#can’t wait for him to get squashed

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

stay for a fortnight

a/n: as promised, here is part three of the bodyguard!bucky story ৎ୭

summary: “yes, ground rules,” you sighed, forcing your eyes to rest on anything but him, “it’s just you and me here for two whole weeks, so we’ll need to come up with a plan.”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, staying for two weeks at a chateau in the south of france, forced proximity, bucky is a shameless hoe and we love him for it, kissing, love confession, shower sex, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, belly bulge, gaping, handjob, fingering, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 3870

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“I’m sorry, darling. I tried to get out of it, I really did, even for just one day, but I can’t join you at the chateau this time.” 

“It’s alright, mom,” you exhaled, “I understand.”

Soothingly rubbing her palm down the length of your arm, she suggested, “well, since it won’t be as crowded down there, why don’t you stay a little longer? Maybe a proper break might cheer you up. Maybe one extra week?”

“Actually, two weeks of alone time is just what I need right now,” a faint smile managed to emerge on your lips, “thank you.”

“Great! You go and pack your things, I’ll let Barnes know to do the same,” she announced, and squashed the brief relief you felt just as soon as it had washed over you. 

It felt like ages that Bucky made you sit and wait in the car while he went around the estate to do his initial sweep, making sure it was safe and secure before you got to enter. 

The tenseness that still floated ethereally in the air between you didn’t fade away when he finally came back to crack open the door for you to exit the vehicle. 

“So,” you exhaled once the two of you had crossed the threshold of the chateau, “my room is the one upstairs and at the end of the hallway, yours is wherever the fuck you want, there are like a million bedrooms in this place.”

Your footsteps echoed against the elegantly tiled floors as you twisted to check that he even heard you. He had, seeing as his gaze was still ever glued upon you, though he didn’t offer you a reply. 

Shifting the large bag that hung from your shoulder, the luggage that you stubbornly hadn’t let him carry, you paused just before your stride began to ascend the grand staircase in the middle of the foyer.

“Also, I think we should come up with some ground rules.” 

Your bodyguard’s dark eyebrows then crinkled as he half scoffed, “ground rules?”

“Yes, ground rules,” you sighed, forcing your eyes to rest on anything but him, “it’s just you and me here for two whole weeks, so we’ll need to come up with a plan.”

Exhaling slowly, he simply stated, “whatever you say.”

Before you then began to drift up the wide steps, you cast a glance over your shoulder and said, “meet me in the kitchen in ten.”

“Alright,” you breathed, leaning against the cold marble of the kitchen island as you stared down at the small list you’d scribbled down on a stray post-it you had found in the bottom of your bag, slightly crumbled and with a doodle on the other side, “first rule I’d like to instate is an obvious one, but still needs to be set and stone in order for us to be here together. We can’t sleep together.”

When you heard a low sigh seep from Bucky’s lips, your eyes snapped up to glare at him. 

“Hey! Take this fucking seriously, okay?”

“I am,” he assured you, though his tone indicated the complete opposite of his words. 

“So, rule number two is in prolonging of the first one, which is that we can’t do anything that’ll make us want to sleep with each other,” you cast your glance back down to your messy handwriting, “two A, no swimming in the pool, two B, no nudity, two C, definitely no drinking, and two D, no staring at me,” your eyes flickered back up to catch his blue ones, “especially not like that,” you swiftly gestured to the way he gazed at you.

“Like what?” he didn’t change the manner he looked at you. 

“Like you’ve seen me naked!” 

Your shriek unfortunately only won you the glimpse of a smug smirk upon Bucky’s lips, one you swiftly tried to ignore. 

“Okay,” you blinked in an effort to redirect your attention back to the task at hand and not the butterflies that now soared in your stomach and made you slightly dizzy, “rule number three is technically also under the subsection of number two, but we can’t eat our meals together. No candle-lit dinners, not even a snack.”

Budding in, the man on the other side of the kitchen counter then said, “can I say something?”

With a soft sigh, you mustered the courage to look up at him, “shoot.”

“Do you wanna decide what I wear as well while you're at it? Maybe also when I’m allowed to breathe?”

His jest didn’t as much as conjure a twitch at the corners of your lips as your gaze simply narrowed in his direction, “are you mocking me?”

Boldly leaning his forearms down against the tabletop, he stared back at you, “so what if I am?” though when you assumed he was kidding and you let out a groan, you heard him go on, “all I’m saying is that maybe we don’t set a list of hard rules just to avoid each other. We seem to do just fine when we toss them all out the window.”

“I'm sorry, wait, what?” you blinked. 

“We’ve got two weeks here, so why don’t we make them count?” he shrugged. 

Mouth agape, you dumbfoundedly stared back at him, “you’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” calmly, his head tilted slightly as he held your stunned gaze, “just think about it.”

The sun only barely managed to set before you felt yourself crack and give in to your bodyguard’s offer. 

Storming into his room, his dark brows only got the chance to rise slightly in astonishment before you nearly tackled him to the ground, throwing your arms around his bulky frame and crashing your lips against his before any of you could say even a single word. 

You didn’t try to hide the raw emotions that came pouring out, causing your efforts to be rough and desperate, though it didn’t take long before Bucky’s touch mirrored the feral nature of your own, leaving you dizzy as you eventually withdrew from the starved kiss, clutching onto his shirt for support as you breathlessly ordered. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Keeping your eyes closed, you tilted your head back to let the drizzle of water rinse out the shampoo from your locks. 

The door to the bathroom was wide open, so when you twisted your form to face the showerhead, you didn’t notice as your faithful protector stopped in his slow tracks right on the other side of the threshold. His eyes trailed down your glistening spine till the sight of you caused him to crumble completely and take advantage of the gift that had just fallen into his lap.  

A low purr vibrated within your chest as the warm water rained down upon you, though suddenly, it wasn’t just the hot shower embracing your form, as a pair of burly arms snaked their way around you. Leaning back into his bulky frame, you caught sight of a crumbled bundle of his clothes tossed on the other side of the fogged-up shower door. A blissful hum crackled within you like a roiling fire as you felt his lips begin to plant soft pecks along the line of your shoulders. 

Though as his touch began to bloom and wander boldly down your frame, a gentle hiss tore through your lazy smile as his fingers came into contact and brushed over your core. 

Nipping at your neck, he murmured, “oh, do you want me to stop?” not removing his metal hand, though halted the pattern he had begun to draw over your petals. 

He already knew full well just how sore and swollen you still were. It would have been impossible not to be after the vigorous activities you’d kept the past week busy with.  

Digging your digits into his forearms to keep you in his embrace, you shot back hazily over your shoulder, “don’t you dare,” before a whimper rippled out of you as Bucky once again rolled your puffy pearl beneath his steely touch. 

“How is it that we’ve already done this for a whole week, yet it only feels like a day?” his voice tickled the shell of your ear as you leaned more of your weight back into him. 

“Really? Because I don’t believe you’d be able to fuck me in a day as many times as you have this past week,” you jested through a whimper, “even for a guy with your stamina.” 

“It’s a good thing it’s just the two of us here… imagine if we hadn’t been alone, if it hadn’t been me walking by and seeing you seduce me like the wicked temptress that you are?”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything of the sort,” you chuckled airily. 

“Really?” he teased just as his touch did, “leaving the door open, that wasn’t on purpose?” 

“No, I swear,” you then tilted your head and admitted, “at least not this time…”

“You mean the time back a month ago when didn’t close the door while taking a bath,” he murmured casually, “then called out to me, asking if I could fetch you a towel, and I had to pretend not to hear you?”

Spinning around at once, your eyebrows were nearly at your hairline as you blinked, “you knew?” 

“Baby, you never had to play that hard just to torture me,” he smiled down at you, “that move was downright cruel,” before he reached for the knob and switched off the water.

A squeal bubbled out of you as Bucky then suddenly plucked you up into his arms, wasting no time before he stepped out of the shower, only pausing for a beat in the comparatively more spacious area, though only in order to manhandle you further and toss you over his shoulder before his feet began to shift once more, leaving wet prints in their wake on the cool tile as he strode towards the exit. 

Strung over his shoulder as if you were a wet piece of laundry and he was the line, you giggled, “wait!” and just managed to catch one of the fluffy towels hanging on the hook he passed. Blinking down at the floor as he crossed the threshold, you watched as droplets of water dribbled down from you both and left a trail on the herringbone flooring, “you’re dripping, you’re gonna get the whole house wet!”

Landing his wide palm in a wet smack across your ass, he chuckled, “I thought that was my line, sweetheart,” teasing about the manner your pussy drooled for him, already leaking down your thighs at this point. 

Soon, the long hallway disappeared from your periphery as Bucky entered the nearest of the many bedrooms, though you barely had time to register your new surroundings before the world fell out from under you and he plopped you down on the bed in the middle of the room. 

Standing his ground and looming above the giggle that was your horizontal form, he stole the towel from your grasp before dragging the terrycloth across your skin. As he dried off the droplets of water that clung to your body, a handful of pecks adorned your flesh as well, often shadowing the cloth. 

Gazing up at him with smile-crinkled eyes, you stretched your feet up in the air, against his torso, and rested them against his wide shoulders as he briefly paused to dry himself off as well. But as he returned to sweep the towel across the last remaining spot upon your body that still glistened from the shower, the peck he pressed to the valley between your boobs was swiftly halted as your grasp found his jaw and you guided his face up towards your own. 

As you brought his lips to your own, you swiftly felt the mattress dent and ripple as he crawled up to hover above you. 

“Ahh, fuck…” he then groaned against your lips as your hand snaked down between your bodies and began to stroke his throbbing girth. 

Tossing the towel to the side, a gasp soon tumbled out past your lips as Bucky’s palms found your tits in a gentle squeeze. Your pebbly nipples stood up to the challenge as he swept a knuckle teasingly across one of them before capturing it in a pinch and tugging slightly to summon a sinful sound deep within your body. 

As your fist slowly twisted up and down his hard length, his close proximity caused your own knuckles to brush across your clit at every heated pass. Almost unconsciously, you tilted your hips slightly and nudged the bulbous tip of him through your glistening petals, the pleasure of which caused your eyes to roll in your skull. 

But just before he could take the initiative and catch your fleeting invitation to let him inside, you caught him off guard and suddenly rolled him onto his back with your frame plastered atop of him. 

Propping yourself up slightly, you grasped his fat girth before slowly sinking down upon it, “o-oh my god,” couldn’t help but breathlessly tumble out of your lungs as a flat palm came down to brace on his broad chest and your thighs gently quivered at the sudden stretch of him. It was a few times that you had to pause on your slow journey down just in order to catch your breath, as his intimidating size caused you to question yet again how you’d ever been able to take it before. 

“Atta girl,” his grip dug into your hips when you slowly began to move, “just like that…” though you still couldn’t persuade your pelvis to sink all the way down to meet his own. 

As you found a gentle roll, one of Bucky’s palms scooped up past your waist and caught one of your tits. Your back arched slightly as he played with your boobs, his hand travelling back and forth as you rode him, though a shuttering moan rippled through your body as he landed a gentle tap down upon one of them, a shiver swiftly trickling down your spine at the spark.

But just as you thought the bodyguard beneath you was blissfully enjoying the show and letting you do all the work yourself, his hips then abruptly offered you a greedy buck.  

“Bucky!” you nearly screamed as he buried the last few inches that you had so fiercely struggled to conquer on your own, “that’s–, I–, holy fuck!” 

You hadn’t been able to take all of him on your own, so he just gave you the little nudge that you needed, even if that nudge thoroughly punched all of the oxygen out of your lungs, he still made you take every staggering inch.

“Come on, don’t stop now,” a chuckle escaped him at your reaction before his palm came down upon your ass to get you back to work, “make yourself cum on this cock.” 

Shakily, you tried to pick up your rhythm once more, dropping your hips to meet his, though he couldn’t remain still for long before he began to fuck up into your warmth. Heavy taps echoed throughout the room as his balls slapped against your slick skin at his efforts. As he met your movements halfway and drove his cock much deeper than you could muster on your own, your left hand drifted down to strum your buzzing clit. 

Already dangerously close to the edge, your hazy gaze flickered down to watch not only how your pussy magically swallowed his big dick, but your eyes also caught sight of the dull bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, making your brain feel even more fuzzy than before. As your glance flickered back to try and catch his, you found his own stare to still be fiercely locked on the same spot where yours had just strayed from, watching intently at just how deep he went, nearly rearranging your guts just to mould you perfectly to fit his shape. 

When you finally reached your peak, your cunt nearly choked his cock as your silky walls clambered down on him, a small accompaniment of sinful gush squirted around him and drizzled to soak the sheets below. 

While you were still foggy with your eyes barely open, Bucky rolled you both over, his dick still throbbing deep within you. Welcoming the softness of the bed beneath you with a gentle sigh, he then captured your lips in a kiss and swallowed the whimpers that promptly bubbled up as he began to fuck you once more, offering you long, deep strokes that sank you so far into the mattress that you began to wonder if you might rock through it completely.  

“O-oh, so fucking d-deep,” you blubbered. A rhythmic cry forced its way out of your lungs each and every time the tip of him kissed your cervix, nearly bullying the deepest parts of you in a manner that made you feel like the wobbliest of jellies. 

“You scared I’m gonna break you, baby?” his soft lips ghosted against your cheekbone. 

“I–, maybe,” you admitted, blinking up at the way his frame eclipsed your vision, “but it feels so good, I don’t care if you do,” though your confession ended up not only exclusively being about the purely physical entanglement you currently found yourselves in. 

A deep growl rumbled in his chest as his hands scooped down beneath your bottom, before he let himself manhandle you, repeatedly dragging your hips up to grant him a better angle for him to fuck into. A bit of drool trickled out the corner of your mouth and found the pillow below your head when his cock soon throbbed within you, pumping you full of his hot load. 

When he pulled back out of your warmth, your pussy didn’t get to stay empty for long as his cool metal fingers swiftly took his dick’s place. Plugging you full, his frame shifted slightly to grant him a good view of the leaky mess he’d made of you. As he pushed his cum deeper inside of you, scooping it back in as his fingers forced it out, he increasingly added more and more digits till the amount matched the girth that had just split you apart, before he withdrew them all at once and grinned proudly at the way he made your hole gape slightly for him, before winking back to a closed as if he’d never even tickled you before. 

It didn’t take long with all of his molten motions before your pussy wept for him once more, a display he only drew out as his fingers stayed hooked inside of you while his other palm came down to offer your puffy pearl a few taps. 

A hazy giggle was bubbling out of your shaky frame as his attentive touch finally faded and his kisses fluttered back up your body till your arms wrapped around him and drew him in close. 

As you layed there in the plush bed and stared up at the ceiling, you didn’t know yet that the man sprawled out beside you was awake as well. 

You just couldn’t find rest no matter how hard you tried, for how could you as tonight was your last night in the chateau. 

Carefully, you slipped out from under the covers, grabbed your long robe from the armchair it was draped over, and tip-toed towards the wide French doors that lead out onto a balcony. Pushing the doors open, a mild gust of wind rustled the robe as you fastened the tie around your waist and crossed over the threshold. 

Though you knew that you didn’t have any other choice, the thought of returning home in the morning still broke your heart. The last thing you wanted to do was burst that dreamlike bubble that you and your bodyguard had built together and go back to a world completely desaturated of colour. 

Not only had you made the grave mistake of repeating history, but putting it under such an intense microscope didn’t help matters either, as well as your feelings, those having become terrifyingly clear over the past two weeks. 

“Hey,” you suddenly heard the doors behind you creak and you tore your hazy gaze away from the dark gardens below to spot Bucky gently leaning against the doorframe. 

“Hi,” you breathed, keeping a flat palm on the ivy-covered stone railing as you twisted your frame slightly to glance at him, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I was already awake,” he shrugged slightly before joining you outside in the pale moonlight, “you okay?”

“Yeah…” you sighed, casting your gaze back upon the woods blooming in the distance. 

“…well, that didn’t sound very convincing,” he chuckled gently as he settled in beside you, leaning both his forearms against the half-wall, “do you wanna talk about it?”

Sucking in a breath, your eyes flickered over to catch his own, “I just–…” you hesitantly began before admitting, “I don’t wanna go back to Paris…” 

“Why not?” though a crinkle found his brow, his expression still softened, “is there something going on with you and your mother?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” you shook your head, “I just don’t wanna go home yet…” staring at him a moment longer, you then heard yourself confess, “…I–… I don’t want this to end yet…”

Watching closely as his lungs expanded with oxygen, for the first time you witnessed the gruff man look utterly and completely stunned, simply staring down at you with bated breath. 

Parting your lips once more, you nearly whispered, “…I don’t wanna go back to pretending that I’m not in love with you…” 

Bucky didn’t say a word, only continued to stare as he tried to comprehend the truth you’d just professed.

“I love you,” you gathered up the nerve to spit out, “I love you now… I loved you this morning… I loved you after you’d probably only worked at the embassy for a few weeks…” your vision became blurred as tears began to form in your eyes and you continued to babble, “and I don’t think those feelings are planning on changing anytime soon, so it only seemed fair for you to be aware of that for when I ask you in two seconds if you wanna keep this thing between us going, because I do, though probably for different reasons than you–, not that I don’t enjoy that part, you are an incredible lay, I just didn’t think it would be fair for you to be unaware of the feelings I've developed for you, because I don’t know how to ignore them anymore, and–, oh my god, please just say something, I feel like I arrived naked at school or something–”

But before you could ramble any further, Bucky seized your face and fiercely pressed his lips to your own. A shiver ran down your spine and nearly caused your knees to buckle as he kissed you, and when he withdrew, slowly pulling back, he found your stary gaze and uttered, “…I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” he then sucked in a breath before confessing, “because I–… Y/n, I love you too…” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ohimsummer]

satoru gojo is tall, charming, powerful, radiating a commanding aura to both sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike. his presence demands attention, something he never has to struggle hard for. everyone around him usually grows intimidated just from him being in the vicinity—they get sweaty, they get nervous, they get shy. but not him. he’s not familiar with such emotions. satoru gojo has never been flustered…not until you, anyway.

he’s stuttered twice: once out of nervousness and the other out of pure shock. you didn’t even react to his first blunder, and that throws gojo off just a little more. he’s the strongest. he doesn’t make mistakes, doesn’t fumble over his words. satoru is about as perfect as perfect can get. and yet, here he is, tongue tied and twisted in knots all because…you’re looking at him?

this isn’t new. it’s not like he’s never been looked at before. quite the opposite, in fact. but this isn’t like the usual irate glances or idolizing, heart-eyed stares he gets from everyone else. you’re actually looking at him like a person, and paying attention on top of that.

ever since satoru began talking, you’ve hung on to every word he’s spoke, nodding along and interjecting with relevant dialogue. complimenting him, asking related questions, brows raising in surprise or intrigue when he says something you find interesting. despite this all being the usual bells and whistles of a normal conversation, satoru can’t help but feel a foreign pounding in his chest. he’s never experienced anything like this. not for a long while, anyway.

it’s not just the thudding behind his ribcage, but this sincere action of being seen. everyone else either looks through gojo, or over him, or away from him entirely and try not to acknowledge him at all, as if suffering through his company. but you, you’re actually looking at satoru, right in his face. dare he say, straight through his blindfold and into the azure blues underneath, as if it isn’t even there.

he has his silly suspicions that maybe you are looking through his blindfold. satoru considers that maybe you have some special power or technique to look through the fabric, but quickly squashes the nonsensical idea and decides instead that he’s just overthinking. and that conclusion flusters him even more.

the realization that you are actually interacting with him and listening to him….it’s not just going into one ear and out the other, or flying over your head as you pretend to listen and instead ogle the pretty features on his face. you’re…interested? in what he has to say? it almost seems implausible, but here you are, clinging to his every word and indulging in conversation with him. no restless fidgeting as you wait for it to end, nor a poorly concealed look of impatience as you pray for him to finally shut up.

you genuinely seem content in sitting here and letting satoru talk your ears off. like you’re enjoying it. and satoru is giddy at this realization, this epiphany that someone actually, truly enjoys his company. he thinks it feels…

it feels nice.

🩵: @anthoosies @staryukis @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @gigiiiiislife @domainexpansionmypants @starlightanyaaa @satoruxsc @cinnamoneve @lxnarphase @hellkaiserinphoenix @sherb3t @jianyuu4mii @xinfvl @blindbabycadder @kisstoru @the-monster-under-the-bed @manyno @sugu-love @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @luvvforliaa @purplegemadventures @v0ctin @kissesfrombelle @babytoshiii @biscuitsngravie

[hhoneylemon]

𝙄𝙢𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨

mark grayson x gn!reader

summary: mark realizes he’s selfish; he just wants to be held by you. he’s kinda ooc sorry :( 1k words

he’s all ghost kisses and gentle touches.

a bag of candy lies on the bed, discarded the second he had reached you. he’d gone out of his way to go to the fancy candy place at the mall an hour away.

now, he’s curled in your arms and nuzzling against your shoulder, taking in the scent of your body wash and your laundry detergent. his lips ghost over the skin that’s exposed around the collar of your shirt, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt around your waist. they dip underneath, soothingly rubbing circles on your skin.

he’s barely paying attention to what you’ve been saying, lost at the feel and smell of you. he shifts oh so slightly, legs tangling and bending in oddly comfortable manners.

when you look at him, his breath catches in his throat. he’s lost in your eyes, barely noticing your mouth is moving. a tap on his arm brings him to, causing him to blink and huff softly.

“hmm?”

“did you hear what i said?”

his face squashes back into your shoulder, a soft sigh escaping him. his nose lightly nuzzles you, his hand rising to splay across your chest.

“no,” he murmurs, fingers spreading as far as they can go. he enjoyed seeing just how much room there was down there, what would fit…

his cheeks flush a soft pink and he shudders as you run a hand down his spine. he’s convinced you know what he was thinking and now want to torture him. he raises his head to glare at you. you can’t help but to laugh at the sight, gently poking his cheek and rubbing the small of his back.

“well, i was telling you my plans for the weekend. guess you don’t care, though, hmm?”

mark squints at you as though you’ve offended him. he shakes his head and lightly scoffs.

“i do care. i was just… thinking about other things.”

“like what?”

he makes a whiny noise, trying to weakly pull away. you roll your eyes, letting him sit up. he looks down at you as his back hits the headboard, betrayal written on his features.

“important things! like the ice cream we got last week in france. like the cookies we baked with my mom a few days ago. like when we went hiking yesterday.”

mark watches as you sit up beside him, hands automatically reaching for you. you sigh, wrapping your hands in and around his, watching him smile at you in turn. giving a small squeeze, you purse your lips.

“yeah, right. i was gonna help my friend look for furniture for his new apartment. then probably just hang out with you.”

he quietly cheers, leaning his head on your shoulder. he throws one leg over yours, forcing the both of you to shift to get more comfortable.

“perfect. i’ll be waiting on the edge of my chair.”

“you’re too corny.” you roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness. you turn your head to kiss his temple, resulting in a small hitch of mark’s breath.

you lightly push his head off your shoulder so you can look him in the eyes. with gentle hands, you cup his face. your thumb traces his bottom lip, back and forth.

“really pretty, though.” you murmur, leaning in and kissing him. his hands move in the air for a moment before landing on your biceps, gently squeezing.

you pull away and let your eyes flit across his face. they land on the scars that cut across his nose, the scar that runs across his top lip. the scars that try to mar his pretty face and yet fail.

you lean in and press your lips gently against his. you watch as his eyes flutter closed, his long eyelashes casting small shadows on his under eyes. you break away from his lips to press a small kiss to the bridge of his nose, right over the large scar from chicago.

from there, your lips find his right cheek. then his left. then his chin. then his forehead. another soft kiss to his top lip, right where the scar is. his cheeks are pink and his eyes are vulnerable once you finish. a small choked sound escapes him as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close.

his face finds your neck, hiding in the soft skin. his hands lightly tremble at your hips, trying to pull you impossibly closer. butterflies flutter around his stomach, his heart pounding in his ears.

“so good to me.” he murmurs against your neck, fingers sliding underneath the hem of your shirt. you gently laugh against his hair.

“i try to be. you deserve the best, don’t you?”

mark doesn’t enjoy being selfish. he tries to help people and have other people come before him. he’s come to learn that he’s a person too, and he can indulge in things that he enjoys. he can put himself first.

“yeah. specially when i flew to get you candy from a mall that’s an hour away.”

“probably took you ten minutes to get there.”

you scoff, squeezing him against you. he grins, pulling away to look you in the eyes again.

“true.”

he seems giddy, pulling you against him once again. he only uses his powers a tiny bit to lower the both of you onto the mattress in a lying position. his face presses into your hair, his arm wrapping around your waist. he only smiles with half of the suns power when the weight of your head settles on his chest, your hand finding his hip.

settling his free hand under his head, he decides this is where he should always be. where he truly belongs is in your arms, your weight and warmth grounding him to the soft firmness of his mattress.

he wonders, later that night, if he could pretend the world didn’t need him. that if cecil called, he wouldn’t have to answer. if danger occurred in the city, he could let other heroes handle it. the thought was too selfish, he decided. but when you sigh in your sleep and shift so that your foot nudges his, he decides that maybe he could skip a night every now and then.

masterlist

[fastandcarlos]

Save The Day : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: your shopping trip couldn't have gotten much worse, until a stranger approaches and swoops in to save the day

“Excuse me, is everything alright? You look in need of some help.” 

Your eyes flickered up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, noticing a man stood just beside you. You were walking all over the place as you tried to push your daughter’s pram, balancing your shopping bags in both of your hands, barely able to walk in a straight line as things stopped to drop out onto the floor. 

You smiled shyly across at the man as he picked the bits that you had dropped off of the floor. Once he’d put them in a bag he took the bags from both of your hands, walking by your side. Walking immediately felt easier as you focused on pushing the pram out of the store and over to where your car was parked. 

The man carried your bags with ease, the strength easily defined in his arms as he walked at your pace. You didn’t quite know where to look as you walked, feeling his eyes watching over you. 

“Where’s your car?” He asked you, watching you point to your small car that was hidden by a much fancier looking vehicle, a car far too expensive for the area where you lived. 

There was a shade of embarrassment in your cheeks as you walked, feeling slightly humiliated that you weren’t able to carry your bags. Trying to balance all the weight was hard, but you were stubborn, and liked to think that you could take on the world all by yourself. 

“I’m just here,” you told him, reaching into your bag for your keys. 

You opened up the boot, going to take the bags, only for the man to swerve you. “Allow me,” he grinned, easily lifting the bags and placing them in the back of your car. 

You stepped back as he did so, watching as he carefully let go of them. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that for me, most people just walk straight on by.” 

“Well, I’m not most people,” he told you, a wide smile on his face. “Most people are assholes, it’s human nature to help someone when you see them struggling, or in my eyes at least.” 

You offered him a grin as you unbuckled your daughter’s pram to start getting her into the car. “Saying thank you doesn’t really feel like enough, there’s got to be something that I can do for you.” 

His head shook, taking a step back and watching as you took your daughter into your arms, hearing her let go of a squirm. You hated taking her out when she was asleep, but at this point you couldn’t wait to get home and forget about your struggle. 

“She’s beautiful,” the man whispered behind you, leaning across and tickling against her tummy, bringing a smile to her face again. “I bet your mummy and daddy feel like they won the lottery with you,” he added, only to watch your smile drop, eyes landing on the ground. 

“I-it’s just me,” you stuttered, immediately hearing the man mumble several apologies beside you. “Don’t be sorry, I’m used to it by now. Most of the time I’m alright, the two of us make quite the team,” you smiled, not wanting him to feel bad for you. 

It didn’t stop the man feeling guilty for making his assumptions, sensing that you found things harder than you were letting on to him. 

As the two of you fell silent, your daughter soon began to get quite unsettled in your hold. You quickly tried to settle her, bouncing her in your arms, but as a gust of wind blew through the car park, your eyes soon darted onto the sight of her pram beginning to blow away from you. 

“I got it!” The man shouted, running down the car park and quickly grabbing onto it. 

“You really are saving the day for me today, aren’t you?” You smiled. 

He looked around and found the brakes of the pram, quickly putting them on. Before you knew it, he had managed to collapse it down, placing it into the back of your car too, making sure not to squash any of your shopping. 

“You must have had some practice doing that before.” 

“No,” he smiled back across at you, “but I assumed it can’t be too hard to figure out. I’ve not really got any experiences with babies, although I’d like to,” he carried on, surprising himself that he suddenly decided to confess such a thing to someone that he barely knew. 

You didn’t quite know what to say as he spoke, offering him a sympathetic smile. You weren’t expecting him to be so open with you, leaving you a little loss for words. You almost felt bad for standing in front of him with your daughter in your arms, as if you were showing off that you had something that he seemed to want.  

“Does your partner not want children?” 

His eyes widened at your question, unaware that you had dropped yourself in it almost as much as he had done with you only a few moments earlier, feeling bad when his head shook at you. 

“I don’t have a partner,” he told you, scratching nervously over the top of his head. “I’m going through life on my own currently, that’s why I have so much time to help other people when they’re in a mess.” 

“Well, you definitely saved me from one today.” 

He was glad to have been able to help you out, but now he found himself unable to take his eyes off of your daughter. There was something about him that seemed to be drawing her to him too, her eyes watching him closely every time he moved or spoke. 

“I didn’t even get the chance to introduce myself, I’m Carlos by the way.” 

“I’m Y/N,” you smiled back across at him. 

“And who’s your little one?” He asked, poking your daughter’s tummy again. 

A giggle came from her that left you both grinning. “This is Luna,” you told him, “although I think you might be able to call her your biggest fan judging from the smile on her face.” 

“Well, I like to keep my fans happy, so do you think Luna would like to hang out again sometime?” Carlos offered, “I mean, only if that’s something that her mummy would like to do too.” 

“I think she would,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “and I don’t think her mummy would mind either if she got the chance to see you again, maybe coffee sometime?” 

Carlos nodded in reply to your offer. “I’d love to grab a coffee with you, well, the both of you. How about I give you my number and you can let me know a time that works best for the two of you?” 

“Yeah, that would be good,” you told him, walking across to place your daughter into her car seat so that you could take Carlos’ phone from him. 

His smile was wide as he passed it across, “make sure you text yourself from my phone so you have my number too. You can save my number as the guy who saved the day.” 

“You’re a bit of a hero, aren’t you?” You smiled. 

“Well, I certainly try my best.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[heartyluv]

love your blog so dang much 🫶🫶🫶 may I request protective Sylus who is there to prevent reader from harm in a sticky situation? (circumstances completely up to you) 💕

Note: Ahhhh, I can’t thank you enough. Making you happy makes me happy! I wasn’t too sure how to go about this, but I think it ended up coming out pretty decent. I hope you think so. It’s actually longer than I anticipated, too. Enjoy!

Warning: Shooting, Sylus kills someone, Gross man touches and hits you. Sylus arrives in time so nothing graphic happens, but please, still read with caution.

Word Count: 2,333

Sylus/Reader

“It’s not too late to change your mind. I can figure out how to get what I need another way.”

“I know you can. But I know I can do this for you.” You take hold of your worrying boyfriend’s hand, caressing his knuckles gently with your thumb.

“In and out, do you understand?” He says gruffly, concern etched in his tone. You look to Sylus with full attention, comprehending and digesting all of his words. “Do not compromise yourself and do not put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

“Just because I don’t care to do something a certain way, doesn’t mean it won’t be done in order to keep you safe,” he says firmly before taking your hand and sliding a small ruby red ring onto your thumb. “Do not hesitate to press this should you need me.”

When you offered to help your boyfriend complete a job, of course his first and immediate response was no. You weren’t trained, nor did he want you to be apart of this kind of aspect of his life. He was the one who got his hands dirty, who lied and manipulated who he needed to in order to get things done—not you. But you begged him.

You begged him so much, promised that you could help. You just wanted to feel useful. You wanted Sylus to know how much you really had his back, how dedicated you are to him. You wanted to prove yourself.

But he didn’t need you to do that because Sylus knew how much he could trust you and how much you cared for him. He was your protector and letting you do this goes against everything he stands for when it comes to keeping you safe. It was with complete reluctance when he finally caved and said yes to letting you enter a party undercover. It was only because he truly saw how much you were bothered and came to understand how important it was to you to be useful despite it being unnecessary in his eyes

It’s a fairly simple job. You’re to retrieve documents relating to the operations of an arms dealer trying to climb the ranks to surpass a top businessman like your boyfriend.

He wasn’t a threat, but Sylus handled his business in a way that never allowed something with potential to solidify. Knowing what this man was going for, who he was working with, and his plans, was all he needed to squash his business before it could really get off the ground.

You look down at the short tight black dress you put on, feeling slightly uncomfortable because not only did you not tend to wear clothes like this, but you were wearing it to flaunt yourself in order to gain the arms dealer’s, Mikael’s, attention.

Sylus’ main reason as to why he was allowing you to do this because he would be out here waiting for you with Luke and Kieran, ready to wreak havoc if necessary. Admittedly, if you were able to go in and obtain the information he needed, it would make his life incredibly easy, but difficultly wasn’t a foreign concept to Sylus. If anything happens to you, going in with guns blazing wasn’t above him, even if it would cause some hiccups that he’d have to deal with. He had no other plan at the moment and you were his best shot, but in the end? You were coming home with him unscathed.

You look out the window of the SUV you’re in and gaze at the large mansion with obnoxious strobe lights and loud music. Luke is parked right beside you in a sleek red sports car, ready to drive you to the front door so that you can have a flashy entrance. It’ll draw Mikael’s attention and unfortunately, that’s exactly what you need. Bringing your eyes back to Sylus, you softly smile and hope your nervousness isn’t so evident.

“I got this Sy, I promise. In and out.” He nods curtly, reaching over the center console and kissing your lips before sighing. He gives you the okay to go, watching you climb out of the passenger seat of the black vehicle and into the backseat of the expensive one. Kieran sits up in the backseat, patting his shoulder.

“She’ll be okay, Boss. She’s smart and we’re here for her if anything.”

But Sylus doesn’t speak. He simply watches the car turn onto the road and head to the house whose backyard he’s about to wait in while you’re inside. For their sake, you will be okay. Because no one will be able to control the man he will become if you aren’t.

When Luke drives off, your body buzzes with uncertainty. There’s no guards or anything, but you know they’re around. That incognito feeling and uncertainty of their placements has you on edge, but Sylus assured you that he had it covered. Slowly, you climb the marble steps and walk into the lavish home, feeling the beat pulse through your body as dozens of people gyrate against each other in any open space available.

And just as you thought, Mikael has been staring at you since the moment you came in. You know he heard the loud music Luke played, know he’s curious about the lone woman who’s come to his party.

Sylus showed you several images of him, so you’re not mistaken about who the older man is. Short, stubby, balding, and in his 50s.

Two women sit on his lap in the little VIP section he’s created from himself and he roughly squeezes their thigh, saying something before they stand up. Mikael is next, pushing past them with two cups of what you assume is alcohol, in his hand as he makes his way to you.

“And what is a pretty lady like you doing, coming here alone? Come to see me, hm?” His grin is mischievous and it makes you want to cringe as he hands you the drink of what smells like whiskey. But you promised Sylus. You promised yourself.

You smirk, stepping closer and looking him up and down, biting your lip to make him believe that you want him. What you really want is to vomit.

“And if I did?” you tease, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and his eyes fall to your mouth.

“I’d say you’re a smart broad.” He steps closer, his overpowering cologne washing over you as he whispers in your ear.

“I gotta say, ain’t been no girls as sexy as you in here tonight. Come to the VIP and we’ll see how lucky you get.”

Disrespectful and full of himself. Every single part of you wants to kick his ass.

You simply smile and nod, taking his sweaty hand and letting him guide you to the booths he has in the corner of what seems to be the living room. Sylus said his office is upstairs and that’s where he has the documents.

You’re so close. You won’t fail, you tell yourself.

It feels like hours go by as he gropes your body in ways that makes you want to have his hands shot off. From your ass to your thighs, he just keeps touching. But you need to get into that office. You refused to drink, trying to keep him talking and distracted with monotonous conversation.

And finally, finally he says what you’ve been waiting for.

“Why don’t I take you upstairs? Show you around?” He grabs himself through his pants, and the urge to hurl continues to grow. Your anxiety spikes as well, because this is exactly what Sylus said not to do, but it’s the only way you have.

“Don’t let yourself end up alone with him. If you can’t a way to the office by yourself, leave. I’ll be there for you.”

But you can’t leave. You won’t.

People continue to party as Mikael brings you upstairs and down one of many halls, showing you several different rooms. He’s flaunting his wealth clearly, as well as his status while he gloats on and on about how he doesn’t know what to do with all the space.

He passes a door though, and that makes you stop.

“What’s in here?” you speak up, and he turns around with a sly smile.

“Curious thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles. “My office. Nothing in there you need to worry your pretty little head about.”

“Mm, I’m not worried. But I do like offices. I like them a lot,” you let your words end in a flirtatious tone.

“Yeah? Tell me what you like.”

“Why don’t I show you?” He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Easy. Of course he is.

He pulls a key out of his pocket, using it to unlock the door. Paranoid too, it seems.

When you’re in the office, you look for the safe. Sylus mentioned that would be behind a painting and how convenient that there’s only one in here with Mikael sitting on a throne. Pitiful.

Before you can try and say anything, Mikael wraps his arms around your waist and your body tense as he kisses your neck.

“Wait—” You try and speak but he’s tugging at your dress.

“No wait,” he grumbles, his breath like lava on your skin. “You don’t get to tease me all night and try and take it slow, doll. Show me what you like about offfices so much.”

You try and push him back, but he just starts getting more aggressive. The more you pushback, the angrier he becomes. So much so that he hits you because of your resistance.

You fall to the floor due to the impact, your eyes widening with fear at what he might try and do. Is he going to kill you? Worse? You don’t want to find out.

You’re way in over you head. You hate that it took you this long to realize that, but you need help. You need Sylus and you need him now.

It’s as soon as you press the button on the ring that you start hearing gunfire. Mikael looks at you with accusatory eyes.

“You bitch!” he snarls. “What did you do?! Who do you work for?!”

He starts to snatch you up, griping your arm tightly, but the door kicks open, wood splintering and flying through the room. Sylus doesn’t even give him a chance to let you go. He simply shoots him in the knee, causing Mikael to fall to the floor in agony.

“I’m so sorry,” you mewl, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Sylus squats down next to you, his eyes raking over your body. It’s the sight of your disheveled clothes, the red print on your face and arm, and the fact that you pressed the button in the first place, that makes his blood boil. He’s fueled with rage, but he refuses to scare you more than you already are.

“You’re okay,” he promises you. “I’m taking us home.”

Mikael looks at Sylus with shock and fear, still disoriented from the pain.

“S-Sylus!” he shouts and your boyfriend stands, giving him attention and tilting his head.

“I mean, Mr. Sylus! I didn’t know—I swear, she came onto me! I would never—“

“Your attempt to excuse your actions only angers me more than I already am. For her, I will make your death swift.” He takes a step forward. “Had I not been so determined to make sure she remains okay, you would have felt more pain than the result of a bullet. You’re a poor excuse of a human being and there is no such thing as redemption for you. Maybe you’ll do better in your next life.” Sylus shoots Mikael so that one bullet is all he needs to end him, point blank.

You jump, tears falling down your cheeks. You’re embarrassed and shaken up. Sylus has killed in front of you before. That’s not what scares you. It’s just the intensity and reality of it all. You weren’t ready, and Sylus was right to be hesitant.

But he doesn’t think any of that at all.

“Come, sweetie,” he gently grabs hold of your hands. “I’m here. Can you stand?”

You nod, letting him help you up as he rests his suit jacket on your shoulders. He guides you out of the barren home and back into the SUV, throwing orders to the twins to get everything cleaned up and to get the files.

The drive is silent, all the way until you’re back home. Sylus helps you out the car when you arrive, taking you inside. He brings you to the grand bathroom and begins to undress you, then runs a hot bath with your favorite bath salts and soaps. He undresses himself next, letting you step into the tub first before climbing in and sitting behind you.

“I’m sorry…” you finally speak, only to apologize again.

“Don’t be,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I failed—”

“I failed. I knew better than to let you go in there, yet I did it anyway. But you’re safe now, kitten. As long as I’m breathing, you will always be safe. Do you believe me?”

“I do,” you say just below a whisper.

“Put all your faith in me. I won’t make the mistake of putting you in harms way ever again.”

Your eyes water again and you turn around, taking advantage of the large tub to sit in his lap. You wrap yourself around him, holding him close as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Sleep, sweetie,” he kisses your cheek. “I have you. I’ll take care of everything.”

You listen to him because you trust him as much as he does you. Had he not been there… you don’t even want to think of it anymore. All that matters is that he was. He will always come to your rescue because a life without you is not a life Sylus will ever experience. That, he is sure.

[imagineshere-forall]

- staying with mom pt. 2 ✰ e. diaz

Summary/Request: For a part 2 to Staying With Mom, maybe they’re at the hospital getting Mom checked out and both Chris and Eddie keep calling her mom. The reader is just having all the feels and she just loves it and Eddie loves it too. If you need more detail just let me know.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: poor medical knowledge and tooth rotting fluff

Pairing:  Eddie Diaz x fem!reader 

Word Count: 1.3k

Notes: Not super happy with how this turned out, but oh well, I missed writing and wanted to write some more. Please send requests im up to s7 of the walking dead, so am also taking requests for that! Also in this Shannon never came back, she left and Chris has no memory of her.

part one

The journey in the ambulance had been uneventful, despite there being a paramedic in the back of the van with you and your boys, Eddie had taken over your care. The paramedic that had been accompanying in the van had mostly just sat back and let him take over, occasionally pointing out where some bits of equipment were.

The pain in your leg was still excruciating, and it didn’t help that Eddie was shining a light in your pupils every few minutes to check the reactions. Once he realised your leg injury was not your only injury, and you had been knocked unconscious by debris, he had become frenzied urging the driver to go faster while he kept checking your vitals. You hadn't even told him you hit his head, but when he helped you to get a bit more comfortable on the stretcher he noticed the blood that stained his hand after he held your head.

“Eddie, I’m fine, my leg is just hurting” You said, pushing the torch away from your face after Eddie started checking your eyes again.

“Fine? Babe your head is bleeding and your leg is looking a bit squashed,” Eddie sighed. He was clearly worried about you. 

Chris had remained curled up to your side on the stretcher, clutching your middle, scared to let go. Despite the stressful situation, his heart had warmed at the sight in front of him. 

Once you had arrived at the hospital you were placed in the urgent waiting room. As you were still conscious and talking, people who had been more injured in the earthquake had taken priority over you. Due to the state of your leg the ambulance staff had placed you in a wheelchair and disinfected the stretcher before they headed back out to help more people. 

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asked, once again. 

“Chris, your dad is crazy,” You said, ignoring Eddie looking at the boy slouched over the arm of your wheelchair. Eddie rolled his eyes and smirked at this. 

It wasn’t much longer until you were called to be seen by a doctor, and your boys quickly stood up and wheeled you into the room with the doctor. Chris held onto your hand and walked alongside you as Eddie pushed you.

“How are you feeling?” The doctor asked as soon as she shut the door to the private room.

“Mom got hurt in the earthquake,” Chris spoke first. He was so quick that you hadn’t had the chance to speak yet. 

“Well, we better check mom out then,” The doctor said, smiling at Chris.

For the rest of the appointment, you were referred to as mom as the doctor tried to reassure Chris, and it just warmed something in your heart. Unknown to you but it also made Eddie’s heart swell. 

Despite you feeling fine, the doctor wanted to keep you for observation overnight and you had managed to convince her to let Eddie and Chris stay with you. Chris went back to being snuggled into your side once you were given a bed, and promptly fell asleep. 

“How are you feeling, mom?” Eddie whispered, putting emphasis on the last word. 

“Apart from the broken leg, I feel amazing,” you whispered looking down at the sleeping boy tightly curled into you. “I can’t believe he called me mom.”

“He loves you so much, as do I.” Eddie smiled as he leant forward to give you a small kiss “Which I guess means I've got to do something.”

You looked puzzled as Eddie leant over and shook Chris awake. 

“Eddie, he was asleep, what are you doing?” you ask, very confused, but your question was ignored.

“Chris, do you remember that thing I said I was going to ask mom one day, it’s time.” Upon hearing this Chris shot up, filled with so much energy and sat up at the end of your bed.

“Your jacket is over there dad” Chris pointed to the chair in the corner of the room. Eddie quickly stood up, and hurried over to the chair, almost slipping over on the clean hospital floors.

“Be careful Eddie, we don’t want both of us injured,” you sighed.

“It’s all good mom, don’t you worry,” he smiled.

Eddie sat down in the chair next to your head, jacket folded over on his lap, and took your hands in his.

“What are you doing?” You sit up a bit more in your bed, confused as to what was happening.

“It’s okay mom,” Chris said. It was hard to feel worried when he called you mom, it made you so happy. You turn back to Eddie who has your hands in his. 

“y/n, you have made both mine and Chris’s life so much better. There isn’t anyone I’d rather be Chris’s mom, and my wife.” Eddie paused, reaching into the inside zip pocket of his jacket. You wanted to ask what was happening, but you were in such shock you were speechless. In Eddie’s hand was a small velvet box. While holding the box, he went back to cradling your hand. 

“y/n will you do me the absolute pleasure of being my wife” Eddie’s voice started to crack. 

“And my mom!” Chris shouted.

“Yes, and Chris’ mom. Will you please marry me?” At this point, Eddie’s voice was wobbling while he awaited your answer. 

You struggled to speak, eyes streaming, your spare hand over your mouth in shock. Unable to get the words out you just nodded. 

“Yes?” Eddie questioned.

“Yes.” you nodded. 

Eddie quickly grabbed your hand and placed the sparkling ring that was once in the box on your ring finger, and then kissed your face all over before placing on last kiss on your lips while cradling your face in his hands. 

“Eddie, have you just been carrying around this gorgeous ring?” you asked as you began to admire the jewellery adorning your finger. 

“For about a year and a half,” he shrugged looking down at your hand. 

“We’ve only been together a little over 2 years,” you laughed. 

“I would’ve had it sooner, but it was really hard to get your ring size without being obvious.” he smiled.

“You are crazy Edmundo,” you laughed.

“Crazy for you, and now you’re stuck with me forever.”

“I wouldn’t want anything else, now get your butt on this bed, I want to have a cuddle with my boys,” you said as you shuffled making space for the three of you. Once Eddie was on the bed, you helped Chris get in the middle of you, it was tight and uncomfortable, but you didnt want to be anywhere else. 

“I love you guys, and now you’re my boys, forever.” you smiled as you placed a kissed on each of their heads.

“I love you mom” 

[lapbaby]

♰ sevikas obsession with watching you ⋆₊˚

description: kind of nsfw drabble about sevika who can’t get enough of your every move.

cw: suggestive, no smut, horny tho, pet names (baby, doll), reader wears a dress + is implied to be feminine, gendered terms (girl, etc) , reader “flips her hair” at one point

a/n: too lazy to write a fanfic right now so have this instead. as always please submit requests if you have any.

MINORS DNI.

Sevika watched you every time you came into the bar, eyes trained on your every move. Every time you laughed at something some sleazy guy said, clearly trying to swindle more drinks out of them. Every time you fluttered between the jukebox, to the tables, and back to the bar again. It was her favourite pastime.

Her eyes would linger so directly, so intensely, everyone at her table could feel it. If the way she repeatedly disregarded her hand of poker to watch you instead wasn’t obvious enough.

She loved when you got wilder and more carefree as the night progressed, a gradual but steady change that happened without fail every time. It revealed things about you, made her feel like she knew you through those little cracks in your party girl facade. Your skin slowly got hotter and hotter, little hairs sticking to your face and neck. Each drink made you feel looser as you transitioned from swaying slowly to the music to dancing, hips rotating to the rhythm of the song, enjoying yourself. Not one person in that joint was good enough for you. Couldn’t give you what you needed. Well, except for one. Her.

She could give you what you wanted, what you craved. You were only there for one thing. For someone to take care of you.

And it’s not like you didn’t notice her. Oh, you did. How could you not notice someone like her as soon as you step into a room? Her presence commanded the attention of everyone in attendance. It didn’t matter if she was storming through the building toward Silco’s office, having a drink at the bar, or sitting with her legs spread and a stack of cards clamped in her flesh hand like she was now, everyone saw her and you were definitely no exception.

The first time you caught sight of her, she was hustling over to a reserved table in the back, powerful muscles rippling with every movement. You needed to know her name. You turned to the bartender (Chuck, was it?) and asked him.

“Who’s that?” You gestured vaguely with your head in the direction of the imposing woman.

“That’s Sevika, Silco’s number two. I’d stay away from her if I was you, sweetheart.”

Over time, you loved reciprocating, staring back just as fiercely every time you noticed her. The urge to tease her from across the room was irresistible and you indulged in it. You intentionally licked your lips after every sip of your fruity drink, wore short short skirts just so you could show yourself off to her, whispered naught things in the ears of strangers at the bar, all while maintaining heady eye contact. You couldn’t help yourself with the addictive way her attentions made you feel, warm and breathless.

And you knew she loved it too, even when her jaw visibly clenched and the cards in her hand were squashed in her tight grip.

What you didn’t love was the waiting. The both of you would stare at each, practically fucking with your eyes, but neither one of you did anything about it. It was almost as if Sevika wanted you to beg for it, crawl to her on your hands and knees and plead for her to help you, take you, touch you. And you, well, you were just too damn stubborn for that.

So after countless nights of skirting around it, you took one last sip of your drink and marched toward the throng of bodies writhing and gyrating to the music.

If she wasn’t going to give in first, fine. You’d just have to make her.

It started off slow, closing your eyes and losing yourself in the music. The beat, heavy and pulsing, jumped in your ears and thrummed through your whole body. You tossed your hair over your shoulder as you moved in a tight, rhythmic circle, surrounded by flushed, sweaty bodies.

Your fingertips brushed against your skin, gliding up, up, up the length of your thighs. The urge to open your eyes and find hers, which were no doubt watching your every move, was overwhelming. But you steeled your resolve and continued this push and pull, rolling your hips much more purposefully now.

The relentless flickering shades of purple and blue cast an otherworldly glow across your sweaty flesh. Darkness, light, darkness, light again. You swivelled in Sevikas direction, knowing she was watching you, and of course she was. Her eyes were buried beneath furrowed brows, those deep pools of brown recognisable even with the distance between you. Every flash of light revealed her gaze again, increasingly torn between enjoying the view and stomping over to join you each time.

Slipping your eyes shut again, you decided to finish the show. Drive the nail straight into the coffin. And the closest idiot would have to do.

He was tall, brown hair, plain, not bad looking but definitely not who you really wanted. He was quick to follow your lead as you pulled him over, none too gently, by the arm and ground yourself right up against him, his hands floundering for a moment before you steadied them against your hips just like that.

Before you knew it he was gone, though. There was a flurry of movement and a little commotion, leaving you flustered and confused, but the big, solid wall of muscle that took his place immediately after told you all you needed to know. The thick, cloying smell of smoke and warm flesh surrounded you and you looked up, pleasantly unsurprised to find Sevika staring back down at you. The angle was a bit awkward and you couldn’t really see from the strobing lights but she looked a mixture of pissed and something else, her nose flared and extremely kissable mouth set in a frown.

The drinks, the music, the overstimulation of it all had your senses totally inebriated and your skin buzzing. You couldn’t help yourself from grinding back on her crotch, your skin meeting the cool, hard metal of her belt.

“Was waiting for you,” you said over the music.

She grunted, eyelids fluttering as she bumped against your ass repeatedly, assuming a senseless rhythm. Sevika leaned down to your height and spoke into the back of your ear.

“Can’t hear you, doll.”

Before you could reply, she began trailing little sucks and kisses down the skin of your neck. Your next response was breathy and jerky as you clenched your thighs together and leaned into her touch.

“Said I…w-was waiting for you to come take care of me.”

Sevika nodded and stilled your movements sharply with two large, firm hands on each hip.

“Let’s get out of here, baby, yeah?”

🇵🇸 click here for information on how you can help palestine

[bkgml]

hihihi!

idk if ur requests are open but i got an idea :)

bakugou/reader where they are in a secret relationship and the bakusquad sees them cuddling or whatever when they think nobody's around. maybe make them act like they hate each other infront of others hehe.

thanks in advance :D

oh yes yes i’ve already done two secret relationship posts u can find them on my masterlist :)) but i like this idea a lot so new one! lol

“hey kats.” you smile, seeing your boyfriend walk into the common room.

“shhhhhh.” he groans, agitated.

“hey?-” you frown.

“yeah yeah i love you, whatever. have a fucking headache.” he grumbles, crawling over you on the couch to lay his head on your chest, nuzzling into your soft shirt.

you smile, raking your fingers through his hair in attempt to soothe his headache.

“how come?” you say softly.

he stays quiet, unable to pinpoint what exactly caused this nuisance.

“..denki.” he says plainly with a deep frown on his face.

you laugh, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“you can’t just blame denki for all your inconveniences.” you say giggling.

he looks up at you with a pout and you peck his lips.

“yeah i can. he’s stupid.” he replies grumbling.

you squish his face in your hands and he sighs, eyes closing.

“that feels nice.” he mumbles, words distorted from his squashed lips.

“what?” you laugh, moving to release his face.

“hey. i said it feels nice. stay.” he grumbles, eyes closed.

you place your hands back on his face and he sighs, the pressure releasing the tension on his temples.

you place kisses all over his face, his squished cheeks, his pouted lips, his pretty lashes.

“can i just get you an advil? we can nap in my dorm?” you offer with a grin.

his eyes open slowly, annoyed with the harsh lights of the common room.

“are you gonna play with my hair?”

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

“i knew it!!” mina whisper shouts.

she feels a pinch to her arm.

“you didn’t know anything!” sero whisper shouts back.

“okay fine whatever, i didn’t. but this is INSANE.” mina yelps, eyes wide as saucers.

“i can’t believe he blamed me for his headache!” denki pouts.

kirishima rolls his eyes at his friend.

“why are you so quiet?” mina frowns, jabbing her finger in kirishimas chest.

kirishima freezes, attempting to stay cool.

“i just… wanna respect their privacy.” he defends.

mina grabs hold of sero and denkis shirts, tugging them close to her.

“he KNEW!!” she says, filled with anger.

she jumps up and down while shaking sero and denki furiously.

“dude! are you serious?!” denki asks.

kirishima crosses his arms over his chest.

“well… bakugou might’ve said a little something.” he smiles sheepishly.

“UGH. i hate you so much right now!”

the pair continues to argue as you and katsuki obliviously move around in the kitchen.

“they’re going to hear you, dipshits.” sero states plainly, already bored of this newfound information.

mina pouts, crossing her arms over her chest and kirishima goes silent.

“i want to get a closer look, see how fast they switch up when someone’s close.” denki smiles devilishly.

the three watch him go, wait till he’s out of earshot and then start dying of laughter.

“he is not smooth enough to pull that off.” sero grins.

“he’s going to get his ass kicked.”

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

katsuki watches boredly while you rustle through the medicine cabinet.

he groans, resting his forehead on the cool tile of the kitchen island.

“i know.. ‘m sorry kats. i can’t find the advil.” you frown, moving denkis flintstone gummy vitamins.

“i don’t need it, just need to sleep. come on.” he sighs, fisting at your shirt.

“hey guys! what’s going on here?” denki cheers as katsuki tears his hand off of you.

“hey denki.” you murmur, continuing to move throughout the shelf.

“do you know where the advil is?” you sigh, turning to denki.

denki frowns, upset at the lack of drama in this room.

“no idea… why do you need it?” he questions.

“bak- i… have a headache..” you murmur slowly, catching your almost mistake.

denkis brows pull together, glancing at bakugou still hunched over with his forehead on the counter.

“what’s wrong with you then?” denki asks with a smirk.

“shut the fuck up before i knock your lights out.” katsuki seethes, remaining in his weakened position.

you giggle as denkis eyes widen.

“wow kami, he means business.” you say grinning.

kaminari’s ears turn bright red from embarrassment, frustration bubbling up in his veins.

“oh shit denki… don’t say it.” mina mutters and kiri and sero understand exactly what she means.

the three of them watch as kami’s hands ball into fists and his brows pull together.

“temper tantrum.” sero sighs.

“yeah?! well i know you two are going at it!” denki screams at bakugou.

“kats-”

katsuki lunges forward, gripping denki by the front of his shirt.

“well shit. come on.” kiri says quickly, hitting sero.

you watch as katsuki’s arms are restrained by kirishima and sero wraps his arms around denkis middle, the two pulling them apart.

“we’re sorry!” kirishima groans from behind your boyfriend.

“it’s fine.” you mutter, knowing katsuki’s only mad because of his headache.

“it’s not fine! get off of me shit stain!” katsuki screams.

kirishima looks to you for reassurance. you nod, and kirishima releases him.

katsuki lunges forward once again and you grab him by the ear.

“ah ah ah.” katsuki halts while groaning in pain.

you sigh, giving straight mouthed looks to your friends.

“upstairs.” you say forcefully to katsuki, pinching his ear hard then releasing.

he groans, giving a look to denki before turning on his heel and stomping up the stairs.

“we’re sorry-”

“-we didn’t mean to-”

you hold your hands up in front of their faces, effectively silencing them.

“night.” you mutter, trudging up the stairs behind your boyfriend.

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

as soon as you are out of earshot the four of them erupt.

“DID YOU SEE HOW HE LISTENED TO HER?!”

“HES DOWN BADDDD!!”

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

“fucking denki.” katsuki groans.

“yeah yeah just get in bed you big baby.” you giggle softly and katsuki glares at you.

he climbs in bed, reaching his hand out to pull you in by your shirt.

“im coming relax.” you laugh.

he frowns deeply, folding his arms over his chest.

you smile, climbing into bed beside him.

staring into his eyes, you search for answers in his tired gaze.

“how’s your head?” you whisper, leaning forward and brushing his bangs back to reveal his cute forehead.

he frowns and lets a groan slip from his lips.

“they just had to pick today to find out, huh?” he mumbles, grabbing your hand.

you giggle softly, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“right, cause any other day you’d be soooo understanding?” you smirk up at him.

he scoffs, pushing your face away with his big hand.

“just wanted you all to myself…” he says under his breath, as if he didn’t even want you to hear him.

you feel your heart melt, shifting close to his face.

his breath hitches subtly as you turn your face to press open mouth kisses down his jaw.

he reaches for your thigh, pulling your leg over his hips.

you continue to kiss at his neck and jaw, placing a kiss to his adams’ apple as it bobs in his throat.

“you have me, okay?” you murmur against his skin.

he nods, arms wrapping around you in a bear hug.

“right.” you giggle.

“forgot its past your bedtime.”

[orphicmeliora]

Secret identity au

You're what people call a walking disaster. You walk into a room, down a street, through a building, hell, even a park bench—anywhere at all—and it's almost guaranteed that someone, somehow, is getting hurt. Maybe a potted plant falls on a passerby. Maybe a toddler accidentally kicks you in the shin with a toy truck. Maybe a scooter mysteriously careens down a ramp and knocks over a vendor's hotdog stand. Either way, pain is usually involved, and statistically speaking, it’s either you or some other poor unfortunate soul caught in your gravitational field of chaos.

The worst part? Most of the time, it’s not even your fault. It’s like the universe itself has you on speed dial for comedic misfortune. Things just happen around you—doors swing open, drinks spill, ceiling tiles fall. Some say you’ve got a black cat’s luck. Others whisper it’s your evol to attract chaos like a lightning rod. Like some sort of cosmic magnet for near-death experiences.

Enter this Lumiere guy who shows up out of nowhere every time you need help. The masked man with a heroic streak and perfect timing. He always seems to be there the second you're dangling from a balcony, caught in a runaway shopping cart, or about to be squashed by a suspiciously fast-moving food delivery drone. He’s graceful, mysterious, and efficient—like if Batman had a Pinterest board full of soft lighting and silk capes. Naturally, you’re halfway in love. Because who doesn’t catch feelings for the guy who literally saves your life every 48 hours? The mask only makes it worse, honestly. What does he look like? Why won’t he take it off? Why does his voice sound like a lullaby dipped in espresso? It's all very stressful.

Anyway, fast forward. You're back from a long shift of not dying (you tripped, a ladder fell, long story), and you’re practically vibrating with excitement over your latest Lumiere sighting. So you do the most obvious thing: call your bestie to fangirl.

You're pacing in the hallway, phone pressed to your ear, animatedly relaying every detail ("I swear, his cape glowed when the sun hit it—no, I'm not exaggerating! And then he caught me—like, full-on princess-style caught me, I thought I was gonna die, but no, he just—ugh, the way he looked down at me, I swear—") when the elevator finally dings and the doors glide open.

That’s when you notice him.

You falter mid-sentence. “Hold on, I think my neighbor wants to murder me with his eyes.”

Xavier doesn’t even blink.

He’s standing a few feet away, waiting to get past you into the hallway, staring like you’ve personally offended his ancestors. As your words trail off, he levels you with the kind of look usually reserved for gum on expensive shoes.

You lower the phone slightly. “Uh…hi?”

Nothing. Just a sharp exhale through the nose and that judgmental, soul-piercing stink eye like you’re the human equivalent of elevator Muzak.

The man is wearing a plain white hoodie and sweatpants like he walked out of a moody fitness ad, and yet he exudes the same intensity as someone plotting world domination—or at the very least, filing a very strongly-worded HOA complaint.

You step aside as he brushes past, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “loud.” The nerve.

Okay then.

You resume your call, lowering your voice only slightly. “I don’t know what this guy’s deal is. I’m not that loud. Maybe he’s allergic to joy?” Okay, maybe your voice carries, but you’re excited! You could’ve died! Again! Some people journal. Some people drink. You cope with high-volume storytelling and minor public disturbances.

And you’re just about to get over it when something weird happens. Just for a second, Xavier's hoodie sleeve slips up as he adjusts the grocery bag in his hand.

There’s a flicker of something silver peeking out from under the fabric. Thin, intricate. Almost…mask-like?

Wait.

No.

It can’t be.

Can it?

[daughterwifed]

ADA ADORE !

ft. di!leon s. kennedy x gn!reader x ada wong

tags. toxic relationship, divorce sorry idk how to tag this, smut mentions, age gap mention, character study..? oral happens a little, dub-con

note. HAIIII IO HAPPY EARLY BDAY! @girlfridged this is a year and many months overdue it’s been in my drafts for so long I wanted to write it so bad for ages but I couldnt n I thought I’d finally do it before I get busy w exams ILYSMMMMM I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U NEED ilysm and I just want u to have fun and be happy and I hope ada brings that to u 💔🤍 unedited + clunky n disjointed per usual .. io I accidentally made this more ab aeon I’m so sorry I will make it up to u LMFAKDKFK feedback n rbs always appreciated

It’s not working out.

It hasn’t been working out since they tied the knot. 

There’s no honeymoon phase when you marry a woman like Ada Wong. In fact, there is no phase at all. There were no rings and no ceremony and when they went to bed that night Leon realised they both ran cold—Two cold bodies in a bed is just a shared grave. 

They both work a lot so they’re married on vacation days, but Leon’s not around on Christmas, and Ada’s busy on New Years so they settle for birthdays. Easter is out of the question - Ada doesn’t have time to believe in trivial things like god and Leon still ducks like the devil anytime he sees a cross. 

They remember they’ve chosen each other between global collapse and political demise and the occasional personal trauma—AKA Leon’s birthday. Not hers. Never hers.

It’s the one day in the whole entire year they pretend the world doesn’t need saving. 

(In Ada’s case, ruining.) 

She gives him a pretty little present, fucks him like it’s a threat, and sometimes, only sometimes, Leon gets to fall asleep in the same timezone as her. 

Leon thought about getting a dog. Something warm, loyal, friendly, something to come home to. When he told her she teased him. And he let her—Of course he did, he would let her push him flat on his back in an active minefield. 

“You want me to be a dog, Leon?” She got on her knees and crawled towards him and it was really sexy, but he took his meds before they got in bed and any chance of a boner had been deemed impossible. 

“I just want you to come home,” he had let out by mistake, and then Ada dried up because she doesn’t really feel anything that isn’t lust or some cruel type of need to have him squashed under her thumb and him getting needy outside of the bedroom is her number one turn-off. 

As of how they’re doing right now? 

Ada’s current location is unknown. He sent a message three days ago. He wasn’t even sure if it was the correct number. 

Leon: Alive? 

She left him on read. Whatever. Pretty generous for Ada. Means she’s not causing any trouble. Maybe she’s just taking time away from him. He understands. Leon often needs space from himself. And somehow from her considering how little she is home. One day with Ada stretches on for an eternity, it wrings him out, hangs him up to dry. It’s like the whole entire world is put on pause because she said so. He can’t get away from himself and not from Ada either—he sees her in the mirror everyday because they have the same goddamn haircut. 

He goes to work. Sits on his chair purposely hard. Stares at the ceiling like he’s waiting for god to send a memo. 

To: l.kennedy@dsoperations.gov.usa

Subject: Leave her. Fix your marriage. Get a dog. 

Attachment: Miracle. 

Leon wishes he knew how to talk to her. Like, actually like, talk—Like not in his head, but with his mouth and from his heart. Open up about all those big, big feelings he keeps having. But he’s not stupid, he knows Ada would probably smile at him, and in that smile he would see the exact moment she would decide not to want him. Because she doesn’t do feelings or emotions or therapy or any of the sissy bullshit Leon has really gotten into in these past few years. 

“Good morning, Leon.” Hunnigan rarely says it first, only when he’s brooding.

Leon sighs deeply. He pretends he doesn’t see Helena roll her eyes in his peripheral. “Yeah…” He nods slowly—forlornly. “Good morning.” 

“What’s wrong with you today?” She asks flatly. “Will you let me know by lunch so I can file the appropriate forms?” 

Helena snorts. Leon sighs again. Deeper. Sadder. Like, please fawn over me, at least offer to make me a coffee I won’t drink and let me rest my head on your bosom while you do all this complicated big boy paperwork for me. 

“I’m having girl trouble, put that on my file if you want.” Leon sniffs, crossing his arms and wondering if his marriage would benefit from whatever him and Hunnigan have going on; they have been work-wife and work-husband for eleven years now. It could be the back and forth. Sarcasm. But no. His therapist says sarcasm is hiding, which to be completely honest is true, he is hiding. Always has been. 

They don’t know about Ada—Not really. They know of her. That she goes up like smoke. That he keeps her compact in his drawer. That she is probably still wanted for treason by the country he lives and dies for. That she killed Helena’s sister and all. First by proxy and then by hand. They certainly don’t know her and Leon are quote-unquote married. 

“Maybe she’s seeing someone else,” Helena offers unhelpfully. 

“Why the hell would you say that?” He shakes his head, pointing a finger at her. “You don’t even know who she is.”

“I’m statistically speaking - based on all of your dates,” she adds, also unhelpfully. 

“Mm,” Hunnigan hums in agreement, “how old is this one?”

“Older than me,” Leon says proudly, like it’s some sort of accomplishment—but it is, for a moment he really did forget about himself, all his morals, he fucked a twenty-one year old and everything. A mid-life crisis, but he’s all better now. 

“How old?” Helena sits up, interested. “Your age kind of old?“

“I’m not even forty, Helena.” Leon doesn’t look up from the floor, pouting at the scuff marks on his shoes.

“Fifty?”

“God, I wish, but no.” 

 “Sixty?” Hunnigan chimes in without looking away from her monitor. 

“No.”

“Is she as old as that lunch lady you flirt with?” Helena scoots her chair closer. 

“Hey! First of all, her name is Hazel, and she is not just the lunch lady, she’s the head and she rotates the menu by season, runs the whole thing…” He trails off. 

Silence. 

“…But no, not that old, Jesus.” Ada is a cougar not a fucking sabretooth. “She’s got a couple years on me, like forty-something I guess.” He doesn’t even know her fucking birthday. Some husband he is. 

“Is it serious?” 

Leon looks at Helena like she’s stupid. Like anything could ever be fully serious with Ada. Everything is a sick joke to her, but it’s not. It’s not a joke—this is his fucking life. His stupid, sad life. ”Kind of, yeah, I guess—For me it is.” 

“But not for her, huh?” Helena clicks her tongue, giving him a sympathetic look. 

An hour or so later when they’re all in a meeting, Leon is too busy wondering how they fit such a big table through such a small door, why he is destined for so much fucking pain, whether or not Helena and Hunnigan are playing footsie right under his nose. Maybe if Ada was a man-eater with teeth the size of his head he wouldn’t like her so much. Maybe if his dick was bigger she wouldn’t be so inclined to leave. Maybe if it was nicer—No…No. it couldn't be that. His dick is nice. Nicer than most. Neatly trimmed pubes, nice shape, nice length, tasteful curvature, he’s got some lovely gradient going on. Jesus Christ, this table is huge. Did they build the room around it? Is that a thing people can do? It couldn’t come in parts it’s literally fucking solid oak. Does it fold? Everything folds eventually. Helena shifts beside him—Is she making eyes at Hunnigan? Is she seriously…Can Hunnigan even see all the way over on the opposite side of this huge-ass table? 

“Agent Kennedy?”

Leon’s eyes shoot up, going from bigwig to bigwig until he finds the speaker. A senator of some kind with a tarmac grey suit. “Yes… Yes, sir?”

“Some input on the current strategy?” It’s not unkind, more wanting of guidance from someone who’s been in the game as long as Leon has.

“My dick is fine,” Leon says on autopilot. 

Everyone is looking at him. That pretty intern he got a coffee for stifles a laugh into her hand, Hunnigan is staring him down, Helena is trying not to smile. 

“Sorry, thought I was on mute.” 

“You’re…You’re not on call, Agent Kennedy.” 

“Right.” Leon nods. “Obviously. 

He looks back down at the table.

It’s still too big for the room.

Leon comes home late. Which is usual. So he guesses he’s coming home on time. He isn’t over how big the table is, he isn't over talking about his dick in front of presidential advisors, and he isn’t over Ada like he would really like to be. 

He aims to throw his jacket on the wooden coat she bought. Gothic. Curling arms, and a mahogany base. He misses and his jacket slumps to the ground like a wounded animal. 

She’s cheating on me. Helena is right. She’s with someone else. She left me on read so that means she’s not even doing fieldwork, she’s just ignoring me on purpose. 

Leon blinks at his reflection in the oval mirror Ada placed in the entrance hall. 

But she can’t be. Look at him. Look at him. Look at those eyes. Look at that nose. Don’t look at the chin. She’s not cheating. She’s just Ada. Sexy, career-driven, free, independent—Oh god. But what if she is? What if she is cheating on him? With some hunk like Chris. Not because Leon thinks Chris is hot, but maybe Ada thinks he is. 

And then he sees them.

Her heels kicked off in the corner. The ones she wears on date nights. The one she wears to see other men probably. Leon crouches down to study them, running a finger over the patent leather, flipping them upside down to see the weathered red bottoms. He has kissed these a thousand times.

“Are you talking to my shoes, Leon?” 

Leon’s heart thumps out of his chest. 

“You're home,” he breathes out, waiting for someone to step out from behind her, freshly showered, using his towel. Taller, stronger, bigger—

“I wanted to see you.” She’s not wearing any makeup and she looks her age and it’s so fucking sexy. 

“Are you cheating on me?” Leon blurts out. 

Ada smiles at him like What if I am? What will you do about it? You’d stay with me anyway, wouldn’t you? You pathetic excuse of a man. “What makes you think that?”

“You left me on read.”

“You asked me if I was alive, Leon.” 

“Yeah—Yeah, and you never said yes.”

“I read it.” 

“Still—“

Ada cuts in, “Why don’t you come to bed, babe, I was so lonely waiting up for you.” She leaves no room for argument so he follows her into the bedroom, he lets her take off his clothes and wash his face and kiss him on the head as she tucks him in.

“Why did you call me babe?” Leon mumbles as he tucks his face into her neck, breathing her in. 

“What’s wrong with babe?” Ada asks him, falsely tender, antiseptic affection. 

“I dunno…It’s, like, it reminds me of the pig.” 

She laughs. He wants to hear her do that again. Make a fool out of himself to make her smile or snort. “Fine, you’re my baby.” 

He settles down after that as Ada traces shapes into his skin with the points of her manicured nails. It would be nice if she wasn’t pressing so hard. “Too hard,” Leon complains, twisting in discomfort. 

“Lingchi, pressure massage,” Ada explains, “ancient technique.” 

He rolls over while she lingchis his back to Google it. 

Lingchi

Lingchi, usually translated "slow slicing" or "death by a thousand cuts", was a form of torture and execution used in China from roughly 900 until it was banned in 1905. It was also used in Vietnam and Korea.

Source: Wikipedia

Leon is still rubbing sleep out of his eyes when Ada says it. Buttering her toast casually. Red dress. Red lips. Red heels. “By the way, I’m sleeping with someone.”

Just like that. There’s no ‘we need to talk’ or ‘I’m leaving you’. Nope. Not at all. 

“I’m sorry?” He blinks. 

She doesn’t look up from her toast. Dipping the knife into a pot of strawberry jam he didn’t even know they had. “It’s just sex, Leon.”

“I thought you…I love you, Ada.” He blinks again. Maybe thrice. 

“I know you do, baby.” She smiles. “You're still my husband.”

“How could you—I don’t…I don’t understand, Ada.” 

She places the toast on the counter in front of him. “I have to go now, I don’t have time to talk about it today, baby.” She kisses his cheek. Grabs her bag. “I’m very busy, why don’t you tell your journal all about it?”

“I don’t have a—“

“Drive safe, baby!” Her heels click-clack as she leaves.

Leon sits in traffic that morning thinking about it. 

By the way, I’m sleeping with someone. 

It’s just sex, Leon.

You’re still my husband. 

It’s not raining, but the wipers are going off, and he flips off a man in the car next to him without thinking. 

How could she? How could she just say that? Who fucking does that? Ada would. Ada can. Ada does. 

He thinks about crashing his car into the lobby of the DSO. 

He zones out during a meeting. For the second time. Hunnigan gives him a look that says If you’re thinking about killing yourself, please do it after this meeting.

He eats lunch alone in the break room. He opens his phone six times in five minutes and there’s nothing. 

What does this guy even look like? What does he do—What could he do to get her attention? Ada’s attention. To get her to want him, fuck him, leave Leon on read for three days to be with him. What is it about him? Taller? Blonder? Younger? Sweeter? Stupider? No…There’s no one stupider than Leon. No one is more pathetic than Leon. It can’t be. 

He drives home, clammy, hands slipping off the wheel thinking about this man. Thinking about finding out who the fuck he is, finding his address, sizing him up and ultimately leaving when he realises Ada has found herself someone that isn’t shorter than her when she puts on heels. And Ada is always wearing heels. 

He steps inside, holding his breathing, for once he is hoping she isn’t home so he has time to pace, drink, contemplate and repeat.

But her shoes are kicked off in the same spot, and there’s an open bottle of wine on the countertop. The balcony door is open, Ada is leaning against the railing watching the city beneath them, the ballet of life, cars passing by, people rushing home from work, young girls going out for the night.

She doesn’t even look at him when she speaks, fixing the fallen shoulder of her silk robe. “I want you to meet someone.” Then she turns, bare-faced, beautiful, gazing at him over the rim of her wine glass. 

“What..?”

“Oh, Leon, don’t pout.” Ada sighs, placing her glass down beside the unused ashtray. 

“I’m not—“

“Come here, baby, come give me a kiss.” She points at her heart-shaped mouth and he stumbles closer like a zombie, pawing at her robe as she cups his cheeks to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Good boy.” Ada smiles at him. That same smile she always has. “Tomorrow at seven, okay? Clear your schedule.”

And Leon does. He always does. He leaves work at four to get cucked at seven. 

Ada gives an address to the driver who keeps making eye contact with Leon in the rear view mirror. She keeps her hand on Leon’s thigh the entire time. She tells him how handsome he looks in that suit - his only suit - he rushed to dry clean this very morning. He looks the part of her husband. A very well-kept man on a very short leash. They don’t need rings because Leon is already wrapped around her finger. 

They pull up in front of this great, sprawling building, stone steps, bustling crowds, a sign that says something about an exhibition—Ada is walking too fast for him to read it properly, and she’s in fucking heels too. He catches up with her in the cool hush of the gallery lobby, thank god there’s air conditioning, he’s about to sweat right through this jacket. 

She looks effortless like always, he’s seen her naked and he still finds it hard to believe she even exists. Women are just something else. Ada has sexy legs, and painted toes, and she even has sexy fucking ankles—

“Come on, baby.” She leads him like a duckling, and it raises the question—

“What are we doing here?” Leon asks, clearing his throat, trying not to look at her ass in that high-necked, jewel-toned dress. Jesus. What if her boyfriend is an art dealer? What if he’s fucking loaded? What if this is all a trick? A ploy. A fucking joke. She’s trying to rope him into something bad.

“I told you, I want you to meet someone, Leon,” she answers simply. “Oh, look at that piece.” She waves her hand in the direction of a blank canvas. 

“Brilliant, really, I could never pull that off,” he mumbles, a deep pout settling on his face as he follows her past paint splattered canvases, statuettes, and a man who she humours for exactly fifty-nine seconds before she says:

“Leon, why don’t you tell this nice man how many times you came this morning?”

Leon doesn’t even fucking trip on a single word. “Four,” he says, loud and proud, but he’s more just loud than proud. This is really quite fucking humiliating and he’s thinking of throwing himself down that gorgeous spiral staircase as some act of artistic vengeance, become part of the exhibition, y’know? 

“There you are!” Ada smiles, and it’s the same sort of smile she gives Leon, but different. Like. Sweeter. Luring. Pure fucking Evil. Like I want to fatten you up and eat you. 

He scans the room for the suspect. Which fucking bastard is fucking his fucking wife? There’s a curator on one side, but he’s much too old for Ada. The few in the turtlenecks—Never. Velvet suit? Moustache? Oh, it’s got to be that one. Baby blues, wheatish hair, hands in his pockets like he doesn’t quite fit in. That’s him. Pft. Leon could take him easy—Oh, they’re not even walking in his direction—

“Ada!” 

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. Oh no. No. This is so much worse. He can’t beat up a little kid. You’re like shorter than both of them, she leans down to kiss both your cheeks, and you're smiling at her like she has the key to your heart—She probably does, she has the key to his cock cage. 

(Not that he actually has one. Leon hasn’t gone that far yet, he likes to believe he has standards.) 

“Leon,” she beckons him closer with a finger, introduces the two of you.

You put out your hand for him to shake, clearly a little nervous as you tell him, “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

“Wish I could say the same,” he mutters, loosely taking your hand, making sure to wipe it on his trousers when you let go of him. He can’t beat you up, but he sure as hell can be petty.

“Leon.” Ada laughs like a mother does when she’s trying to play down her child’s petulance. “Be nice, baby.” 

She’s insane. She has got to be crazy if she thinks Leon is going to put up with this. She’s talking to you all nice like We have dinner soon, but I just had to come and see your art. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. I really am. You’re so much more accomplished than my loser husband. My snooty little angel, look at your beautifully useless art, my tactically skilled, special agent husband could never be as talented as you. Oh no, he could never. And she thinks he’s going to stay? Yeah right. Never. 

Leon has standards. He does. He’s going to leave right now, he’s going to block her number, put her minimal shit in a bag, and toss it over the balcony. He’s going to hand her over to the President on a silver platter. He’s going to leave a bad review on your art. Is there a website for that? There’s gotta be. There’s a website for everything now. Ugh—Ugh. You’re not even anything special. Not the kind of beauty that offends women or intimidates men, but to Leon it does both. 

“The reservation is soon, we should head over,” Ada says, looping her arm with yours and waiting for Leon to follow.

He does follow. Glaring at your back. A threesome has been on his bucket list for years, sure, but not like this. It was meant to be sexy. Not cheating. 

Leon fumes silently all the way over to the restaurant, while the waiter leads the three of you to the cushioned booth at the back, when Ada slips into the booth beside you, when your foot knocks his under the table, when the waiter hands over the menus. 

The two of you are talking, it sounds like noise to him, like he’s underwater. You keep looking at him with these great, big eyes. Like you're waiting for him to say something. Or maybe you’re testing him. Maybe you want him to leave. He wants you to leave. 

Ada is too sneaky. She’s like a cat, they're nifty little things—Ada is twice as sly. She’s cunning. Like a fox. Yeah. That sounds right. A fox. A beautiful, red fairytale fox that talks its way out of dirty work. Leon is some stupid, hysterical damsel that needs a kiss to snap out of it. And you’re a wretched little toad and you’re going to get what’s coming for you, for being a part of this, for being her side piece, for making her smile like that. 

“So,” Leon finally cuts into the conversation you’ve been having without him for a good twenty minutes, “when were going to tell me you had a partner, Ada.”

She scoffs at him lightly, a smile playing on her red lips. “I don’t do boyfriends or girlfriends, Leon, I’m forty.” 

“What does that even—“

“It’s just sex, Leon, I told you that before, I wish you would listen.” 

It’s always just sex with Ada. All he gets is sex. All you get is sex. Maybe the two of you aren't so different. Maybe you’re both little mice and Ada is going to eat you both up. 

“Leon is so sentimental,” Ada sighs, shaking her head like he’s such a hassle. 

You smile at him awkwardly. He just stares. Ada takes her fork, holding it up so the tines bar his face like she’s putting him in public timeout, in jail. “He’s just so emotional, I mean, really, you know how men get.”

You shift in your seat, unsticking your thighs from the leather booth. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.” You smile at him again, nervous, fraying, like he isn’t what you expected—It’s Ada. It’s all Ada she probably marketed this as some fucking chic ménage á trois. 

Leon just sits there like he’s just been hit by a train and is trying to be casual about it. Of course she did. Of course she did and that’s why he goes on a second date with you and her. That’s why he drives the two of you home a week later. His wife and the person she’s fucking. 

This week has been tense. Dinner was tense. This drive is tense. You clear your throat in the back seat. “Um…Honestly, you could drop me a couple blocks away from home, it’s actually right down there—“

“No, no, sweetheart,” Ada gasps, like a really fake gasp, “we couldn’t do that to you, it’s so dark out.”

“It’s fine,” you insist, he watches you through the rear view mirror, how your hands twitch in your lap, the way you lick your dry lips, “I just don’t want to be intruding on anything.”

“You’re not intruding, sweetheart.” 

Yes you are. 

“It’s just that…Mommy and daddy are fighting, honey.” Ada sighs a long-suffering sigh.

Impressively, Leon doesn’t swerve off the road, but the car does jerk and sputter. You look like you’re about to cry, or jump out of the moving vehicle, or like you’ve been told Santa isn’t real, or that he’s in jail for indecent exposure. 

“Ada…” Leon mumbles, shaking his head at her, “don’t.” 

“Why, Leon?” She huffs like this is it not some psychosexual hostage situation. “Children should know when their mommies and daddies aren't doing well, communication is very healthy.” It’s all a game to her. She’s so callous and insincere and awful and frighteningly beautiful. 

“Stop it, Ada.” He white-knuckles the steering wheel, does a red light, thinks about taking both of you down with him.

“Oh my god,” you mumble from the back, sinking into your seat like you want to disappear. Poor kid. You don’t even know what you’ve gotten yourself into. 

“Just take us home now, Leon,” Ada says, sniffing dramatically as she gazes out of the window. 

So he drives. Pedal to the metal. Reverse parks in record time. Kills the engine. Ada’s already out the door, leaving behind a cloud of perfume, heels clicking on the concrete, you’re following like a ghost, footsteps barely audible. 

“Shoes off,” Ada hums as she floats into the apartment she has never once called home. 

You won’t meet his eye. Not even Ada’s. Just standing there all small. Breakable. Looking at the ground—It’s not like there’s much to take in. Underfurnished. Empty glasses litter every flat surface. Leon’s leather jacket is draped over the sofa. 

“You two are the same,” she laughs, it echoes down the hall as she leaves a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom, and look at you two. So easily led. Hansel and fucking Gretel over here.  “So dramatic, so sentimental, so hysterical—I mean at least you’re quiet about it, sweetheart, Leon throws a tantrum,” she muses as she edges her panties off her ankles. “God, don’t just stand there, help each other out.” 

Leon makes the first move. He feels bad. Doesn’t know if he wants this, if he wants you, but he does it ‘cause she said so. You’re nervous, heart like a hummingbird in your chest, he feels it when he rather unfeelingly unbuttons your shirt. He nudges you onto the bed gently, you have nice hips, nice legs, nothing about you is wrong—It’s just him that’s wrong. What he’s gotten himself into. 

“You need help down there, Leon?” Ada tilts her head to the side as he spreads your thighs, leant on her elbow, busy mouthing at your neck, kissing your jaw, tweaking your nipple every few seconds like it’s a fidget toy. 

“I know my way around, thanks” he mumbles, and if there’s one thing he can focus on it’s eating pussy. He likes the way it tastes, the way it smells, how soft it is on his tongue. Pussy would never hurt him. 

You arch when he kisses your clit, you whine when he pushes a second finger in, when his lips close around your clit and he sucks. You don’t scroll through your phone waiting to be impressed like Ada would. 

He wipes his mouth when you cum, sitting up, breathless. “You happy now?” 

“Oh, Leon, why don’t you come here, handsome?” Ada pats the space between you and her. He doesn’t move. Not this time. She purses her lips. “Leon has such a dangerous job,” she starts.

You blink the fog from your mind, turning to face her, spine straightening like every hair on your body stands to attention when she speaks. Even if you don’t want it to you—She’s magnetic. 

“He’s a hero, really, he does so much to keep everyone safe—He’s not allowed to talk about it, but he does so much for all of us.” Ada trails a hand down the front of his jeans, cupping his dick. “I’m just so glad this is all in one piece.” 

“Are you really, Ada?” He asks, staring at her. 

“Yes, Leon, I am.” She smiles, practiced. 

“I think we should take a break, Ada,” he says, dick still rock fucking hard.

“I really…I really think I should go,” you murmur, rubbing your eyes—He respects it. You got to cum, and now you’re leaving. “I really appreciate the invite—“

“Well, Leon.” Ada dusts herself off, still smiling. “If that’s what you think is right.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Hm.” She nods, then she looks to you, patting your head, smiling, cooing so you can’t get out of her fucking trap. “I get to keep you, and daddy gets to keep the office and the printer.”

You scratch the back of your neck. “…I mean okay—I didn’t really, I mean…Okay.” 

“Then I guess I’ll print the fucking papers,” Leon confirms, and it’s over like that. He sees his grief over to the door. Doesn’t kiss her goodnight. Just passes her onto you. 

[ducksido]

Hello hello, love your writing :)

Could we have some interactions with the overblot boys and a reader who is terrified of spiders? Like, there's a spider in Ramshackle, and y/n either wants them to kill it or hide in their dorm.

-🐁 anon

Riddle Rosehearts

"It's just a spider—wait, Yuu? Are you...crying?"

You had been frozen mid-step in the common room, eyes locked on a massive, hairy spider crawling up the wall. The second Riddle walked in, you let out a trembling, “Get it. Get it right now or I’m sleeping outside.”

Riddle, assuming it was something serious, followed your trembling finger. "...That?" He tried to lecture you—something about rational fears and the spider being more afraid of you than you are of it—but you started tearing up.

“Oh Great Seven—fine! Stand back. I’ll eliminate it.”

He whacked it with a rolled-up rulebook. Then cast Flame just to be sure. You’re not sure if it was necessary, but hey. It’s dead. He ends up brewing calming tea for you and even checks the rest of Ramshackle for more eight-legged threats—just in case.

Leona Kingscholar

“You’re making that face over a bug?”

You practically tackled him the moment he entered the dorm. “There’s a spider the size of a hand in my room. Kill it. Please.”

Leona squinted at you like you’d just asked him to wrestle a ghost. “Seriously? You’ve survived overblots, and this is what takes you out?”

He sauntered into your room, not even flinching as he picked up a boot and squashed it in one motion. He didn’t even look.

“Done. You owe me a nap.”

You’re still shaking. He sighs, grabs your hand, and pulls you onto the couch with him. “Next time, just call Jack. He likes bugs.” He smirks when you bury your face in his shoulder.

Azul Ashengrotto

“W-What do you want me to do?! It’s got legs, Yuu!”

You screamed so loud Azul almost dropped the Mostro Lounge daybooks. The cause? A wolf spider on your kitchen counter.

He tried to play it cool. “Oh? A spider? Surely you’re overreact—OH GREAT SEVEN THAT’S HUGE.”

Neither of you wants to get close. You throw a shoe. It misses. He throws a contract. It flutters uselessly to the floor.

Eventually, Jade wanders in and plucks the spider up like it’s a pet, smiling. Azul covers his eyes. You cling to him like he’s a teddy bear.

Azul does start offering a pest control contract later though. For “future arachnid-related trauma,” he says. You consider it.

Jamil Viper

“Yuu—wait, did you say spider?”

You sprint into Scarabia like your life depends on it, grabbing Jamil by the arm and gasping, “There’s a spider in my sink. I can’t sleep there. I’ll scream. I did scream. It’s staring at me.”

Jamil freezes. “…Spider?” You nod, wide-eyed. He visibly pales.

“Nope. No. Uh-uh,” he mutters, subtly backing away like the spider might teleport into the room. “I—I hate those things. They’ve got too many legs. They move wrong.”

But you’re practically vibrating with fear, and his instincts to take care of you override his own phobia.

“Okay. Fine. We’re doing this. Together. Like survivors.”

You both head back to Ramshackle armed with a broom, a dustpan, and three bug sprays. Jamil’s got the broom out like a sword and sends you to “watch his back.”

You both shriek when it moves. Eventually, he traps it under a bowl and throws the whole thing out the window—with magic. Not touching it. Not today.

You both collapse on the couch, traumatized but victorious.

“No one tells Kalim,” he pants. You nod. Solidarity.

Later, he sneaks lemongrass into your windows... and his own. Just in case.

Vil Schoenheit

“It had how many eyes?”

You screamed and nearly fainted on the spot, pointing at a dark blob skittering across your hallway. Vil arrived in dramatic fashion, cape swishing, heels clicking.

“Did someone die?!” he asked. “No,” you whispered, clutching his arm. “Worse. It has eight legs.”

Vil sighed like you just told him you got gum in your hair during a photoshoot. He snapped his fingers. Rook came in with precision aim and caught the spider under a glass.

“It’s handled, mon lapin. But do please let me gift you with proper home pest-repellents. And maybe a self-defense class.”

You end up with eucalyptus oil sachets and a personal spider evacuation bell.

Idia Shroud

“K-Kill it yourself!! I’m not a tank character IRL!!”

You Facetime him in tears. “I’m gonna die. There’s a spider the size of a tarantula guarding my closet.”

Idia, in his dark room surrounded by screens, gapes at you.

“A spider boss?! No way I’m coming in there! I’m not built for this!”

But you threaten to delete your friendship file in his system. So he panics, puts on like three layers of clothes, gloves, and a helmet, and tiptoes into Ramshackle like it’s a horror game.

Eventually, he vacuum traps the thing after a lot of squealing.

You reward him with snacks. He proudly tells Ortho he’s officially “levelled up IRL bravery stat +1.”

Malleus Draconia

“Ah. A child of the earth. Curious.”

You scream so loud he teleports in. “What dark force has dared to—oh. It’s...a spider.”

You cling to him. "Please. Kill it. Burn it. I don’t care."

He tilts his head, watching the tiny creature crawl up the fireplace. “Where I come from, spiders are symbols of good luck. But if it frightens you…”

He gently scoops it into his palm with magic, opens the window, and lets it go. “You are safe now, Child of Man.”

You’re not sure if you’re touched or horrified. He notices your shaken breath and holds you close, murmuring ancient fae lullabies until your heart slows again.

[whotfelsewantedtobelynnyx]

Chat, I regret to inform you that I have added a new hyperfixation…so…

Agatha All Along Incorrect Quotes!

Alice: Hold the fuck up.

Also Alice, crawling into Lilia’s lap: It’s me. I’m the fuck up. Hold me.

Rio: I have an idea!

Jen: No murder.

Rio, sighing petulantly: I no longer have an idea.

Lilia: I have a bad feeling about this…

Agatha: What do you mean?

Alice: Don’t you ever get that little voice in the back of your head that tells you if something is going to get you in trouble?

Agatha: No.

Jen: That actually explains so much.

Lilia: As far back as I can remember, I’ve always had this little voice in my head telling me to “live it up today, because there’s not gonna be a lot of tomorrows”.

Agatha: You do realize there’s medication designed to get rid of those kinds of voices, right?

Teen: A bird flew in through my window and I’m trying to befriend it.

*later*

Agatha: Why don’t you quit bothering me and go talk to your bird friend?

Teen: Matthew and I are not speaking at the moment.

*the coven, huddling together behind a makeshift shelter to shield themselves from repeated gunshots*

Alice, hastily shoving the others behind her so she can return fire: Agatha, do you have any idea who would want to shoot you?!

Agatha, squashed between Jen and Rio: Many people want to shoot me. I take great pride in that!

Jen, glaring at the group as she hands over bail money:

Alice, tapping her shoulder: What about Teen?

Jen, glaring more: I’ve got to bail him out too? Where’s Agatha?

Teen: No one called her. We used Lilia’s phone call to call Alice and Rio’s to call you. Then Rio used my phone call to vote for American Idol.

Rio: :)

Jen: Rio isn’t answering her phone.

Agatha: Here, I’ll try.

Jen: Alice and I have tried six times each, what makes you think that-

Rio, picking up on the first ring: Hey, sweetheart.

Agatha: The ends always justify the means!

Jen: Do you know who said that?

Agatha: Was it Oprah or someone nice and great like that?

Jen: It was Machiavelli. A decidedly non-Oprah like person.

Jen: I bet you didn’t even finish the thing I asked you to get done!

Agatha: For your information, I most certainly did! Got it done last night!

Teen, whispering to Agatha: You didn’t get it done, did you?

Agatha, whispering back: I don’t even know what she’s talking about.

Lilia: I am at a loss for words!

Teen, glancing at the camera like his mom like he’s on The Office: Despite being lost for words, Lilia yelled at us for the next 45 minutes.

Agatha, carrying Señor Scratchy out of the room:

Señor Scratchy: *snuggles under her chin*

Agatha, kissing his head: You are being punished. Please stop being adorable. I love you.

Teen: I got a trampoline tent for summer sleepovers!

Jen, whispering to the other adult witches: …think of all the sex.

Alice: There are two types of people.

Rio: If you wanted to eat someone, you could put a fire under it and slowly roast them :)

Lilia: …three. Three types of people.

Jen, cautiously: I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before, but…Teen, you are a little crazy.

Teen: Aren’t we all a little crazy here, Jen?

Jen: No, I mean you’re aging-ballerina, child-chess-prodigy, professional magician kind of crazy.

Teen: It’s my mom’s fault. You know, we come from a Jewish family, but she used to tell me the reason Santa didn’t come was because my room was too dirty.

Rio: I’ve come looking for trouble. And if I can’t find trouble, I WILL create some.

Alice: Do you trust me?

Lilia, smiling proudly at her: Yes.

Alice, who has been completely panicking: Wait, what? Why?!

Agatha, awkwardly glancing around for help: Er…Alice, I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know what to say to people who are crying. So I’m just gonna hope that the tone of my voice makes you think I do, okay, sweetie?

Alice, sniffling: …thanks, Agatha.

Agatha, patting her on the back with a bit too much enthusiasm: No problem, kid.

Lilia: I told Agatha about it weeks ago!

Teen: She WHAT?

Agatha: What??? Lilia says insane shit all the time, how was I supposed to know this one was true?!

Lilia: Bank accounts are a sham created by the shadow government!

Agatha: SEE?!

BONUS:

Wanda, watching from the afterlife: so…when exactly do kids grow out of that whole emo, rebellious stage?

Lorna, shrugging: I don’t know. Alice is still in it.

[moongreenlight]

John ‘Soap’ ‘won’t take no for an answer’ MacTavish

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

You break up because of his work, not because you don’t love him anymore. It feels unfair that he’s always getting dragged away for work and that you’re expected to sit and wait him out. You make the mistake of saying the two of you could stay friends. Truly not thinking much of it. A real right person, wrong time situation. He takes it as more of a challenge.

You sometimes worry he doesn’t think the two of you are broken up. Still invites you out for drinks twice a week when he can. Squashes you both into one side of the booth so he can throw his arm around your shoulders and nuzzle into the crook of your neck. He only has one beer, but keeps ordering you cocktails and encourages you to drink up to soothe your nerves. You think it’s a coincidence the first few times when you’re too drunk to drive and he insists you come stay the night at his place. He’ll drive you home in the morning.

You try to tell him you’ll sleep on the couch just so the lines don’t blur. He just smiles and nods and continues jabbering on about nothing. It doesn’t take him long to get handsy when he’s stopped at a red light. Spreads his hand over your thigh and fusses with the hem of your skirt. You don’t think you’re stopped at the light for very long, but by the time it turns green again he’s already pushed your panties out of the way and stuffed two fingers inside of you. Talks over your moans and soft keening noises and tells you that he’s glad he was with you tonight. Could have been picked up by some sick bastard because you never did know your limit.

“‘S’alright, dollie. Always got a place with me.”

He stops working his fingers a heartbeat before you’re about to come. Pulls them out and licks them clean after he parks out front of his flat. Doesn’t bother helping you out of the car, just lets you stumble after him in a haze.

You’re convinced the sex is somehow better than when you were dating. He ebbs and flows between being sickly sweet and meaner than you’ve ever seen him. Shoves you down on his bed and immediately tucks in on your cunt. Cooing directly into your sex about how he’s missed her. She’s so pretty. It’s cruel of you to keep him from such a pretty pussy.

He strictly fucks you in positions that ensure he can see your face. Clamps down on your chin and forces you to look up at him when he’s splitting you open. Doesn’t let you come on his cock unless you’re saying his name and making eye contact. Pulls out while you’re trying to clench around his length if your eyes roll back. Gives you a mean pinch to your nipple and smacks your clit a few times until you’re teary and begging for him.

Sometimes he flat out refuses to put it back in unless you say you love him. Runs his cock through your soaked folds and leaves you to whine and cry under him for a few minutes until you take the hint and slur some cockdrunk nonsense about how only he can fuck you like this. You miss him. You still love him so much.

This drives him insane. He takes your words to heart. Convinces himself he just needs to try harder to get you back. If you’re saying all this, then he’s still got a chance. He’ll bury himself deep into you and piston his hips with no further regard to your pleasure after that. Bottoms out inside you and still somehow tries to fill you further when he paints your walls with his release. Bites down hard on your shoulder or your neck and leaves a sickly yellow bruise around the indent of his teeth. Snarls in your ear about how he knows you still need him because if you didn’t then you wouldn’t be letting him do this. Marks you like he still feels a sense of ownership.

After the first dozen few times, you sit him down and try to tell him that you can’t do this anymore. It’s making things too hard on the both of you. He smooths your hair and kisses away your tears on his couch. Shushes you sweetly when you sniffle and go on about how you wish things were different. He fucks you more gently that night before you leave.

[sugusatosluut]

Mind games

Not edited yet.

Synopsis: You’ve been fighting alongside Invincible and the guardians of the globe for years, yet youre the only super that the GDA can’t get any information about. Mark Grayson knows more than he lets on, but he doesn’t kiss and tell…

warnings: light smut, no use of y/n, some fluff, implied relationship, Reader is half viltrimite.

In the midst of a tough fight the guardians seemed to be struggling immensely against the unlikely team up between the lizard league and the mauler twins. It was almost unbearable to those watching live on television. The brutal tactics of the lizard league making viewers sick to their stomachs, the gut wrenching fear of possibly losing one of earth’s favorite super heroes.. that was until Invincible and Vex showed up at the ‘all is lost’ moment to save the day. Invincible showed up before you, smiling at your presence as you flew in immediately taking down salamander, then focusing your strength on Komodo Dragon.

“Hey take it easy Vex! I was getting there.” Invincible chuckled.

“Gotta fight me for him invincible.” You smiled at him.

Instead of waiting, you and Invincible teamed up taking down Komodo Dragon, then moving onto the mauler twins as the guardians recovered and took on the rest of the Lizard league. The pile of villains visible to viewers at home who cheered at the screen. The biggest threat of the day was taken down and according to everyone the day was saved.

You were satisfied, watching the guardians and Invincible socialize before deciding to take off. Before you could leave, you felt an arm grasp your own. It was invincible, the guardians and atom eve. They smiled at you.

“Vex, thank you for your help. Don’t think we could have done it without you.” He said smiling at you.

“Yeah you’re like, hella strong and smart and that’s a lot coming from me. I don’t usually think that of people.” Rex complimented you as he crossed his arms.

“Thank you, I just want to help where I can. The partnership between those guys was odd, could have been more dangerous than we thought if we didn’t take them down. You all did great work.” You smiled. Your mask was covering most of your face.

“You know.. Vex you should come hang at the guardian’s hq. Even if you’re not wanting to be part of the guardians you’re always welcome to come hangout and be yourself. Eve and invincible do it all the time. Plus we’d get to know more about you.” Rudy stated.

“Thank you. I’ll take some time to think about it.” You smiled.

Cecil popped in behind all of you, his presence immediately squashing the positivity in the air. He was satisfied with the outcome of the situation given it could have been much worse if not dealt with accordingly.

“They’re right Vex.” Cecil seemed to spit your name out his mouth with annoyance in his heart. Cecil had his ups and downs with the supers, always has a safeguard for when things seem to go against him or a super seems to act out and he needs the upper hand, but it was never that way with you for as long as you’ve been here. You’ve always made it a point to leave before Cecil arrives and this was why, he always wanted to know more. It bugged you to the core and invincible knew more than anyone how you felt, so he always watched before needing to jump in to your defense even though you never needed it.

“If you’re gonna help it’s earth courtesy to introduce yourself and make friends, unless you already knew that.. while you’re at it you might as well make that mandatory visit to the GDA and let us know more about you too so we can assist you better in fights or care for you medically without a fight.” He glared at you.

“Yeah.. like I said, I’ll think about it.” You said before taking off.

“Nice going Cecil, you scary fuck. You scared off one of the strongest supers we got.” Rex groaned, kicking a mauler twin who was out cold.

Invincible flew up after you, following behind you. This was always what happened after a huge fight. You’d play nice and social, then leave. Invincible would follow you to where the GDA couldnt and you’d hangout together. This time you decided to fly into a con. You and mark were already in your suits hanging out at a food truck.

“Hungry girl huh?” He smirked at you, moving your hair out of your face as you took a bite of your hotdog.

“Mhm, I skipped breakfast.” You chuckled.

“Quinn you know you could always come by my place and eat. My mom doesn’t mind making breakfast. She always asks where you are anyways.” He said. Only Mark knew your name. He never slipped up once in front of anyone though. His mom only knew you by your super hero name. She loved how close you and mark were on camera and how much he talked about you at home.

“Yeah, it’s just.. Cecil’s watching you guys so closely already. We could change here and go to your place? Be there by dinner? I’d love to meet your family formally.” You smiled at him.

The two of you sat on the bench, mark’s arm around your shoulder while the other was holding his phone, texting his mother.

You both changed out of your suits, meeting up at the entrance.

“Ill never get over the fact that you love seance dog as much as I do.” He smiled.

“It’s so good, the matching shirts are just the cherry on top. Are you flying us?” You asked.

“I can, you’re gonna let me carry you though.” Mark patted your head as he picked you up.

You held on knowing you could fly if anything happened. You couldn’t let the GDA tie anything to you. Living on the edge was scary. But tonight was all about you and mark. Mark knew everything about you. His favorite thing was that you could relate to him and his own struggles. You just had to explain how you’re here to his mother Debbie. He explained that the viltrimite race was a sensitive topic considering his dad was Omni man. This was it, you landed at the front door with Mark. He knocked on the door to be more considerate to how Debbie felt.

“Mark? Oh my son, who’s this?” She asked with a smile as she took your hands in her own.

“Hey mom this is Quinn, she’s here to have dinner with us. You said you wanted to meet her.” He smiled.

“Quinn how good to see you, come in!” She grinned.

You all sat at the table, Debbie smiling and staring at you.

“So, Quinn, tell us about yourself!” Debbie smiled as she took a bite of her own food.

“I love hanging out with mark, he’s my favorite person to do things with. I love being able to protect the world with him. Plus I feel like it’s right to tell you I’m part viltrimite part Vexan, I just hate Cecil.. I’m not fond of him at all..” You breathed out. You immediately regretted everything you said, yet mark grabbed your hand under the table, squeezing it to signal it was going to be okay.

“Oh thank god you’re honest sweetheart.” Debbie sighed with relief.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that my little Mark has someone to be around who understands him. And don’t worry, Cecil won’t know a thing.” She smiled.

You smiled back in return. After dinner was over, you helped Debbie clean up. You met Oliver, who came back from playing with friends and he enjoyed your company and helped you, Mark and Debbie clean up the house. After cleaning you and Mark went to his bedroom, chatting for hours about school and life.

“So, how was life on Vexilan?” Mark asked.

“Not bad, their lives were lived similar to Earth customs. Everything was normal except school and mating.” You huffed.

“Tell me about it.” He was intrigued. You turned your body to face him in the bed.

“Well schools don’t have grades, they were similar yes but, we have fights to move into the next higher classed area. That was it. If you died you died. Magic is the life or death factor. If you don’t have it you’re destined to die.” You said. Mark’s interest was genuine.

“And what about mating?” He asked

“Mating.. mating was odd. It worked like our schools but you also couldn’t date anyone that wasn’t in your class. Sometimes you’d have to fight rival mates to the death, other times you’d have to prove your love by mind warping. It’s a lot like.. ‘mutual masturbation or assisted masturbation.’” You blushed.

Mark was blushing. It was quiet for a while.

“Did you want me to mind warp you, Mark?” You asked.

“I-uh..I” he was panicked, he wasn’t expecting you to ask.

“Oh- unless you’re seeing eve- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked.”

“N-no I’m not seeing eve, I’m only seeing you! You can mind warp me I just wasn’t expecting you to ask so suddenly. I-I’d actually love to.” He said grabbing your hand.

You looked at him, blushing hard. He locked the door.

“Okay so what do I need to do?” He asked running his hands through your hair.

“Take your clothes off.” You smiled shyly.

Mark kissed you all over your face as he took his clothes off, all except his boxers.

“This works, now I take off mine and you lay down on the bed. I’m gonna sit on top of you and I need you to close your eyes.” You nodded.

Mark closed his eyes, you sat on top of him, feeling his hard on. You placed your fingers on his head, running your hands through his hair as you kissed him. You used your powers to amplify mark’s ability to feel pleasure. It worked as a type of aphrodisiac. In his mind he felt two of you, even though there was only one of you. You were touching him all over, the whines and whimpers leaving his lips.

“I feel so sensitive, what did you do?” He asked smiling at you.

“You’re gonna feel it.” You smiled.

Your mind intertwined with marks, every fantasy you’ve ever had filling his vision. He groaned and moaned. He was able to cum in the warp, but not in real life. You had him begging for more everytime he came in the mind warp. You finally stopped after the fourth time.

“I need you so bad right now.” He whined.

“I know, do you want the real thing mister invincible?” You teased him. Wrong move on your part, mark grabbed you and you stopped the mind warping. He deserved what he worked so hard for. Eventually letting him finish for real.

“You know.. I think I love your planets mating customs.” Mark blushed at you.

“Well… I think I love you mark. It only appropriate via your worlds customs that I admit my feelings for you. I’ve had these feelings for quite some time now. Just didn’t have the courage to act on it.” You smiled at him.

“Go out with me? Just as Mark and Quinn. Doesn’t have to be Invincible and Vex if you’re too shy.” He smiled.

“Yes. We can do both.” You smiled.

You both enjoyed the night, mind warping and giggling like teenagers

[hhoneylemon]

𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙋𝙄𝘿 𝙁𝘼𝘾𝙀

mohawk mark x reader

genre: fluff

this is just word vomit i’m sorry 👎 also, reader is implied superhero at beginning. mohawk is silly and is romantic in his own way. approximately 850-900 words. NOT PROOFREAD!!!

a faint aching in your ribs. a humored smile hints at your lips as you strip from your suit. you had beaten him home, meaning he’d be on breakfast duty in the morning.

you dress yourself in his clothes, a pair of boxers and a muscle tank. a quick wash of your face and brush of your teeth and you lay yourself on the bed. he appears moments after your head rests on the pillow, cursing at the sight of you.

“you’re joking. i should’ve cheated.”

mark sighs dramatically. the sound of fabric shifting follows, then footsteps as he goes to clean himself off. you don’t move a hair, content waiting for him to get back to you.

you don’t wait long before the footsteps are back and there’s a weight dipping the mattress. the weight appears at your side, a leg and arm thrown over you as his face squashes into your shoulder. his piercings make you smile, your hand moving to muss his mohawk. he’s been letting it grow lately, making it stick at odd angles that make you giggle.

it’s not like he grows it out for you. not like he likes hearing your laugh, even if it’s directed at him.

his eyes gaze at your face, studying you. small thoughtful noises escape him.

“you were off tonight. somethin’ happen recently?”

your hand drops from his hair to wrap around his shoulder, your other resting on his thigh. mark squints at you like he’s trying to read your soul. 

“not really. just been sad lately in general.”

he hums in response, tucking his face back into your shoulder. he doesn’t offer anything in comfort, not being a sympathetic person, though he feels an uncomfortable pull in his stomach. he doesn’t like seeing you sad. it doesn’t affect him in any way, it just doesn’t sit right with him. he presses a small kiss between where your neck and shoulder meet, nuzzling closer to your skin.

“i could live in your chest.”

you glance at him, curious. your face conveys your thoughts, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursing.

“and why’s that?”

mark’s hand raises and traces your sternum. he moves to run along your ribs, as though he’s memorizing the space between each and how they feel against his touch.

“like, burrowed in your organs. i could count how your heart beats and give it company.”

he then pats your chest before going back to his previous position. he looks up at you, smiling. it’s not his usual crazy, high on adrenaline smile, but something more relaxed and normal. it almost makes you smile in turn.

“you’re pretty weird, dude. i guess that’s romantic coming from you?”

he then scoffs, rolling his eyes. he wonders why he tries sometimes. well, because he likes how you look at him during the late night when the world is quiet. how you trace his scars and draw stars and hearts into his skin. how you laugh at his dumb jokes, how you never turn him away when he comes to you, how you let him feel  normal behind closed doors.

“it was supposed to be.”

he grumbles, nipping your shoulder in retaliation. the sound of your barely suppressed laughter makes him groan, though he can’t help but love it. a gentle rubbing at his shoulder has his eyes fluttering shut and his grip around your waist tightening a bit.

“you’re cute.”

you tease him, causing him to shift and glare at you. another little huff and he pushes his face into your neck. all the piercings pressing against your skin make you shiver, making him grin against your neck.

“i killed, like, three people yesterday. that’s cute to you?”

“well, not quite.”

“you may be more messed up than me.”

he pokes at your thigh, his grin widening. he licks your neck, his tongue piercing a weird disturbance amongst the muscle. you laugh, pushing him off of you.

“you weirdo! go sleep on your own side of the bed.”

mark glues himself back against you, this time catching your front rather than your side. his arms wrapping all the way around you, he effectively traps you. he kisses all over your face, laughing as you squirm. the kisses were open mouthed and left wet marks across your face. you give him a disgusted look.

“really? what are you, a dog?”

he scoffs, knocking your head with his own.

“hush up. i don’t take disrespect in my house.”

you raise a brow at him, hands resting on the small of his back. you almost laugh.

“this is my house, actually. since when do you work?”

he frowns, sighing at you. he rolls his eyes.

“i live here, do i not?”

“i guess so.”

he sighs, resting his head on his pillow. now that you think about it, he’s on your side. you roll your eyes at his ridiculousness, huffing at him.

“go to sleep. i’ll see your stupid face in the morning.”

he laughs, hands tightening around your shirt. his lips form a grin.

“i have the hottest face on the planet, babe, you know that.”

another eye roll from you. he leans in and kisses you before nestling back into your pillow with a satisfied smile.

“i’ll pick somethin’ up for breakfast. dunkin’?”

a little smile graces your face as you close your eyes.

“sure.”

sorry i just love dunkin donuts 💔

masterlist

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twenty-one

I can't wait for these two to kiss because jesus christ!!! I don't think I've ever written this slow of a burn it's killing me

Warnings: our usual angst, Hotch being dumb but also reader being just a little overdramatic (but who's to say!), i promise these two are going to get over themselves soon

You return to Hotch’s office with snacks and coffee in tow, bringing the entire pot with you for convenience. You see he has grabbed your mugs from the conference room and you smile.

“Our provisions,” you joke, arranging everything on the smaller table by the couch. “Our eyes are going to be bleeding before we’re even halfway.”

Hotch lets out a chuckle as he hands you your mug. “I hope not.”

Your fingers brush again and you try your best to ignore the softness. You notice then that he has done some slight rearranging so the two of you will be sitting on the same side of his desk to look at the files. Probably something to do with the space, and so neither of you will have to deal with reading anything upside down, but still, it…does something to you.

Something you do not want to face right now, so you promptly squash it and move on. 

You clear your throat. “Should we start?”

He nods, a jerking movement like you jolted him from a daze. “Yes, we can go chronologically, I guess. I managed to secure some files from the first few times he was arrested for unrelated crimes.”

“Got it.” You settle down into the chair on the left, and Hotch takes the one to your right.

You realize too late that he’s left-handed, which means he is continually brushing against you as he uses his dominant hand to point to certain words and move other files around.

It’s fine, truly. Honestly. You don’t know what’s coming over you now. Why it never has before — but hasn’t it? Your mind flashes the memory of you crawling into Aaron’s lap to steer during the car chase, the way you felt him underneath you and the thrill it sent up your spine. You can try to blame that on the adrenaline of the situation all you want, but you know it’s a lie. You know it isn’t the only thing to blame.

You shake your head to shake yourself out of it, focusing in on the files. There is nothing unusual about the first arrests, some were even before you were born. Nothing out of the ordinary, so you and Hotch decide to set them aside on the couch.

Next are the arrests after you were born, beginning with some domestic dispute calls. You can feel Hotch’s eyes on you as the two of you go over them, but these were when you were a baby. You, thankfully, don’t remember these nights.

You make the decision to move on from them, confident that there aren’t any clues there. Not for anything you don’t already know.

The most damning, and the things you want to focus on, are the arrests and interrogations that occur after some of the first murders. Although the arrests were for unrelated incidents — domestic dispute, DUI — your father was still questioned as the city was on high alert. The DUI arrest in particular happened in Atlanta. Your father claimed to be on a bachelor party trip with some friends. The police bought the story. They believed the man they were looking for to be a local, not someone on a weekend trip. They let your father go with a warning.

“They didn’t even suspend his license?” you scoff. 

“His BAC was still under the legal limit,” Hotch notes.

“Yet they brought him in on DUI arrest,” you shake your head. “They absolutely amended that number when they decided to let him go. Charming bastard.”

“He does seem to talk himself out of all of these,” Hotch mutters.

“He could talk himself into and out of anything he wanted,” you reply, still glaring down at the reports. “My mom told me once that it was what made her fall in love with him. And what made her realize that one day he was either going to kill her or himself.”

Hotch’s head slowly turns toward you, but you don’t meet his gaze. You can’t. You keep saying things to him that you shouldn’t, things that feel like you’re breaking your chest open and almost daring him to do something about it.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You shrug.

“Let’s take a break for a moment.”

“Hotch,” you huff, finally turning to look at him. You gesture to the desk before you both. “Does it look like we have time for a break?”

“No,” he deadpans. “But five minutes won’t hurt. Because there is something I need to discuss with you, about Rossi.”

You sit back in your chair, cradling your mug in your hands. “Okay, what about him?”

“He told me he’s not skipping his guest lecture this year.”

“Why would he skip it?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing. Rossi mentioned it to you on the drive to the this morning BAU, so this isn’t new information for you. “It’s just for the weekend.”

“I know,” Hotch says, eyeing you warily. “Would you like to stay somewhere else while he’s gone?”

“Honestly?” you chuckle. “I kinda want to stay at his place.”

“Are you alright staying there alone?” Hotch prompts. “I know he has great security and all, but…”

“But it’s a big place,” you admit, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Hotch tries not to stare at your mouth. “And it would feel safer knowing someone else is home just in case,” you sigh. “Maybe I can ask one of the girls, or…” You pause, eyes flicking up to Aaron’s. He sees you hesitate, but only for a moment. “What are you doing this weekend?”

Hotch blinks. Once, twice. “Me?”

“Yeah,” you almost laugh. “Come on, don’t tell me you actually have plans.”

“What if I did?”

“Do you?” 

“That’s not the point.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling at him. You’re smiling. At him. “Just come stay at Rossi’s for the weekend. It’ll be a good bonding exercise for us to…you know, learn to not kill one another.”

“We still could.”

“Yeah, we might,” you shrug, smirking dangerously at him. “Willing to risk it?”

Absolutely. He’ll risk anything for you, and maybe that isn’t a good thing, but he doesn’t care. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you nod. “Besides, I’m 99% sure everyone has weekend plans, and I don’t want them to keep canceling things just to deal with this unsub right now.”

Hotch frowns. No matter how many times everyone reassures you that they want to help you and that taking on this case is not bothersome, you still think it is. You still think you’re a burden.

Hotch didn’t have plans this weekend, nothing besides working overtime to continue investigating any leads, but even if he did have plans, he’d cancel them for you. Every time.

“Then I’ll be there,” he says.

“Good,” you smile. “Oh, I’ll have to ride with you, if I’m still not driving my car. Unless I can go back to driving it.”

Hotch mulls it over. “We’ll see where things are at in a few days.” It’s only Tuesday. A lot could change between now and Friday.

You roll your eyes at him, but for once, it seems entirely lighthearted. “I knew you’d say that.”

+++

You need to be psychologically evaluated. Or something.

The reality of what you asked Hotch — and the fact that he agreed — hits you barely an hour later, and suddenly you’re excusing yourself to go see if Garcia has heard anything back yet about the note left in your door.

You plan to ask her about the note, yes, but also to ask her what the hell is going on with you, but then it hits you that you can’t ask her that because you absolutely, under no circumstances, cannot tell anyone about this. You don’t even want Rossi to know because you know he won’t let either of you live this down, but it’s his house, and you’d be surprised if Rossi didn’t tell Aaron he should offer to stay with you. Except you, like a fool, invited him yourself.

You pause outside Penelope’s office, composing yourself. You have to act normal. You can’t freak out about this right now. And what are you freaking out for, anyway? You and Hotch are both adults, capable of being civil under the same roof for a weekend. It’s fine. It’s not like you’re attracted to him because that would be insane — and frankly, masochistic with how much he pisses you off. All the time.

Except today. Kind of.

God, you need to get a grip.

As you raise your hand to knock, Penelope’s door opens, and you both scream.

“What are you doing?” she shrieks.

“I was coming to ask about the note!”

She takes a deep breath. “You are psychic, my friend. I was just coming to tell everyone the news. Come on.”

She links her arm with yours as you walk back down the hall toward the bullpen. You catch her eyeing you through your peripheral.

“You’re jumpy,” Pen notes. “Everything okay?”

“Yep,” you say, definitely too fast. “Hotch and I have just been going over all the files he asked around for.”

Pen is silent for a moment. “Just you two?”

“Yes…” you turn your head to look at her. “Why?”

“Nothing,” she says, definitely too fast.

Neither of you say anything after that, walking the rest of the way to the conference room in silence. You pause outside Hotch’s office to clue him in, and he stands without hesitating.

The results from the lab are underwhelming.

“Nothing?” Morgan repeats.

“Nada,” Garcia nods. “I sent it to your tablets, so you should have it, but they found nothing. Zilch. Not even a whisper of a fingerprint is on that note.”

“So, he’s very careful,” Prentiss muses.

“And intentional,” you add. “This has to be part of his game. Whatever the game is.”

“Actually,” Reid starts, “I think it might have something to do with his identity — the game, I mean. Think about it: you don’t know who he is, we can’t find any leads, every time we get something like this note, we conveniently don’t have any fingerprints or— or even oils from the skin where he’d brush against it as he wrote on it— he thinks of everything.”

“Richard taunted you about not knowing him,” Hotch says from the doorway, quietly. Almost like he didn’t want to offer up that information.

“Kind of,” you agree, but not without casting a sideways glance at your boss. You already told the team about Richard saying you know who’s doing this, just that you don’t want to admit it to yourself.

Next to you, Pen squeezes your arm gently. “What did he say exactly?”

“It was just what I already told you guys,” you shrug. “He thinks I know who it is, and when I told him my dad is dead, he said he knew that. That he was sorry for both losses, so he somehow found out about my mom’s death, too — I don’t know how.”

“Are you sure there isn’t a family friend or…distant relative that could be doing this, for whatever twisted reason?” Rossi prompts.

You shake your head. “None that I can remember.”

You hear Hotch shifting behind you, straightening up in the doorway. You crane your neck to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t look at you, though. He looks at Rossi.

“Dave, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Rossi, of course, nods and goes to stand, unfazed by Hotch’s request.

You’re not the same. Annoyance begins to simmer just below the surface, like it always has. “You can ask me whatever you’re about to ask him.”

Rossi pauses, glancing between you and Hotch. You can practically feel the entire room holding their breaths, waiting for the inevitable sparring match to begin.

It doesn’t come. Instead, you and Hotch are locked into your usual glares, less angry than before, but it’s like embers with you two. One spark, one coax and the flames will return.

“I need to speak to Dave about this, alone,” Hotch says, his tone leaving no room for arguing.

Against your better judgement, you still try. “No, I’m serious. What is it?”

“Do you remember who kidnapped you?”

You struggle to answer. It’s not a matter of remembering because you never saw the man’s face at all. “No, I—”

“Then I need to speak to Dave about it, alone,” Hotch repeats, gesturing for Rossi to follow him to his office.

You can do nothing except watch them go. The round table room is left in silence after they leave. The sound of Hotch’s office door closing quietly with a click echoes in your ears as if it was slammed. 

“Okay, um,” you pause, trying to redirect. “I guess, what have you guys found in the letters, if anything?”

You try to listen to the team as they — mostly Reid — explain what they’ve deduced so far, which isn’t much. More personality clues rather than any tangible lead.

“And, uh…” Reid offers you a small, sad smile. “For what it’s worth, from what I can tell in the letters, he um— Your dad did really care about you.”

You nod slowly, somehow not expecting that to be a conclusion that Reid came to. But you’re weirdly grateful that he did, nonetheless. “Thank you,” you whisper.

You turn around to look at Hotch’s office, but the door is still shut and the blinds are drawn now, too. You sigh.

“Well, looks like I’ve been banished for the time being,” you turn to look at Pen. “Wanna show me how to hack something? Completely legally, of course.”

She grins, wide and mischievous. “Let’s go.”

+++

Inside Hotch’s office, the two men face each other in a standoff, equally as annoyed with one another.

“Yes, of course it crossed my mind, I’m not that dense,” Rossi all but snaps at Hotch. “But I could never convince myself that it seemed plausible enough.”

“You could’ve mentioned it,” Hotch fumes, one hand propped on his hip while the other rubs tiredly at his forehead.

“We had other leads that we had to follow.”

“Yeah, which are dead ends now.”

It’s not often that the two old friends argue. They bicker, they poke one another’s buttons, but it’s rare for it to go beyond that. So rare that it blows over quickly, like it does now.

“I told you the facts, and you’ve read them,” Rossi says calmly, gesturing to Hotch’s desk. “She never saw his face, he never did anything to her, and we never found him because he never became a problem again to give us anything to find him with. We had to move on. We had to let them move on.”

Rossi glances toward the window and Hotch knows who he means. You and your mom. They had to stop investigating and stop questioning and stop, for lack of a better phrase, beating a dead horse. So that you and your mom could move on, could start a new life.

“Okay,” Hotch exhales. “So, what if it’s the same person?”

“Then he’s twenty years older, like the rest of us.”

“Where does that put him?”

“I have no idea,” Rossi shakes his head. “She would barely tell us anything about him.”

“What?”

“She kept telling us that there was nothing to tell,” Rossi says. “She didn’t see his face, but she heard his voice. He didn’t harm her. Like Lila, she didn’t talk badly about him.”

Hotch remembers Lila right after she was returned. How calm she seemed. As if nothing had happened, really. How she refused to speak to a sketch artist.

“Are you sure she never saw his face?”

Rossi shrugs. “That’s what she told us, repeatedly. We had no reason to think otherwise. Why? What are you thinking?”

“Lila did see his face but refused to speak to a sketch artist,” Hotch pauses. “I don’t know.” 

What if you did see your kidnapper’s face, but were told to say that you didn’t? What if you willingly kept it to yourself because he didn’t harm you and let you go willingly? What if you’ve blocked it out — you were only fourteen — and convinced yourself that you never saw his face because for twenty years you’ve believed that you didn’t?

“No, I know,” Rossi nods slowly, the gears turning in his head. “But we can’t confront her about this, not head on.”

Hotch makes a bitter sound, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “I know. She’s not happy with me again.”

Rossi gives him a look. “Your timing wasn’t exactly impeccable.”

Hotch returns the look. “Just…maybe try to ask her about it?”

“Right,” Rossi says. “I’ll see what I can get her to remember.”

“Thank you,” Hotch sighs. “If she’s uh, not too angry with me then, will you send her back in here so we can finish looking through these?”

Rossi almost laughs. “Oh, you won’t be seeing her again today.”

“What? Why?”

“I think I heard her and Garcia walk by a few minutes ago, and besides, I am not the messenger,” Rossi holds his hands up in surrender. “Go find her yourself.”

Hotch is not going to bother you. He knows better.