black for a couple of seconds. Everyone in Tony's office was holding their breaths when a video recording started, showing a white haired old man with a wrinkled face, with a beard and a moustache. His eyes tiny and sparkling behind his smoking glass glasses.

"Do you know him?" Steve asked.

Katie shook her head slowly, looking at the screen while sweeping through her memories trying to find something that stated the contrary.

"Wait. I've seen that guy." Bucky intervened. " I just can't seem to figure out where from..." he mused.

"Miss Stark. Please listen carefully as following this message the drive will wipe. I knew your father, he was a good man and I'm hoping I can trust you like I trusted him. I've been watching the case from afar, hoping I was wrong but after the latest killings it all seems to be leading to one conclusion. We need to speak in person. You can contact me on the following number to arrange to meet but we have to be discreet....."

Katie grabbed a pen and rapidly scribbled down the number the man was showing on a piece of paper he was holding up to the camera with both hands.

"Take care Miss Stark, and trust no one...."

And with that, the screen went still and the drive wiped.

"So this adorable grandpa knew dad?" Tony asked.

"Apparently...is he from the police?" Katie asked, turning to look up at Steve.

"I don't know. I've never seen him, and I spent a lot of time with Howard" he replied as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"But I have...he's been at every crime scene to date...like some kind of dead famous actor or a series creator, you know, when they get to do cameos for fun..." Bucky suddenly quipped, everyone looking at him in disbelief.

"That told us nothing...I thought you said Fury told you it contained information?" Katie protested, looking at Steve, frowning.

Now she was snapping at him, but Steve didn't take it to heart. He knew she was pissed and he could understand where she was coming from. It had been an exhausting day for both of them but more to her and alone the fact that her parents could have been murdered was more than enough to rile her let alone everything else that had happened. To say she had the right to be angry and frustrated would be an understatement.

"He did, that's what he thought..." Steve replied cautiously.

"I mean we don't even know who the fuck he is!" she snapped again.

Steve was about to say something to appease her anxiety but just as he squeezed her shoulder Bucky spoke.

"One way to find out, Doll face..." he interjected. “Call him."

So Katie picked up the phone on Tony's desk. Steve, Bucky and Tony looked at her expectantly but Katie frowned as soon as she put the earpiece close to her ear  "Yeah, he'll call you back..." she told the person who had been on hold all that time before pressing the button to finish the call.

"Oh, shit...I  forgot...I like the red light..." Tony apologised. Steve saw Katie take a deep breath before calling the number and putting the call on speaker. As soon as it picked up a robotic voice said "Meet me tomorrow, 2pm at Green-Wood Cemetery. Bring no one but the Captain."

The recording finished and only white noise could be heard. Katie slammed her hand against the button to end the call. She was about to explode, Steve could tell as she stood up straight and tried to call the number again, but nothing came from the other end of the line.

"Burner." Steve sighed. "Chances are he's destroying it as we speak." he said hugging her from behind and placing a kiss on her head.

"FUCK!" Katie yelled, slamming the handset down. "We know nothing more than we did before!"

"Ok Kiddo, I want you to go home and rest. There's nothing else you can do now." Tony tried to calm her. "Are you coming with me tonight or shall I rent your room to someone else?" he continued, testing the waters with his joke.

"Right, coz you're definitely running a bed and breakfast." she repeated the same exact words Tony had been bugging her with for the past week.

"Well, it's not like I see much of you lately. Not even managed to tell you all about how I’m having a civil war with the venue guy or that we set a date yet" Tony whined. "Come on, Pepper will be thrilled to share the details with you. Although I'm warning you, you may need to put your shades on to look at the new rock I bought her."

“You bought her a new rock?” Bucky frowned “Why would you do that?” “Because it was a few years old and…well we should have set a date ages ago so I kinda re-proposed…”

"And that's my brother for you, ladies and gentlemen." Katie snorted. “Ostentatious bastard…” “Don’t start snapping at me!” Tony looked at her, his own temper flaring slightly “Look, I’m as pissed as you are, especially if this guy has information on mom and dad, they were my parents too you know…” “Oh get to fuck Tony!” Katie snarled “You’re such a-“ “Ok, ok…” Steve said, stepping in quickly before the pair of them really went at each other. They were so different yet in other ways extremely similar, and both had developed that infamous Stark temper from Howard, along with his stubborn streak, which made for some spectacular brother-sister arguments as he had seen many a times over the past decade. But now wasn’t the time. They were going to need each other, and he didn’t want them at odds. He turned to Katie, his hands falling to her shoulders "Tony's right, doll. Go home. Spend some time with Tony and Pepper. It'll do you good." he encouraged, trying not to push too much.

Steve knew she was restless enough as it was but, although he'd be more than glad to spend the night with her at his place, he also knew being with her family would be a perfect distraction for her already distraught mind. God, it was only half past six but he had the feeling his meeting with Fury had been weeks ago. Could anything more happen in a day?

Steve saw Katie hesitate and decided to help Tony out. He knew the man needed his sister as much as she needed him.

"Look, we can't do anything more until tomorrow, sweetheart, you should go..." Steve said, taking both her hands in his.

She bit her lip and looked at him until Tony spoke.

"Cap, you can come too...if you want." he shrugged, sensing Katie's hesitancy.

"YESSSSS BOY!" Bucky suddenly shrieked with joy at the fact he had the apartment to himself as he fist pumped in the air but a second later he stilled, pouted and jokingly asked "What about me?"

"Go to the mortuary or something, I dunnno, wherever you and Sam...." Tony deadpanned, waving his hand. "And for fucks sake stop eating my blueberries!"

"Erm, are you sure Tony?” Steve asked. In all honesty he was taken aback by Tony's offering, was that an olive branch? Well, if it was, he would be more than happy to take it as the prospect of spending his free time away from Katie was really not all that great.

Tony shrugged “Well you two are…you know, together. And I suppose you’re better than Shitweasel…”

“Yeah as far as bars go, that’s not particularly high…” Katie frowned. Tony glared at her and Steve once more jumped in.

“Well, that would be great " he nodded, “It’ll be nice to spend some time with you and Pepper. I just need to nip home first thought and get some stuff..."

"Like you need clothes." Tony scoffed, earning a glare from Katie and a snigger from Bucky which  made him turn to look at him again "I told you to stop eating my blueberries, Robocop!"  

Steve rolled his eyes "I'm not sitting all night in my uniform."

"Yeah, as long as you don't sit on my sister." Tony muttered.

"What?" Steve asked.

"Oh, I was just thinking out loud." Tony brushed him off. "See if I could find something in my closet that fitted you. But then again it might not be spangly enough for your liking”

**** "What a sight for sore eyes, young lady." Pepper teased Katie as soon as they walked into the apartment.

They had dropped Bucky at the flat earlier and Steve had changed into a more casual and less conspicuous outfit and  grabbed his overnight bag, one he would have never in a million years imagined he would be taking to Tony's. Katie's car remained back at Sarah's. Seeing the events of the day they had decided it would be better if she didn't drive. They would sort that out the next day, after meeting their new informant.

"You only saw me on Friday, remember?" Katie protested as she hugged her brother's fiancé.

"You're right. And from what I've heard a lot of things have happened since then. Hi, Steve." Pepper said before moving to hug Steve, who greeted her back.

"You could say that." Tony said, entering the living room. "But the prodigal son, sorry daughter, returns. Much to her brother's joy."

"Oh, cut the crap Tony. I saw her on Friday! It’s only Wednesday!" Katie glared at her brother.

"Don't mind him and make yourselves at home." Pepper said, inviting them to take a seat on the couch. "I'll take your bag to Katie's room." she offered Steve, who handed her the bag after thanking her. He had always liked Pepper and how easily she could handle Tony.

"Drinks?" Tony asked. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. In the meanwhile... Gin, Kiddo?"

"Always." Katie answered.

"Rogers?" he asked, looking at Steve as he prepared Katie's drink.

"I'll have a beer, thanks." he answered, trying to suppress the feeling of awkwardness of being at Tony's as his sister's boyfriend.

"Somebody told me you had a big blinding rock to show me." Katie told Pepper as soon as the woman was back in the living room.

"You know your brother. He likes to push the boat out." she said stretching her hand for Katie to look at the ring.

"It's an exclusive cut. The Infinity Stone." Tony boasted.

Steve looked at Katie and he could instantly tell she really couldn't be less interested, instead she rolled her eyes at her brother's bragging. She made a comment about it being very big, more out of courtesy than because she really liked those flashy pieces of jewellery, Steve knew she wouldn't like anything so gaudy. Wait, why was he thinking about that? He tried to wipe the image of his mother telling him about the ring out of his mind and focus on the conversation Katie, Tony and Pepper were engaged in.

"So, you finally set the date?" Katie asked the couple, who grinned at her excitedly.

"Yup. 20th December. Pepper wanted a Christmas wedding." Tony explained.

"That is not entirely true, Tony" Pepper protested. "I wanted for us to get married as soon as possible and your brother suggested we could do it right before Christmas." she explained to Katie.

"Well, that's certainly sooner than I expected." Steve said.

"Well, if I don't kill the wedding planner and the venue dude before, we'll have a Christmas wedding. It will be like Christmas but with more me." Tony smirked.

"You know, guys, I can't be living with you when you're married...I appreciate you putting me up but I need to think about what I'm gonna do seriously." Katie spoke softly, turning her eyes to Tony.

"What do you mean, Kiddo?" her brother asked

"You guys are gonna be newlyweds.” She smiled “You should be building your home together, you won’t need me here.” “Kiddo, you’ll always-“ “I know, I know Tony…” she smiled at him “But, I was saying to Steve before, the lease on my apartment in DC is up in a few weeks...I'm not sure I'm gonna renew." she explained.

"You’re not gonna go back to DC?" Tony was now frowning.

"Not until this case is solved and we have no idea when that's gonna be." she said looking at Steve who shook his head.

"But you could cancel that lease and then need to be back there a week later."  Steve looked at her. "I told you, just leave it as is and come stay with me."

Steve didn't know why but he could tell Katie was hesitant about it. And then back up came from the most unlikely source in the entire Universe.

"That's not a bad idea..." Tony mused as Steve looked at him with an expression of utter shock on his face. "You wanted that role in DC so badly...you'll kick yourself if you don't go back...give it till Christmas. If this is still going on...then you can make a decision as to whether you stick with it or go back." Tony told his sister.

"And then we have the added complication that I can’t stick with it and be under Steve's command when we’re together, it's against regulations. So we’re either stuck as a secret for fuck knows how long, or I go back to DC or I have to find another precinct." Katie sighed, rubbing her forehead.

Steve could see she was getting worked up again as she was rambling and decided to calm her down. "Ok, look, let's tackle this one problem at a time ok? You got a few weeks yet. I told you, you're welcome to come stay with me Sweetheart."

"Aww. That's so sweet Steve." Pepper spoke this time. "You're so cute together. Are you seeing them, Tony?" she asked her fiancé.

"Yup. Seeing, still working on believing." Tony wise cracked. "Yet, I must say if dad could see them he'd be jumping for joy. He always wanted you to end up with golden boy here, Kiddo."

Steve rolled his eyes at Tony's comment, but he was indeed very pleased to hear he would have had Howard's approval. Not only was he Katie's father but his mentor and the man he had always looked up to, considering his own father had passed away when he was still a baby.

Katie was looking a little upset again, clearly thinking about her dad and the possibility he could have been murdered so Steve decided to change tactic a little and asked something he had been dying to ask since they left the office, but for some reason had forgotten about.

"So, I'm curious...the number 14605...how did you know what order the missing digits had to be in?"

He saw Katie grinned before answering "Oh, it’s a number dad used to quote all the time..."

"14 million, six hundred and 5..." Tony offered

Steve was now utterly lost “I'm not..."

"When I was 4 I asked Dad how many stars there were in the sky. He said 14 million, six hundred and 5...just a random number, but I believed him. It was only when I got older I realised he had just made it up, and then it became a bit of a joke." she explained, her green eyes sparkling again at the childhood memory of his father.

"Yeah, like when dad asked how many times he had to ask you to tidy your room before you would do it..." Tony quipped.

"14 million, 605..." Katie finished, grinning widely.

"And like when mom asked how many eggs dad wanted on his breakfast..." Tony started again.

"14 million 605..." she repeated.

"How many dresses you tried on for prom..." Tony continued and the siblings smiled to one another for an only answer.

"All right, dinner must be almost ready. I'll go and check it" Pepper cut in.

"Right. Good to go on this end. The rest is up to you." Tony told her as he sat up and waved for Katie and Steve to follow him to the dining room.

Following their dinner, they retired to the large lounge in Tony’s penthouse, the 4 of them chatting and sharing another bottle of wine. Well, 3 of them chatting as Steve noticed that as the night ran on Katie was participating less and less. She’d clammed up, gone in on herself as she often did when something was bothering her. Tony had noticed too as Steve caught him looking at his sister more than once with a concerned expression on his face. Eventually she stood up and said she was tired and heading to bed. Steve agreed, eagerly considering he too was whacked and they bid Pepper and Tony a good night and headed down to the spare room, or Katie’s room as it now was.

“C’mere…” Steve said to her gently as she shuffled down under the soft duvet. She sank into his arms, snuggling into his chest as his hand gently ran through her hair, his lips pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. She stayed silent for a moment and then he felt her shoulders beginning to shake as her soft sobs hit his ears. With a sigh he turned onto his side, brushing her hair back off her face. “Hey, look at me.”

She raised her eyes to his and he placed a soft kiss on her lips. “We’ll work this out sweetheart I promise”

“You don’t know that.” she shook her head “You can’t make promises that you don’t know you can keep Stevie…” “Well, I promise I’m gonna do everything I can to make this ok.” he appeased, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs “Trust me.” “I do, you know I do.” she sniffled “I trust you with my life but…how is any of this ever going to be ok?”

“Let’s see what our mystery guy has to say first.” he said gently “It could just be a load of conjecture and…” “I don’t believe coincidences Steve, not on stuff like this, you know that.”

Steve merely sighed and fell silent, unable to think of anything else to say he simply pulled her closer, his legs tangling with hers as she pressed her face into his bare chest. He ran his hand softly up and down her back underneath the shirt she was wearing, his chin resting on her head.

He lay away long after the events of the day lulled his girl into an exhausted sleep.

**** The next morning Katie and Steve arrived together at the station. They had gone to Tony's in Steve's car the previous night and besides there was no point in even trying to deny they were together though they still had to be careful to not be touching or doing anything that wasn't keeping a professional front.

Katie went straight to her computer. Steve had talked her into ignoring Wanda as they drove in. They’d had enough having to put up with Tony's snarky comments during breakfast about them sharing a bed under his roof.

He tried to keep verbal exchanges with Wanda to a minimum. It hadn't been difficult, the redhead had handed him his mail without even looking him in the eye and had basically sat behind her desk without engaging in conversation with anyone, which was very out of character. Tension really could be felt in the air.

Clint and Nat just said hi, nothing more, no sassy remarks or interrogation of any sort. Steve was definitely getting more nervous by the minute, but tried to brush it out of his mind as he entered his office and closed the door behind him.

"Briefing will be interesting today." Bucky turned to Katie.

"I don't think I can be in that room with the bitch." Katie whispered, nodding in Wanda's direction.

"Thanks for the money." Natasha said, startling Katie.

"Fuck, Nat. Where did you learn to be that stealthy, in the KGB?" Katie asked, still trying to catch her breath.

Natasha laughed and explained to her the little bet she had with Clint about who would blow cover first and that she had won, twice.

"I should be surprised you know but I’m not. Nothing gets past you two" Katie shrugged as she nodded at Clint, who was having an argument with someone on the phone about a pile of logs that needed cutting.

They all waited for Barton to finish his call before going to the kitchen for coffee and a few minutes later Thor appeared, with his characteristic “Greetings, Morons.”

"I bet he can smell coffee from three blocks down the street." Clint quipped, opening the cupboard to grab a packet of pop tarts for the police officer.

“So I see it is out about you and the captain.” he said, grinning widely at Katie.

“Good news travels fast." Katie muttered.

Bucky at that moment thanked God that Wanda wasn't in the kitchen.

“I knew on Monday.” Thor informed as he shrugged.

Katie glared at Clint and Nat. Bucky flinched. Nat had assured him the bet was only between her and Clint and they hadn't told anyone.

“We didn’t tell him…” Nat protested.

“No one told me.” Thor said, “I figured it out.”

Not that was rich, Bucky thought. How the fuck can the bungalow have figured it out by himself. So he decided to ask. “How?”

“Oh the Captain’s doodles on his briefing notes.” Thor shrugged “Changed from random little shapes to stars…and we know that’s his little nickname for you…he did buy you that necklace after all…”

Bucky saw Katie’s hand fly to the silver star shaped pendant around her neck, her mouth hanging open slightly.

“You clever bastard…you should be a detective.” Bucky snorted.

“No, I prefer the action. We get a lot more fights on the front line…and you know how I love fighting…” Thor said, after laughing loudly.

"And here I was thinking Banner was the smartest person I knew. Just yesterday I was telling him..." Bucky started but couldn't finish as Thor cut him in, excitedly.

"Aw, good old Banner. How's he doing? I tell everyone I know him. Hey, he's a friend from work. That's what I tell them." Thor rambled just before his phone beeped.

They all saw him grunt at the name on the screen of his phone “I am sick of this” he mumbled before dialling a number angrily.

"Noobmaster. Hey, it's Thor again. Listen bud, if you don't drop this immediately, I'm gonna fly down to your house, come down to that basement you're hiding in rip off your arms and shove them up your butt!"

They all looked at him dumbfounded as he finished the call and, without further explanation, put his phone in his pocket again and bit a pop tart.

"Are you ok?" Clint said, squeezing Thor's shoulder.

"Yes. I'm fine. Why?" he asked "Why, don't I look all right?"

At that he paused, reached for his phone and pulled a face. "Sorry. Heimdall got a message for me. Erm, Fury is here." he informed.

Then, all of a sudden, Bucky saw Thor vanish as quickly and suddenly as he appeared. It was almost as if some magic beam from another world transported him in and out.

Exchanging glances they all hurried into the office and true to word, Fury was there.

“I swear Heimdall sees everything…” Natasha mumbled, and they all agreed.

Fury nodded to everyone before calling Katie over.

"Stark, may I have a word with you? In your Captain's office?" Fury asked her.

"Yes, Sir." Katie answered softly.

Bucky saw her looking at him, puzzled, before following Fury to Steve's office but he could only shrug. Then Bucky noticed Wanda was going bright red and he glared at her as the door of Steve’s office shut

“What did you do?” he asked. He was fuming.

But Wanda shrugged and simply turned back to a file cabinet she was sorting. Bucky, Clint, Nat exchanged a glance.

"Oh shit…"

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

Continued in Part 2

[dreamgirl4certain]

The Elevator Bae

Chapter ONE.

Erik x Black OC (Phoenix)

A/N: I am so nervous about putting this out. I’ve been struggling for weeks to actually sit and write it but the idea just won’t leave my head. So, I figured why the hell not. Next chapter will pick up for sure.

Phoenix nods her head to the beat as Nipsey Hussle’s, Hussle & Motivate blast through her speakers. She’s learned to accept LA and all of its traffic. She’s officially been a Los Angeles resident for about a year now. She moved out here from Detroit. Phoenix packed all that she could fit in her small Chevy Cruz and drove the whole way. Life back home in Detroit was getting way too out of hand for her. Her friends didn’t really seem to support her dreams of being a DJ/Music Producer. Her family wanted her to go back to school and be something normal, like a nurse.** **

Phoenix worked her ass off with two jobs to fund her dream. Big Sean had heard one of her beats on her Soundcloud and reached out to her. That same beat was soon one of the top charting songs in the country. Artist were hitting Phoenix up left and right, wanting to work with her. Hustling her way into the industry, she was asked to DJ a huge party for Roc Nation in LA and the rest is history. After networking and making some connections, she decided that staying in Detroit would hold her back. She didn’t even tell anyone that she was leaving… except her Mom.

She woke up one day and just left. She hasn’t looked back yet. Being in LA, she’s actually made a few genuine friends that not only supports her, but ride for her through thick and thin. They even staged a 4 day sleepover one time when Phoenix had an anxiety attack so bad, she couldn’t leave her apartment.

All in all, Phoenix could really say that she was happy.

Phoenix sings along to every song has she moves her way through traffic. After an afternoon full of meetings, she finally reaches her apartment and turns down into the underground parking garage. Her favorite parking spot is open. As she steps out, she adjust her black leggings and cropped Harvard crewneck. She still sings along to the last song that played, Ari Lennox x BMO, now stuck in her head as she heads for the elevator‍.

A man ahead of steps into the elevator first. When he turns and notices her coming behind him, he holds the door for her.

When she looked up to say thank you, she wasn’t prepared for the man standing in front of her. This man… tall, the sweetest brown skin. His arms were definitely trying to break out of the sleeves of his burgundy fitted tee. His short dreads hung over his face, almost covering his eyes. She’s seen some fine guys since being in LA, but this one...he takes the cake.

“Thank...you”

“No problem.”

His voice… his fucking voice. It hit her like thunder. Has she ever heard a voice so damn sexy?

Then it hit Phoenix… jelly legs. She does her best to lean against the elevator door. The man pulls out a keycard and scans it. He must live in a penthouse. Only penthouse tenants had keycards.

“Which floor?”

“Uhh… Seven.”

The man hit the button for the 7th floor for her. As the doors shut, his cologne took the cabin hostage. It was a mix of Shea butter, cedar wood and vanilla. Phoenix hadn’t realized she closed her eyes as she took in his scent. But, he did. He released a low chuckle that took her from her trance. Her eyes shot open. She cleared her throat and tried to focus on a speck of dirt on her Chanel Slides.

The man opened his mouth to say something but before his words slipped, the elevator doors open. FLOOR 7. Phoenix internally panics, not sure if her legs would fail her. This really wasn’t the time nor place for this shit. She goes for it, rushing out. She made it but once she turned to walk to her door, barely out of site from the gorgeous man in the elevator, her knee buckles. She catches herself on the wall.

“Shit!”  She slowly picks herself up, walking slowly to her door. The walk to the other end of the hall felt like 100 damn miles. She made it into her apartment. She drops her keys on the kitchen counter. She flops down on the couch. Dragging her sweaty hands over her face.

“Did I really just sniff this man? Did I really get caught sniffing this nigga?”

——-

The incident ran through her mind probably hundred times throughout the rest of her day. She managed to cook herself some dinner, shower and do a few loads of laundry. With each task, she would stop herself.

“I sniffed this nigga! What is wrong with me? I’m a creep.”

Her brain getting the best of her. She curls up on her couch. She had every intent to catch up on Steven Universe. Her schedule had been so busy that she has weeks of episodes to watch. But she couldn’t focus. All she could think about was this fine man. Why hadn’t she seen him before? And of course that just led back to her thinking about him catching her. She needed a distraction.

Instagram. She picked up her phone and scrolled down her timeline. Her homegirl, Ava, was all over the gram with her new photo shoot. Phoenix left a few comments.

YASSSS BITCH! GO OFF! REAL HOT GIRL SHIT!

Phoenix continued scrolling. She found her way to her explore page. Liking a few pics of decor and food. And that’s when she saw it. Her ex, Justin, posted with his baby mama. Phoenix broke up with Justin the day before she moved to LA. That same day, she found out he had a baby on the way. That was the extra push she needed to just leave. Justin was her first everything. Her only real boyfriend and he did her dirty. She hadn’t really dated since then. She’d entertain a few of the industry guys that approached her but nothing ever happened. Her feelings were hurt instantly. Even though she had moved on and far away, that shit still stung like it was fresh. She locked her phone. When she needed a distraction, she ain’t mean that. Maybe making a beat would help.

She set up her mini, bootleg studio she created and got to work. It was so easy for her. This was her passion. She even wrote a few lyrics. Time was passing by and before she knew it, it was almost 2am.. she wasn’t surprised at all. She always worked best at night. She was in her zone so she didn’t wanna stop to go to sleep anytime soon.

Phoenix headed to the kitchen. She was going to need some good snacks to match this good creation session she was having. Opening her snack cabinet, she was met with a half eaten bag of plain chips and a pack of Oreos with ONE left.

“Ava is never staying here again. Eating up all my shit.” she says to herself.

She sent her friend a text, not caring that it’s late.

Phoenix: You owe me some snacks you hungry heffa.

Phoenix was determined to finish this night out strong by any means. Even if that means going to the store at 2am. She slid on her FENTY Slides. She refused to put on a bra so she threw on a Nike hoodie and headed out.

——-

The elevator seems to be taking forever. Who in the hell is holding it up this late? Phoenix starts to weigh her options. Tired of waiting, she debates if she should just go back into her apartment.

DING

Letting out a deep sigh, “Finally!”

Looking up, she freezes. It’s him, sporting a black tank, basketball shorts, Nike socks and slides. He had small scars all over his upper torso and trailing down his arms. She is completely stuck, staring at him.

How far down did these scars go?

The doors begin to close and the gorgeous man stops them with his hand.

“Are you gonna get in or just stand there?” he smiles.

‘HO MY GAWD! Is that gold in his mouth?

Phoenix slowly walks into the cabin. Arms folded over her chest, she stands in the front, right corner. Ground Level already highlighted as their stop.

“It’s a little late for you to be out here by yourself ain’t it?” He asks.

Peaking over her shoulder, “I’m good.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, Phoenix could feel him burning a hole in her back with his eyes. She turns to make sure she’s right.

Of course! He’s staring right at her ass. She wants to say something but her words are trapped in her throat. He smiles at her, making her swallow them down and she just looks down at her feet.

“I’m Erik.”

her head snaps back. “Huh?”

“My name. It’s Erik.”

“Oh…Phoenix.”

The elevator doors open. Phoenix waste no time stepping out. Erik is right behind her. He taps her arm, making her jump. Erik was used to women being nervous and awkward around him. He knew he was fine and enjoyed watching women fold before him. He showed his pearly whites, dimples pooling deep,

“Get back here safe, Phoenix.”

Making sure to said her name slowly.

LORDT! The way he said her name made her stomach flip. This man was dangerous. She could tell.

“Uh, you too, Erik.”

She tried to match his tone saying his name. Not wanting to stick around for his response she turns immediately to go to her car. Getting in, she sits. She’s looking out between the rows of cars to see where he went. Some lights flash and soon after, a blacked out Acura NSX with red detailing along the sides, slowly drives by, in front of her. She pretends to not notice, acting as though she’s looking down. She starts her car and pulls out of her parking spot. There’s no traffic but Erik made sure to sit at the parking garage’s entrance until her car pulled up behind him before revving his engine and taking off.

Phoenix rolls her eyes, playfully. “This nigga extra as hell.”

But she knew she liked it. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t let her lie to herself. The short drive to the 7/11 up the street consisted of her wondering where he was going this late and curious to know he’ll be there when she got back.

Tags: @purple-apricots @abeautifulmindexposed **If anyone likes this and wants to be tagged in the next chapter, let me know. 

[basically-i-write-shit]

Yamaguchi goes into heat in public and is found by another team... who immediately call Karasuno and have someone pick him up despite him begging them to breed him and making them horny, cause they're good people. (Or, at least good enough to not rape him. When his head clears he might find a bunch of dick pics and shirtless selfies on his phone, along with numbers to put to the faces. Maybe a few messages about how sweet he looked begging for pups. He's a little upset, but doesn't delete them.)

Tadashi blinks, his eyesight blurring as the world melts around him. His knees buckle and he frowns, confused; what’s going on?.. He isn’t– this isn’t right. Is this his heat? No, he– his heat isn’t for another week…What?.. 

No one’s on this street right now. He should hide himself away and call Narita-san or Kinoshita-san to come get him before someone else finds him…

“Hey, you smell that?” 

There’s laughter as a group leaves a coffee shop nearby, but it quiets down as Tadashi freezes, and there’s a moment of silence. Tadashi blinks and sees a group of fellow college-aged students looking around the street for whatever scent the first person mentioned and it takes him a moment to realize he’s the scent they’re looking for. Panic settles in his veins and he pushes himself up, struggling a bit. This could be bad. Is there a bathroom nearby?..An omega space? What percent is his phone at? 

“Oh, hey! Over there!” 

A whimper slips from Tadashi’s lips, and he prays silently that the group consists of betas or other omegas, but he knows already he’s not so lucky as the group begins to stalk towards hum, 

“H- Hey, you alright buddy? You got someone comin’ for you?” 

“Yeah, you shouldn’t be out here alone smelling like that,” 

“I– I, uh– fuck, no…” He mumbles, voice slurring a bit. The group comes closer, stopping about five feet away but their scents reach his nose anyway, and he whines, trying to back away. He can’t focus on any of their faces, he’s slowly falling deeper into his heat especially with the heady scent of alpha. “I need…I…” 

“Wait, fuck, is that who I think it is?” 

“Shit, it is, isn’t it? Hey, uh– Yamaguchi-kun, right?” 

“Huh? Yeah,” Tadashi says, confused.His knees buckle once again and he teeters forward, but before he can hit the ground strong arms wrap around his shoulders and his senses are flooded by alpha– alpha touch, alpha scent. He needs more. More. 

“Yamaguchi-kun, do you live nearby? Is there anyone we can call for you, before a stranger finds you?” Asks the alpha holding him, and he still doesn’t know who these people are. Their voices sound similar, but everything is blurring together. He nods slowly, hand weakly reaching to his pocket and fumbling for his phone, which tumbles from his grip. One of the other alphas grabs it from the ground and he goes weak. 

“Alright, here; type in your password, and we’ll call whoever you need.” His phone is in front of his face, then, and he types his password in with shaky hands. 

“I...Ennoshita-san, he’s my-- my roommate, he’ll come get m- me...fu-- fuck...” 

“Alright. I’ll call. We’ll stay here with you until he does, okay?” 

“M’kay,” Tadashi hums. He’s slowly lowered to the ground and propped against someone’s side. He whimpers and buries his face in their chest. “Fuck...I-- I need-- I--” 

“Hm, what’s that? What do you need, sweetheart?” Another voice coos, and his cock twitches in his pants. he clings tighter. 

“I need a- an alpha to-- to f- fuck me...I n- need-- need to be filled up, bred, please...” 

“Aw, that’s cute, dear. I’m sure you do.” His head gets pat, and he leans into the touch. “But none of that here.” 

“B- But-- I--” 

“Shh, it’s alright, don’t cry. Your head isn’t right, right now. You can’t say yes.” 

He groans in frustration, his entire body burning with need. 

“Ennoshita-san is on his way, okay Yamaguchi-kun? You’ll be home soon. Just rest.” 

“H- I...No, can’t--” He swallows thickly, grinding unconsciously against whoever’s holding him. When he’s back to normal, he’ll be mortified, but for now he focuses on the pleasure flowing over him and the mix of alpha scents around him. 

By time Ennoshita arrives, he’s fully out of it, and Maki and Mattsun help load him into Tanaka-san’s car, reassuring Ennoshita that they protected the omega. Then he’s gone, and the four alphas are standing there half-hard, in a daze from the lingering scent in the air. 

“Well, that was an interesting reunion.” Oikawa says, breaking the silence. “Iwa-chan, did you--” 

“I’m texting you his number right now.” 

“Think he’d like a little bit of material for his imagination, perhaps?..” 

“Oh, with the way he was begging? Definitely. Now seriously, I need out of here-- he got me so fuckin’ turned on.” 

“Same. Coffee was great, but I’m heading back to my apartment.” 

[mercatorantique]

aesthetic tag! 

tagged by @seungchris

tagging:  yall dont have to do it but ! @banghans @kimatas @djxiao @chrrysoda @utunes @itzmidzy n if anybody else wants to feel free to say i tagged u!

rules: bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold

soft

baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night

dark academia

neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story

edgy

closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks

seventies

colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | diy-ing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding

preppy casual

collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colorful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairy-lights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details

cinanamon - steph

gold jewelry, slowdancing in the kitchen with a lover, sun on skin, red-tinted lip balm, lazy mornings, getting lost in foreign cities, scent of bakeries, high-waisted jeans, kissing someone’s neck, writing reminders on your wrist, sleeping in braids to have waves in the morning, growing an herb garden, gentle touches, sketches tucked between pages, flushed cheeks, tandem bikes, floating in a pool, vintage gold hand-mirror, deer grazing, softly singing while doing chores

jaesmintea - dia

oversized everything | painted nails | fairy lights | dozing off in the middle of class | tying hair up into a ponytail | round glasses | laughing so hard you can’t breathe | late night study sessions | tender hand holding | impromptu photoshoots | drowning in moondust | bathing in the light of the sunset | strawberry flavored lollipops | polaroid pictures | eagerly tugging someone down the street | handwritten love letters | smell of coffee | living with reckless abandon | crinkled pages of a journal | replaying the same part in a song over and over

naptimetea - helena

everything black | rewearing your favorite outfit | drawing late into the night | rewatching favorite shows | the bread isle | minty lip balm | falling asleep anywhere and everywhere | making green tea | useless questions when it’s 2 am | forehead kisses | sleeping in till the afternoon | love of pink | staying up to watch the sunrise | dancing in the bathroom | messy handwriting | pile of sketchbooks | talking for hours about interest | old sentimental stuff animals | hanging out on the bed and doing nothing | thick fluffy blankets

jeonginks

the thrill of leaning your body way over a balcony’s edge | the suffocating feeling when the strong wind blows down your lungs | tip-toeing barefoot | hair ruffling and cheek pinching | hugging a body pillow at night | facing the sky with closed eyes | the whimsical silence when it’s past midnight and you’re the only person awake | when you can physically feel your eyes soften when you look at someone | dancing alone with only an oversized shirt | when your sweater falls over your thighs as you stand up | humming scary but memorable lullabies | vivid imagination | w-sitting with a mini skirt and thigh high socks | heated laptop on your lap | cereal at 3 am | gliding your fingers across your thighs | bittersweet melancholy | withdrawn and distant eyes | very tight belts | wanting love but not believing in it | not cruel but not kind

scxrlettwxtches

listening to a song and remembering the times you used to listen to it on repeat | imagining yourself living in any other life than the one you have now | crop tops and high waisted jeans | forgetting to smile but not actually being upset | nuzzling your face in the crook of their neck | back hugs when you’re stressed | turning in assignments 1 minute before they’re due | wanting a relationship but getting scared the moment you’re in one | pretending that you don’t care when inside you’re burning with doubts and fears | the sound of the evening waves as you lie on the sand | lying in your bed listening to your sad playlist | exhaustion but you can’t sleep | singing loudly when you’re the only one home | feeling safe and comfortable with that person in your life | knee high suede black boots with your black winter coat | comfort over appearance | writing essays at 2 am | creative peak from 1 am to 4 am | the one that always ends up walking in the back of a friend group

hyunsracha - sav!

split-dye hair | female rappers | staying up until 6am and sleeping until 1pm | taking notes on an ipad | middle school emo music | mini skirts | late night drives | rain on the ocean | flirting with people when you’re bored | doc martens | eating ramen in the pot | afraid of being looked at | fishnets | getting joy out of making people laugh | small tattoos | crying yourself to sleep | peppermint everything | desperate for freedom | chipped black nail polish

lveletters

well-worn converse | ginger ice cream | farmers’ markets | amaretto in coffee | the sound of pen on paper | empty mountain trails | black and white photographs | vintage bicycles | roads trips with no destination | overfilled bookcases | a shoebox full of ticket stubs | granny smith apples | orange gerbera daisies | cardigan sweaters | games that tell a story | red wine in a mason jar | succulent gardens | tattoos of birds | fresh-baked muffins | a favorite pair of jeans

dnceracha - sydni

black chelsea boots | chapped lips | browline glasses | losing yourself in video games | impressionist art | pink peonies | writing down anything you need to remember | the smell of gasoline | business goth style | dangly earrings | florals | ballet flats | cuffed jeans | liking the villain | a stack of journals | generous amounts of highlighter | knives | rain on a tin roof | heavy footsteps | small-town diners

seungchris - tessa

1am coffee |  small of fresh baked cookies |  lazy morning cuddles |  craft beer | corner booth in a local diner |  video games till 4am | strained vocals in songs | soft yellow lighting |  fresh mint |  loud synth bass with sweet vocals |  fuzzy photos |  squished cheeks |  long hugs | childhood stuffed animals | cat laying on your chest |  blasting music going to country roads | chocolate espresso beans |  white beat-up converse |  6-year-old worn sweaters |  hand-made gifts

gutenyang - luca

a game over screen playing its melancholy music in the darkness | being so full of love you start choking on it even though it has nowhere to go | being so drained of love that everything runs together | hazy memories as if they’re no longer your own | wet ink staining the palms of your hands | teeth glinting in the dim light, are those really so sharp? | getting lost in a campfire, the voices of your friends laughter and singing fading out as you stare | home-grown roses and lavender and lilies | the burn in your lungs after a good long scream | the ringing in your ears after seeing your favorite artist in concert, live, feeling the vibrations in your very soul | a smile shared between two...not lovers, but impossibly intertwined regardless | the fascination with catholic imagery and disgust with everything else | a ballroom in the modern era | lips against skin, a kiss and a secret whispered | a leather jacket so loaded with pins and patches that it says more about the owner than any words can describe | a bassline so melodic it catches you off guard, sweeps you off your feet | laughter for laughter’s sake | reading between the lines and only praying someone reads between yours as well | that one knife that says ‘jopping’

[cinnamonanddean]

Wincestmas - Day 3

Alright, alright, let´s try this again and hope Tumblr is not eating it this time!

Today, I thought I´d try a different kind of Wincest flavor - you mentioned that you didn´t mind a little Daddycest, and my friend, I´m right there with you <3 I´m fairly certain you´ll like this one, but please let know if you´re not comfortable with any aspect of the story and I´ll hurry to write a replacement gift!

Warning: this story contains Dean/Unknown Male Character, underage sex, a bit of dubcon and a healthy dose of John/Dean UST.

(I stole this idea from the SPN Masquerade 2018: "John has a perfect scheme to make money between hunts: he lures men into a compromising position with his teenage son, and then trades the photos for cash." Whoever thought of this: you´re a genius and I love you!).

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

“You even legal, kid?”

Dean has learned from experience that anyone asking that question, is never even all that interested in hearing a truthful answer.

“Legal enough,” is more information than most of his targets need, and this man is no exception, either.

“Good answer.” Business Guy whispers and cups Dean´s face with one hand, thumb slowly tracing the outline of his lips.

Dean´s chosen prey of the day is unusually young. Young, hot and goddamn loaded, if his expensive business suit is any indication. His shoes alone look like they cost more than the entire Winchester wardrobe combined.

This guy probably wipes his ass with 200 Dollar bills, and Dean is more than a little turned on by the thought of ridding him of some of that wealth. If he plays his cards right, they won´t need to worry about money for the next few months or so.

The hand on his jaw slides forward and Dean opens his mouth without hesitation, groaning when two fingers push in deep enough to make him gag.

They taste like salt and stale smoke and Dean sucks them with unabashed enthusiasm – lots of tongue, just a hint of teeth, point twelve on Cosmo´s “How to drive him wild”-list.

He´s rewarded with a heartfelt curse and a heated look, the faint squeak of leather that means that John is watching from the shadows and most likely already on the brink of losing his shit.

“Jesus, kid, your fucking mouth.”

There´s something akin to awe in the man´s voice, and it makes warmth pool in the pit of Dean´s stomach, makes him grab the stranger´s wrist, shove those fingers even deeper.

His eyes flick down to the man´s crotch, and Dean feels his own dick twitch when he sees the long line of the guy´s cock, thick and hard and all because of him. He idly wonders if watching this is making John hard, too.

“Gonna suck it, sweetheart?”

Business Guy is staring at him, eyes glued to the way Dean´s lips stretch around his fingers, and the steel in his voice makes it clear that this is not a question.

Luckily for him, Dean has always been good at following orders.

He drops to his knees with an eagerness that surprises even himself, hands at the other man´s belt before the pain of his fall even registers.

“Good boy.”

Dean shivers at the praise and his cheeks start to burn, pride and shame mingling in his gut until he can´t distinguish one from the other.

A hand slides into his hair and he lets himself be pulled, his own skinny fingers slipping beneath the expensive fabric of the man´s slacks, and then Dean´s hand closes around the length of him, all hot, sticky skin, thick veins and coarse hair where Dean´s still soft and boy-smooth.

It´s bigger than Dean anticipated, but he´s watched enough porn to know what he´s doing, doesn´t even hesitate before he leans in and flicks his tongue right over the head.

The man grunts in approval and it´s all the encouragements Dean needs. He starts licking it in earnest – long, broad stripes from root to tip, little kitten licks around the head until he guy´s dick is shiny with spit.

Dean pulls back. Licks his lips. Takes another peak at Business Guy from beneath his lashes. The man seems transfixed, all open-mouthed adoration, and Dean smiles up at him and slowly, deliberately sucks the head of the guy´s dick into his pink, eager teenage-mouth.

It´s a bit different from what Dean had expected, the weight of cock against his tongue even more intoxicating when it tastes of man instead of cheap silicone, the stretch a little wider than he´s used to, but not more than he can handle.

Dean pushes deeper, throat fluttering against the intrusion and he nearly gags himself in his eagerness.

He draws back. Swallows. Spreads his legs to give his own leaking dick more room. Jesus fucking Christ.

The next slide is easier, smoother. Almost all the way down. The hands in his hair tighten and the guy above him moans, low and wanton, entirely unashamed, head falling back against the brickwall behind them.

Any minute now, Dean thinks, as he slowly gets a good rhythm going. He knows that the lightning in this alley is shit, that John might have to get closer to get a quality pic or two, but this lack of action is making him nervous.

John never lets things get this far. Usually, he´s be up and at the other guy´s throat before Dean even gets a good grip on the dude´s zipper.

They´re way past that now, and to his own surprise, Dean doesn´t mind that one bit. He´s always been good with his mouth and judging from the shivers that go through the guy when Dean sucks his dick just right, Dean can proudly add “giving head” to his long list of talents.

Seconds pass, minutes, still no sign of John.

Dean knows he´s watching, though. Can feel his skin prickle under his father´s heavy gaze, and Jesus, fuck, he´s going to jerk off to this for weeks.

The moan tearing its way from somewhere deep in his chest is muffled around his mouthful of cock, and Dean feels himself tremble at the answering stream of curses above him.

He draws back, takes a minute to admire the wet, shiny mess he´s made, his fist sliding through spit and precum when he gives the guy a few slow strokes.

“Shit, baby, c´mon.” The man pleads and Dean grins, opens his mouth, prepared to draw him in deep again.

He doesn´t get very far.

The sound the guy makes when he´s slammed up the alley wall is fundamentally different to the ones Dean just pulled out of him.

Surprise, anger, fear. Mostly, shock.

“Get your fucking hands off my son!”

Dean can´t remember the last time John´s voice shook with that much fury. He´s terrifying, looming over the guy like an avenging god straight out of one of Bobby´s books.

Business Guy is trying to say something, but only manages to croak out hurt little sounds, hands grabbing uselessly at John´s forearm that is pressing against his throat and cutting off his air, toes trying and failing to find any purchase on the dirty street below.

It´s ten different kinds of hot and does nothing at all to improve the situation in Dean´s already uncomfortably tight jeans.

“Give me one, one, good reason not to cut off your dick right here and now!” John snarls, not even waiting for an answer before snapping his favorite switchblade wide open, the sharp knife gleaming dangerously in the low light of the alley.

The way the guy´s eyes bulge out at that, Dean´s sure he´s going to pass out any minute now.

“P-please, I - “

“Shut your fucking mouth, you sick little - “ John breaks off, the tense line of his shoulders trembling with barley checked violence. He´s five seconds away from cutting the guys throat, and all three of them know it.

"Dad?" Dean tries, not all that keen on disposing of yet another goddamn body tonight. "It´s okay, you can let him go. He´s not worth the trouble.”

His father doesn´t even twitch, no sign that he even heard him.

They balance right at the edge of disaster for another five seconds, and then John jumps back as if he´s been burned, knife still in his hand, but no longer ready to strike.

Business Guy crumbles to the floor in a mess of limbs, chest heaving with panicked breaths. He looks all kinds of ridiculous, soft cock still hanging out of his jeans, his face somehow both deadly pale and angry red all at once.

Yeah, Dean thinks idly, it probably is kinda difficult to stay hard when John fucking Winchester is at your throat, threatening to cut your balls off.

“Leave.” His father orders, as if on cue, the deadly calm of his voice even more terrifying than the anger from seconds ago. “And if you ever touch another kid, I´m going to come back and make you pay for every. single. one. of them.”

Without waiting for a reply, John turns around to face Dean, stares him down with the full force of his glare, something dark shifting in his gaze.

Suddenly, Dean is only too aware of the state he´s in, how his lips feel swollen and raw, of the way his face is still shiny with both drool and jizz.

He hesitates for a second and then slowly, provocatively, licks his lips. John´s swallows.

“We´ll talk when we get home.” He rasps, eyes glued to Dean´s mouth, the bulge in his jeans unmistakable.

Dean only smiles.

---------------------------------

Good God, Anon, you tryna kill me? There's so much to love here: teenage Dean getting off on his own power, John so focused that he forgets to pull the plug - did they even get the money? Ah, who cares! Amazing. Thank you!