#look it's one that did tech support

[tblsomedoodles]

Phone based customer service is fking hell

I don't have time to put together the entire (very late) speedpaint before work so here's another vent doodle instead. (i'll probably post it later tonight.)

Is this a little ooc? maybe. but people yelling at you over the phone hits different than people yelling irl. especially if they won't let you get a word in edgewise. and a newly tech support Donnie (either 07 iteration or Adopted Donnie Don) would find that out very quickly.

[fingertipsmp3]

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[reiderwriter]

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

“There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

[lioneliness-etc]

Ok but all the batkids hate going to Bruce’s events and galas until he tells them to make it a competition to see how much money they can get rich people to donate to various charitable causes.

Dick surrounded by women cooing over how handsome he is: yes but did you know that 1 in 5 children in Gotham will face food insecurity? I’ve been working with the Gotham Food Bank and I really wish more people were supporting their efforts…

Jason cornering the richest asshole he can find and blocking his exit: leaving so soon?? While Gotham public schools have some of the most underfunded libraries in the country? maybe you want to rethink that.

Tim being grilled by tech billionaires for being an acting CEO at like 16: well I for one believe in investing in the future. That’s why I’m heading this new initiative to provide programming classes and paid internships for teens in underserved areas. It would be wonderful to have your financial support… not to mention it would look great for all your companies.

Damian allowing his cheeks to be pinched by strangers: the Gotham animal shelter needs incubators for abandoned kittens. Do you know how much kitten incubators cost to maintain? Do you want the blood of those kittens on your hands?

[nerdpoe]

Phantom does not like Bruce Wayne, he tells Batman with a completely serious face.

Phantom is hanging out in the Watchtower, shooting the shit with Green Arrow.

Well, Phantom is talking shit about rich people.

"Sounds like a personal grudge," Batman comments idly. Lots of people don't like rich people, so he isn't actually offended.

"Oh, I just hate a select few. Oliver Queen? He's fine." Green Arrow visibly preens.

Batman feels a lip twitch, but fights the smile.

"What about Bruce Wayne?" Superman asks, very deliberately not looking at Batman.

Phantom snorts.

"Bruce Wayne? I hope he wrecks one of those fancy cars and needs both his feet amputated."

The room goes completely silent.

"Holy crap, kid; what'd he do?"

"He backed Vlad Masters is what he did. The Wayne Tech he provided was used to get one-up on me; took me literally two months to escape." The kid cracks his neck, and the high neckline moves enough to show off a shiny new red scar.

Bruce feels the world drop from under his feet.

"He what?" The question is ripped from Batman's throat before he even finishes thinking it.

"Oh yeah, he also financially backed the supporting senators behind the anti-ecto acts. Bruce Wayne is a literal useless sack of shit."

"...I'm sorry, the anti-ecto what?" Superman's voice is strained as he asks, and his eyes are already starting to glow.

Bruce, after getting back to the cave, pulls Tim aside and together they rip into every single transaction the board did both over the table and under it.

And there it is.

Multiple board members had been using Bruce Wayne's name as they donated to shady politicians, essentially sold off his developmental tech that was supposed to be disposed of, and had been embezzling funds.

On all official papers, Bruce Wayne was the biggest backer for a law that was in clear violation of Meta Rights.

@simplestoryteller

[eightyonekilograms]

I turned off reblogs on this post because it was about to breach containment in a way that looked unpleasant, but I did want to provide one bit of followup for those of you fortunate enough to not be following Twitter drama. You'll want to follow this bit though, because it's really funny.

The second bit is, as Matt says, that because a lot of leading figures in tech have gotten so annoyed at their treatment in the press recently, they've conjured up this theory about how journalists attach tons of status and self-worth to their blue check marks. And Matt is saying, no, this really isn't true at all: the fact that journalists all get blue checks by default is more of an implementation quirk of Twitter and nobody really cares. I have no reason to doubt him on this. So what's sort of funny is that apparently Elon got caught up in the same hatejerk as the rest of tech, and thought that "bluechecks" really did put tons of value on their verified status and could be extorted out of money for it. Which is probably a mistake, and one that's going to cost him literally billions.

At the time I thought this might have been a little uncharitable, but it turns out it was completely correct and, if anything, did not go far enough.

Today was the day that "legacy" blue check marks got turned off, and so now only the people paying Twitter $8/month get to have one. And this is absolutely hilarious, because now suddenly the blue check mark is a strong signal that you support Elon Musk and his Twitter machinations. So it went from being something which was free and had maybe slightly positive "eh, sure, I'll take it" valence, to something which (for most former bluechecks anyway) has strongly negative associations and costs money to boot. So they are, overwhelmingly, declining to pay. In fact, Twitter can't even give them away: LeBron James said he wouldn't pay for a check, Elon offered to give him one for free, and James refused, because the association is now so toxic. ell, em, ay, oh.

And this is absolutely infuriating the Elon fan crowd, because they never understood the indented paragraph above, and really did think that people valued the status of their blue check mark, instead of it being a "eh, whatever" thing that was barely worth it when it was free and certainly isn't worth $100/year. So you're getting deranged takes like this:

You can find thousands of these I'm-not-owned corncob posts, along with even more posts in the replies of people going "no thanks", cajoling and begging them to buy a blue check.

Sociologically, it is frickin' fascinating that this symbol just overnight had a complete valence inversion (and also that, despite this flip, the word "bluecheck" still refers to somebody just as insufferable as it did before).

[rboooks]

The Adoptive Son. Part 2

Dick tries his best to keep his smile as Danny Crowne fumbles with his laptop, attempting to show Dick all the fantastic features he programmed onto it.

Don't be wrong; he enjoys new software, and the stuff Crowne made was awe-inspiring. He just wished it wasn't being used for one of his most disgusting crimes.

Babs, who was recently super into coding, had been all but foaming at the mouth when she got access to the new writing application Crowne Industries put out.

Yes, she got access a bit earlier than most since she hacked into the system attempting to find evidence of criminal activity, but she had tested it out and wanted it for herself.

"This writing program has an automatic save option after a certain amount of time goes by." Crowne blushes a little, looking bashful when Dick sends him a winning smile. "I-ugh, I forget how often computers crash, taking with them hours of work, so hopefully, this will help tired college students. It even has a way to retrieve lost files, just in case something does get deleted."

"Wow, you made all this by yourself? That's so impressive." Dick purrs, allowing his hand to land on Crowne's knee. The other man jumps slightly, looking down at the hand like he's never seen one before. At least this mission was easy.

Crowne's had plenty of people flirt with him over the years of his adoption. Dick had watched him at galas, sidestepping any courtship attempts like a well-practiced waltz. He charmed so many would-be suitors simply by his prince-like mannerism, silver tongue, dripping good looks, and of course, very large wallet.

He had thought it meant that Crowne was experienced in this sort of thing. Imagine his surprise at the beginning of the mission; Crowne fumbled through his flirtations and seemed so awkward it was almost endearing.

Danny Crowne didn't make much sense to Dick in this way.

He quickly became one of Gotham's most eligible bachelors and one of the first openly bisexual ones. Despite his adoptive parents less than ideal views on the gay community, Crowne never hid that part of himself. Once he had taken over the company, he had even gotten charities set up to support the gay youths of Gothams. He practically funded the Pride Celebrations, even more than Bruce, which showed how he became the new head of Crowne Industries

In four short years, he had snatched the company from the jaws of bankruptcy and dragged it to the top again. Everything they made was so revolutionary, even Bruce had been tempted to ask Crowne to join him for the first two years.

Back then, Dick had thought Crowne was weird.

All the guy did was talk about tech, and when he wasn't, he was staring into space or attempting to get into different equipment so he could take it apart and figure it out.

Crowne had been invited to his birthday party a few months after his adoption. Dick had seen him arrive, but he vanished from the room not long after- at the time, he didn't blame the other. The rest of their classmates were snobbish and a pain to be around- he later found Crowne pulling out one of his light sockets to check the wiring in Bruce's house.

It may have been the cheap light he was using, but Dick swore he had seen the guy's eyes glowing while he muttered to himself in an unknown language.

The Crownes had been mortified, forcing Crowne to apologize profoundly for ripping Bruce's things. Bruce had to play his part of Brucie, so he had laughed it off, asking the boy why he had done it in the first place.

" I meant no offense. I apologize for allowing my curiosity to cross a line. I was only interested in how advanced your home is. I figured the Wayne's would indicate where the world's leading systems would be." Fourteen-year-old Danny Crowne had told Bruce with a sweet smile that was far too wide and eyes that were far too bright.

It creeped fourteen-year-old Dick out so much he actively avoided the adoptive son of the Crowne for the last four years.

Now he wishes he had paid a little more attention. Maybe then he would have caught on to Crowne selling street kids on the black market.

"It's nothing, really." Crowne laughs nervously, flushing read as Dick gently rubs his knee. He smirks inwardly as the other man fumbles. "I couldn't have done it without Tim so-"

"Tim?" That's a new name. Dick quickly pressed the recording device that Bruce had installed into his bracelet. He hated that he was working with his ex-mentor again, but this was too big of an issue to allow his hurt feelings to get in the way. There were so many kids at stake.

"Tim Drake. His parents are out of the country a lot, so I started babysitting him when he was eight. He's thirteen now, but I got temporary guardianship of him when I turned eighteen. He's my pride and joy. " Crowne clarifies with a growing smile. Dick wanted to punch his teeth in for acting so loving, so caring, so fucking kind when it came to children.

He swallows the urge with incredible difficulty. "He sounds great."

He did know Timothy Drake, actually. The boy was his neighbor for years but didn't stand out much. He always looked like a little doll at the galas, vanishing from sight once his parents' backs were turned.

Dick often thought the boy was out of the country with his parents, primarily when they enrolled him in homeschool when he turned eight.

To think the Drakes were working on making a good relationship with Crowne since he first showed up, and no one within the Bats noticed. It was a little troubling.

Were the Drakes involved with the trafficking ring? Were the world trips just a means to smother out poor victims? Were they using their son, or was Tim Drake part of the scheme?

More questions and not enough answers.

"Y-you could meet him if you want," Crowne coughs, playing with a specialized keyboard- it was so flat. Dick had never seen a slimmer design- his face was a lovely red hue. "I have him for this month, so he's back at my apartment with his babysitter."

Perfect an opening.

"Mr. Crowne, are you inviting me back to yours?" Dick asks, allowing his voice to turn husky with sinful promise.

Crowne face turns even redder. "I didn't mean to assume, but...ugh, are you hitting on me?"

Dick almost laughs.

"I am." He says even as he thinks If only you weren't a scum bag. You are not ever going to get this lucky, you disgusting pig.

"Thank the Ancients. I was worried I may have interpreted your intentions. I would be honored if you accompanied me home-but, not for sex! I mean, I wouldn't be opposed to sex at a later date-just dinner? I can cook." Crowne closes his eyes as if pained, and Dick wishes he was the person he was pretending to be.

Oh well.

They all have their own masks.

Dick just happens to be someone who was bestowed with a criminal. He slips it on as quickly as his NightWing one, throwing an arm over Crowne and placing a tracker on his neck. The bastard didn't even notice. Good.

"I would love that Crowne."

"Danny." The man says with a warm relieved smile. "You can call me Danny."

"Then you can call me Dick"

Dick will have this man rotting away in a jail cell soon. He swears it.

(Part 1) (part 3)

[lvlyghost]

The Things I Never Said: Part 3

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Summary: You're required for one last mission.

Word Count: 2.5k

Tw: aaaaaangst, hurt with a lot of comfort. injuries, mentions of blood, kissing and slightly suggestive but nothing too explicit. price has to make a hard choice:(poor grammar, bad english ofc💅🏻 foreshadowing to my price fic 'salvation' if you squint.

A/N: i'm not gonna lie, when i wrote the first part of this fic i was bored and never in a million years did it cross my mind y'all would like it this much. sorry if this isn't as good, this is the final part of it, although i plan to write little drabbles every now and then. this was such a nice ride 🩷✨ thx for the support; remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome 🤍🐸

Masterlist✨ Part 2

Desk rotation wasn't fun, but it seemed to be the only suitable work for you considering your pregnancy, besides, it would allow Simon to keep an eye on you. At least he's sure you'd be safer in the military base than alone in your home.

Your only companion as you sit in the tech room is nothing more than a computer with two screens and Jimmy, the other tech guy who sits in the far corner across from you.

True to his word, Price had saved you and Simon a horrible martial court plus being discharged. Technically you're no longer a part of the 141 task force which is already upsetting to all of your team; instead working strictly under Price's command and assisting the different branches of the military. Meaning you're no longer subdued to Lieutenant Riley, therefore you're not his subordinate, at least not directly.

You respond to Price and only Price.

Nearing the end of your first trimester your swollen belly has started to show, the same you try to dissimulate by wearing bigger shirts than you would usually wear, but enough for Simon to notice when he'd place a big calloused hand on your stomach.

'It's... tiny.' He had stated, to which you laughed softly.

'Of course it is, your hand is massive!'

You shake your head, with a small smile on your lips as you remember that scene.

"Everything good?" You ask your companion.

"Mhm. You know you're the best for creating the security system right? Not a single breach or flaw. Couldn't ask for a better partner."

"Is that a chai?" Completely ignoring what he just said you point the white disposable cup next to him. He looks between you and his drink.

"Yeah? Didn't know you liked it, here... have it. I can get another." He assures you when you hesitate.

You thank him with glowing eyes and excitement. Cravings... you're embarrassed of the amount of food you've asked from Simon in the middle of the night. Sushi, pizza and even peaches just for the sake of the baby.

He's being the gentlest man on earth. Caring and supportive. Your phone buzzes as you're about to start to work. The screen lights up with a message from your Captain. Huffing you stand up, letting Jimmy know you'll be back in a few minutes, or so you thought.

You're not prepared for the hell unfolding inside John's office.

You're able to hear male voices from the other side of the hallway. You don't know why but your heart begins to race, knocking twice once you've reached the brown wooden door.

"Come in!" Price shouts from inside.

You open the door, greeted by John's hardened eyes and Simon's back as he hunches over the Captain's desk. Confused and much to your dismay there's a gigantic folder between the two men, your eyes fall on Ghost's trembling frame.

He is enraged.

Body buzzing in anger as the soft click of the door interrupts the silence that's fallen suddenly inside.

"You wanted to see me Sir?"

Price slowly stands, Simon doing the same, turning his head ever so slightly to watch you from over his shoulder.

"I need to talk to you, sweetheart." Price begins.

A deep breath exits Simon's chest.

"What is it?" You take a step closer to them, until you're standing next to him, crossing his arms over his chest he remains silent.

"We need you. For a mission." He states. "It's important, sergeant. I don't think anyone else would be able to pull this off." Your eyes dart back to your boyfriend. Staring daggers at his superior. "I'd never ask for this if I had to."

"Bloody hell Price, she's not fucking going!" He is seething.

The gut-wrenching feeling sets in your belly, tossing and turning with anxiety. Simon isn't taking this well and you don't want to see him like this, it breaks your heart.

"How important, Sir?" You ask.

Ghost snaps his head towards you. Jaw tightening, and calls your name ever so softly.

"Don't." He barks. "Don't fucking play the hero, kid." He warns you.

"I'm not trying to play the hero, Simon." You talk back. "I'm trying to figure out how to get this done. I might have someone else that could go in my place." Price sighs. "Can I do it from the base? Maybe I don't have to leave the compound."

"Reports say the files are heavily encrypted. It's the Russians, sergeant. We're not dealing with amateurs." He turns to Ghost emphasizing the last word. "You more than anyone should understand, Lieutenant."

"Not when you're bloody sending her to a suicide mission!"

"These are not my orders Simon! General Shepherd wants her! I tried to talk him out of it. I can't do much more, son." You swallow when Simon starts pacing around like a rabid dog, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is there any way I can do it? She can guide me through it the whole time..." he's back, leaning closer to his Captain. "I know I...-"

"Unless you know how to code and decrypt systems to perfection it can't be, Ghost. I'm sorry."

"It would only slow down the mission, get you caught. And in danger..." you reasoned, mumbling and staring down to your feet. There's no one else. Not even Jimmy. The one you had in mind.

Simon's mouth snapped shut.

His eyes are helpless when he connects them with yours. The realization of what's about to happen sinking in his core, he tried. He really did.

One long stride and he's embracing you, so tightly you think you'll suffocate; you hug him back, head resting right over where his heart beats frantically against his ribcage.

"I'm coming with her." He snarls. "Not Kyle, not Johnny. And certainly not someone from fucking KorTac." He turns to glare at Price with a death stare. "It'll be me, no one else."

-

"John's devastated." You tell him. Your back pressing against his hard chest. The water in the bathtub is warm, and smells like lavender and sandalwood. After the catastrophic meeting a few hours ago, Simon was too outraged to remain at the base so he drove both of you back to the safety of his apartment. You rest your head on his left shoulder, enjoying the delicate touch of his hands on your lower belly. He hums, almost absentmindedly. He didn't want to think about Price, or the mission for all that matters. All he can think of is you. He sighs, closing his eyes he presses a kiss on your hair.

"Bloody fucking bald cunt." He spits. You snort at his comment. Shepherd was a complicated man, and hardly one you could negotiate with once he had his mind set on something or someone.

"When do we have to...-"

"Tomorrow." Your lips are pressed into a thin line. "I'll be there no matter what, right next to you, love." He reassures you. You were never one to hesitate during missions but now... releasing a shaky breath you turn your head to look at Simon.

"I'm scared..." Simon's body goes rigid. The hand on your stomach halting. "It's not even for me, you know?" Swallowing your free hand reaches down to find his own, lacing your fingers with him. A muscle becoming prominent in his jaw as he grits his teeth.

"Nothing will happen to you. Bloody count on it, yeah? First shite I deem dangerous I'm pulling us out of there, understand?" You nod.

"Promise me you won't get hurt." There's a moment of silence that becomes unbearable the longer it extends. "Simon..." his eyes are fixated on yours, shining with what you can only describe as worship. The faintest of smiles spreads across his features.

"Don't you worry about me, sweetheart. Not for one second." Breathing deeply you pull him down for a kiss. It's slow and tender; makes you forget about all the difficulties you face. Biting down his lip, Simon takes it as a sign to further deepen the kiss. Tongues finding each other in a fight for dominance. "Don't wanna think about what tomorrow holds. I have you here right now. That's all I need."

-

Your mind goes back to the moments you and Simon shared last night. It was so simple, so real.

That's how things were supposed to be.

Easy.

Not heart wrenching, not stifling down a cry as you watch him get shot. A bullet that was aimed at you .Breaking in had been easy. Way too easy for your liking. But you thought that for once maybe a mission wouldn't be a pain in the ass. The hardest part was getting inside their systems; John was right. It was hellish even for you. It took more time than what you had anticipated. No one would've been able to pull it off.

"Whoever is behind this, they're good." You acknowledged as you type down the codes that will eventually get you in.

"Bloody brilliant you are, kid." Simon watches from the other side of the room, eyes scanning the hallway every now and then looking for any possible hostiles. You send him a coy smile.

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll get no work done."

"How am I supposed to look at you then?" He asks

You don't answer because the screen in front of you suddenly shifts from 'Access denied' to 'Access granted'.

"Got you." You whisper. Simon stands straight. You plug your USB and start downloading all the information as well as setting a virus so their system gets permanently damaged.

"What is it?" He gruffly asks when the files finished downloading on your own device. Clearing your throat you try to ignore the horrible pictures you just took a glimpse of.

"Just... insanity." Is all you can say. A loud metallic sound echoes in the room, you never get to see the person behind you. Ghost's eyes widen and he barks an order your ears don't register, static fills your eardrums. The gunfire starts but lasts mere seconds. Crimson blood splutters from Simon's body.

You stand up, knocking down the chair as you jump out and run where Simon's injured body kneels. You fall down grabbing him by the face. The pain you're feeling deep inside has never been worse.

"I'm fine." He hisses. "Just my fucking shoulder."

As if that would make you feel better.

"Let's get the hell out of here." Your lips quiver. You run back to retrieve the small USB drive.

The body of a man lays down, a pool of blood forms around him. He was hiding behind you the entire time. Had Simon been distracted the outcome could've been atrocious. Yo don't dwell on it.

"Come on, baby." You urge him, crouching down to help Simon as much as you can to get him standing. His weight is just too much for you, you think, when he finally raised to his feet.

"S'okay love. Don't... don't overwork yourself. I'm too heavy, don't wanna get you hurt because of me."

Tears form in the corner of you eyes at such selfless act.

"You're the one who got hurt because of me, Simon." You stammer.

"So what? Would fucking die for you." You shake your head but keep close to him. Pressing down the wound on his shoulder as you head towards the exit. "Evac point is ten minutes away. We should be fine." The gun that rests on your thigh feels heavier than it should.

You're lucky, you guess as you walk away from the god forsaken building.

Lucky that you have him by your side, even when his blood stains your fingers. He's there, you're there and you're making it out alive. Wounded or not, Simon would never let anything happen to you, that's how deep his love for you was.

He wasn't like his dad at all.

He was real, caring, something not much people knew. Not in their lifetime.

The amount of blood he was losing was inhumane. An injured shoulder couldn't cause someone to lose this much blood, you ponder. Your black shirt feels sticky and damp, you take a quick glance and hold back a sob. Another gunshot wound, one he didn't care enough to tell you about and you didn't notice, too scared to even think.

Far in the distance between two big threes a black truck awaits. Johnny's face dropping when he noticed Ghost's decaying form. He rushes in your direction, taking him off of you, carrying his weight. He gives you a concerned look.

"Johnny..." you choke up. "We have to save him, please."

-

It's been the worst 48 hours of your life since you landed. He got two surgeries done in order to remove the fragments from inside his body. You were exhausted, barely ate or slept. It almost felt criminal, selfish, when your eyes started to close and finally gave in.

Then the nightmares came.

Ones where he didn't make it back and instead you had to leave him behind and never got to meet his child.

A warm feeling spreads from your skin. A faint touch. Are you still dreaming? His face erupts in your subconscious mind and you cry again. He's fine.

When you slowly open up your eyes you're met with blue eyes and a raspy voice.

"Don't neglect yourself for me, kid." You're speechless, the searing pain in your heart eases. He knows you so well. Knows you haven't left his side. "Takes more than a bullet to keep me away from you." When you don't move nor speak he continues, clearing his throat. "Come here, sweet thing."

There's a new wave of tears that fall mercilessly down your cheeks. You carefully climb up next to Simon's good side.

"Don't you ever scare me like that!" you weep. Sobbing uncontrollably Simon hushes you. Murmuring words of comfort in your ear. The anesthesia is still making him feel dizzy but that doesn't stop him from kissing every part of your face. Your hair, your forehead, your cheek and finally your lips.

"Let's leave this place for a while. Go on vacation while we still can..." you beg.

Simon's lips twitch. He's smiling down at you.

"What do you have in mind doll?"

You breathe deeply.

"Greece. I always wanted to go to Greece."

There's moments in life when you doubt you'll get a happy ending. Being with Simon at first was pure coincidence, something that had evolved from deep admiration and respect, which then turned into something more. It turned out to sleepless nights at the common room with the task force. Longing stares during briefings. Looking after each other during missions.

The training sessions together. Lending his massive leather jacket because you were always reluctant to bring your own. That one night he couldn't resist it anymore and went to your dorm. How you felt under his touch, oh he was touch starved when it came to you. And when he learned he was going to be a father, that moment would be ingrained into his memory until his very last day.

"Greece it is."

It's a promise.

TAGS:

@nijiru @illyanam1011

[screamingay]

remembered there was a new season of love death and robots out so i went to watch it. and the first episode is an unfunny 10 minute psa about selfish tech millionaires destroying the world that ends with a qr code for an official nft for the show. genuinely what the fuck were they going for with that.

[ordalya]

.

[subwaysurf45]

Team Bucky

Summary: your secret relationship with Bucky slips out. Everyone else in the compound is happy for you both but your brother - or really your grandfather - is not pleased at all, all you can do is try and live normally with Bucky and attempt to fix things with Steve. 

Words: 6k

warnings: SMUT: passionate sex, unprotected, very loving, aftercare. arguing, yelling, swearing, protective Bucky. 

a/n: heyyy, yeah I’ve been away for a while, this semester as been kicking my ass. anyways, I’m on winter break and have finally gotten my spark for writing back, I’ve been writing a lot of essays so writing for fun was not fun for a while. I hope you enjoy and I will try to post as often as I can!

There had always been a secret one-upping game going on between Steve and Bucky, it was something everyone had exempted and went along with. There would be countless times when they’d add more and more weight to their bars in order to prove their dominance to each other, or spar with one another until someone gets hurt.

At galas, Steve would be walking around with a trail of women behind him, showing off his skills with the ladies. That didn’t mean anything to Bucky, he would love to get laid more often or get a girlfriend but the ability to make women think they are into you and then drop them like a dead weight isn't appealing.

There were probably things Bucky did to get on Steve’s nerves that Steve didn’t care for. They didn’t do it all the time, just friendly competition. They had been friends for years and years, someone’s weight being a little higher couldn’t even cause a crack in their friendship.

But what Bucky was doing recently would.

There you were, sitting alone in the office as you filled out a debrief of your last mission. The computers were high tech but that didn’t mean they were super fast, most of the time you sat there waiting for anything to load, and seeing the logo in the top corner was a miracle.

“How’s that arm?” Bucky asked as he walked in, acting like he hadn’t been standing outside the door practicing what he was going to say.

“Hard to type with-aw, Bucky…” you pouted and saw the two steaming mugs in his hand, “stop, that’s so sweet!” you reached forward and picked up your favourite mug, looking at Bucky with wide eyes as he pulled out the chair beside you and sat down. “This is going to take forever, Bucky, you don’t-”

“I’m good,” Bucky sighed as he brought his mug right against his bottom lip to blow, “nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“You’re all soft” you giggled and turned back to your computer, “I do need to focus though, no distractions.”

“You have my word,” Bucky smiled and leaned back in his chair, “I’m just here for moral support.”

You just nodded, he loved the face you made when you tried to fight back being flustered. Your bottom lip was clenched tightly between your teeth to fight back a smile while you tried to cover your face and block Bucky from seeing your slight change in colour. The warmth that spread all throughout your body caused you to curl into yourself, he noticed that whenever he complimented you at all you wouldn't know how to react, telling Bucky you weren’t being complimented enough.

That’s how it started, casual compliments and conversation between you two. Trying to get to know you because there was this imaginary wall up for many reasons, you didn’t like to let people into your life because of how much you had lost and something more pressing…

You were Steve’s granddaughter, factually. But you two acted like siblings because you were a little younger than Steve’s age from when he was frozen. Nonetheless, you were related.

Which also meant off-limits.

Bucky really tried to cut himself off but you were his drug, he couldn’t get enough of you. It didn’t help that you were very honest early on about being into him. When Bucky initiated conversations and would give you little touches here and there you were quick to give them back. The first time you played with his hair gave him shivers running up and down his spine but also caused his brain to go fuzzy.

You were alone in the movie room, you always watched some film every Thursday night to keep a schedule. He had come back from a mission hours ago and still managed to make his way down just to sit beside you, and he did but he realized he was too tired to do anything.

He wanted you to cuddle into him and he’d rub your back or whisper little things to just you, but his eyes couldn’t stay open.

“You’re so tired, Bucky-bear,” you whispered and threw your arm around him and to the other side of his head, gently pushing him to place his head on your shoulder, “you can go to sleep if you want,” you whispered.

His body was on his last reserve, not thinking straight at all. “Can I put my head on your chest, your shoulder is too boney,” he’d kick himself for that one in the morning. When you giggled and moved he seemed to sink into you more, wrapping both arms around you and nuzzling into your chest. Everything was so comfy he barely registered that his face was deep between your boobs, you didn’t move or say anything until… “you’re so pillowy,” he muttered.

“But my shoulder is boney?” you shook your head, “you can just say you like my boobs, most people do.”

“They’re great,” he nodded.

Your hand moved from his back and went up his scalp from his neck, earning a groan when you started to fluff around his hair and scratch somewhat intensely on his scalp. He was out before the beginning credits ended, snoring before the middle of the movie. Part of you felt this overwhelming feeling of something you couldn’t describe, Bucky Barnes, a man riddled with nightmares and trauma, constantly on high alert was asleep on your chest. The big man could dwindle down into a guy who has never once felt the touch of love from a significant other. The fact that he trusted you with the power made you proud, it made you like him just a little more.

“How much longer,” he sighed from his starfish position on the floor, being overly dramatic to try to get you to look away. You giggled and finally looked over your shoulder, scoffing at his dramatics.

“Go to bed, I’ll sneak in later.” You shook your head, “and one page left.”

Bucky sighed and sat up, staying on the ground and watching you work. It took a while but soon you were finished, reading it over before submitting it. Bucky helped you pack all your stuff away, holding your bag for you, he did that a lot, never wanting you to do any heavy lifting. Your eyes were barely open as you left the room with Bucky leading you out, you both headed down the hall and to the elevator.

“You still want to sleep with me?” Bucky asked when the door was completely closed, you were too tired to say anything, keeping your head resting against his arm and nodded slightly. “Alright, I think there is still a sweater you left in the room.”

You groaned and looked up, “your clothes please,” Bucky giggled after you whispered. The door opened and you both walked out, him wrapping an arm around you to keep you steady. “I also want to be little spoon please.”

Out of nowhere, a voice came from behind them, “watch your hands, Barnes,” it was Steve.

Bucky turned around but kept his hand where it was, “guess where I just found her?” Steve looked at your tired state, “little miss just finished her report is only going to bed now, I was walking her to her room to make sure she doesn’t pass out on her floor.”

Steve smiled a proud smile. He caught up to them and also helped you walk, subconsciously you leaned more towards Bucky at this moment, thinking of how you’d be cuddling with him soon. Bucky played along and brought you into your room, Steve was very adamant they both left before you got into your pajamas. Bucky couldn’t say no even though he had seen you naked, he had to play along.

Bucky went into his room and waited with the door unlocked, after five minutes you slipped in and found him in the bathroom. Both of you brushed your teeth beside one another, he had one arm around you while you looked at each other through the mirror.

In your opinion, his bed was much more comfortable, choosing to sleep there more often than your own bed. Both of you cuddled in close, you were practically laying on top of him with your head tucked into his neck.

“I love you, Bucky-Bear,” you mumbled, snuggling closer to him.

“I love you too, baby,” he whispered into your hair, leaving a few kisses after. “You make me so happy, I can’t explain it,” you both giggled as he tickled you.

The secret life with Bucky was great and terrible at the same time. There was a different side to Bucky that he didn’t show the team, he was much softer and more extroverted. When you’d sneak out for dates he’d always be the ordering and making conversation with the waiter because he felt safer at that moment. But at the same time, you still had to go on dates by sneaking out. Steve would kill you if he found out the two of you were seeing each other even though it had been going on for a while you both knew it wasn’t a joke. Your heart would still fall when Bucky had to drop your hand when someone else walked in a room, and both of you would grow envious of the couples openly displaying affection at galas.

The idea of telling Steve grew larger by the day because you knew it was bound to happen, part of you wanted to tell him before getting caught so it didn’t look like Bucky was just a hook-up to you. Yes, Steve would kill you but he would also tear Bucky apart because there were rules, apparently. Any type of family member was off-limits, even if Steve found a distant cousin of Bucky’s they would still be a no-go; but you knew that rule was just for you because you were all Steve had left when it came to family.

********

Steve and Bucky were sparring in the ring as you and a couple of other agents went to various machines during your workout. You couldn’t help but look over at them as they fought extremely hard against one another, there was no reason to give each other a broken nose but they did it anyway.

“Can I work in?” Sammy asked you, he had graduated from the academy the same year as you. You wouldn’t consider yourselves friends but you’d smile at each other in the hall and keep up with families.

“Of course,” you stood up from just sitting on the seat as you took your break, leaning down and picking up your water bottle. Absentmindedly you looked over to see the both of them fighting, Sammy must have noticed.

“I don’t get the game between the two of them,” he grunted, “I get it from a male perspective as in you constantly want to impress your friends but sometimes it gets bad, like what are they even doing right now?” he referenced both of them limping around the ring as they circled one another.

“Boys!” you shouted and they both looked at you, “quit putting on a show for us and just act like normal people for once in your life!” you cupped both hands around your mouth.

Bucky looked shocked, “we’re just playing around, relax!” he sassed you back, it was clear on your face you didn’t enjoy what he said, “oh come on, you always get like this, give us a break!”

“Watch it!” Steve snapped, “you better watch how you talk to my sister.” Steve looked back at you, “and you!” he pointed in your direction, “let the grown men handle their things, please.”

Bucky scoffed, “you better watch how you talk to my girlfriend.”

At that moment the world stopped. Steve whipped his head around to Bucky and just stared at him while Sammy dropped the handhelds for the machine, letting out a loud clunk. Bucky’s eye shifted towards you in what felt like slow motion as an apologetic look grew on his face, your metal water bottle slipped from your fingers and fell on your foot.

“Fuck!” the feeling of a throbbing big toe pulled you from your trance, all you heard was more commotion in front of you but you were looking down.

“You’re fucking my sister?!” Steve yelled and caused all the agents to run out of the gym, including Sammy who quickly patted your shoulder before bolting out. Bucky tried to run over to you to help with the toe injury but was stopped after Steve’s fist collided with Bucky’s throat. “You don’t get to even look at her anymore, I’ll take your fucking eyes out you pervert!”

“Steve!” you hobbled over and ran up to the ring, slipped under and grabbed Bucky’s head that was unmoving on the boxing ring floor, “you knocked him unconscious, Steve,” you gasped and pulled Bucky’s head to your thighs as you sat back on your heels, “you could have damaged his windpipe.”

“He won’t need one after he wakes up and I fully-”

“It’s not like he forced me, Steve,” You looked up at your brother, “we’ve been dating for a long time and it’s not just sex, it’s an actual romantic connection that both of our consent to, it’s actual dating!” you gently tapped Bucky’s cheek to wake him up, “don’t frame him or me to be a slut because all we do are normal dating things,” Steve’s face was red as he saw you carding through Bucky’s hair, he was starting to groan and stir.

“Both of you are dead to me,” Steve spat, “he broke the only rule I set up to protect you.”

“I don’t need to be protected from Bucky, and you know that.” you harshly whipped your head around again, “and I know you’re hurt and exaggerating, just walk away.” That was the last time you looked up at Steve, all your focus was on Bucky starting to wake up in your lap. As he groaned and slowly brought his fingers up to his nose your eyes began to water, this was exactly your worst-case scenario.

Bucky’s eyes cracked open and immediately closed again, “baby,” he mumbled, “don’t cry, please, don’t cry,” he reached up to swipe away your tears but completely missed your face, most likely seeing double. “I slipped up,” now Bucky was starting to cry, “my fault.”

You gently pulled him up in a hug and Bucky accepted it, continuously apologizing for what he had just done. Every time you’d quiet him or try to shift his train of thought but he’d make his way back there every time. After a while you got him on his feet and took him to med bay, many people came up to you and asked if everything was alright, you just nodded and kept walking.

“What happened!” Natasha was in med bay when you arrived, filling out discharge paperwork for herself, “Bucky, that looks really broken,” her fingers ghosted over his nose which caused him to wince backwards, “sorry.”

“Yeah,” you sighed and sat him on the cot, calling over a nurse who began examining, “just…going too hard with the sparring.”

Natasha shook her head, “but no one goes that hard, we all pull our punches except when it’s Steve and- oh my god…” she trailed off and looked at Bucky who was preparing to get his nose snapped back in place, “did Steve find out?”

“My fault,” Bucky cried, holding the sheet as he waited for the nurse to fix his nose.

“It’s not your fault, it was a mistake and yeah this is shitty but it will figure itself out.” you looked over your shoulder and immediately gave Bucky your hand, seeing his white knuckles gripping his sheets.

******

It had been a week and Steve refused to speak to either of you unless it was in a professional setting, even then, he’d be snarky whenever he would talk to you. He meant what he said, you really were dead to him. Part of you thought he’d just be mad at Bucky and get overprotective of you but that never happened, he viewed you like dirt; like how he looks at Bucky.

Bucky could see how it took a toll on you, it broke his heart to see you staring off into space after Steve passed by without looking at you. All Bucky could do was hold you closer, but deep down he blamed himself for letting it slip. Every tear, every longing glance, every hope he’d come around was all his fault.

He found you today curled up in bed, Bucky slipped in behind you and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest. “Everything will simmer sooner or later,” he whispered into your ear.

“I just-...” you sighed and buried your head into your pillow further, “he’s my only family, when he wanted to reconnect with me he was so adamant on making sure I came back to the tower with him, so he could have a sister,” Bucky rolled you over so you were facing him, “and now…I do something for me that makes me happy, you make me so happy, and I’m punished for it.”

Bucky planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, pulling you into another hug and letting you feel his warmth and comfort. “I will personally fix all of this, I will find a way, don’t worry, alright?” Bucky pulled back so he could see you nod, “alright?”

You nodded and Bucky kissed you again, crawling out of bed when you fell asleep. He knew where Steve was, and even though his nose had held quickly doesn’t mean he won’t get another broken nose from what he was about to do. Steve was always in the computer room, just like you. There was always something to be done when it came to paperwork and Steve had the energy for it.

Bucky stayed close to the wall and pressed his back against it, leaning over the corner to see Steve typing away at the computer near the back. Bucky pulled back and fully leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath.

Nat: We’re taking y/n out for a girl’s night, just want to let you know!

Bucky: keep me updated, and don’t let her get too drunk, please

Nat: don’t worry!

After shutting off his phone he slipped it into his pocket and took another deep breath. After mustering enough courage Bucky fully turned the corner and walked up to “Steve,” Bucky stood before him, “we need to talk.”

Steve gave nothing, he almost looked up at Bucky but it was just a flinch.

“Silent treatment?” Bucky scoffed, “that works for me to explain my side of the story without you verbally- or who knows - physically breaking me.” Steve huffed, Bucky looked at the chair but decided to stand. “I’ve been dating your sister for about a year and she’s made me the happiest man in the world,” Bucky fiddled with his fingers, “and I know we made rules and all that but this isn’t about that, we can discuss that later.” Bucky saw Steve was no longer typing but simply staring at his screen. “Steve, your sister misses you so much, she’s been curled up in bed crying about losing you, feeling punished for letting herself love someone, she’s kicking herself for something that was all my fault; I slipped up and y/n should be the last one to pay for it.” Bucky gave in and pulled up a chair, making Steve look at him, “I don’t care if we never talk again but my girlfriend is hurting and that’s what’s been killing me the most, so just talk to her, please?”

Bucky sat there, looking at his vacant face. After a sigh, Bucky rubbed his face and stood up, tucking in the chair. He ran his fingers through his hair, “y/n’s out for drinks with a couple of the girls,” Bucky said, “so she’s not here if you were thinking of talking to her.” Bucky left after that, knowing Steve wasn’t going to say anything.

When you stumbled back inside Bucky was quick to catch you, “what did I say about not letting her get stupid drunk?” Natasha just giggled and Bucky couldn’t help but smirk at all the ladies making their way to the kitchen. “How’s my baby?” Bucky whispered into your ear which caused you to get coy and curl into him, “are you a little cuddly, huh?” his finger made its way under your chin which caused you to giggle. You jumped on him to wrap your legs around his hips.

“I love you, Bucky-Bear,” you hugged him tightly, “we can run away together and never worry about anything ever again, do you want to run away with me?” you kissed Bucky’s neck as he walked into the kitchen to see them all eating chips and cookies.

“Sure we can,” he moved his head so you’d detach your lips from his neck and just cuddle into him.

Bucky stood with the group and held you like you were nothing, laughing and talking while the girls did their debrief at the kitchen island, talking about the songs and the dancing. Bucky kept you in his arms but placed you down so you were sitting on the island, letting your legs and arms wrap around him. You weren’t talking that much, Bucky looked over after five minutes of nothing to see you sleeping with your face on his shoulder.

“She did start to cry,” Natasha said sadly, “she had a lot of pent-up emotion and our uber cancelled on us twice so she was just really frustrated, but we all know she wasn’t crying about the uber.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed and rubbed your back, “I talked to Steve and told him to stop hurting her, you know?” Bucky looked at Nat and she nodded, “like he can be mad at me for as long as he likes, but stop doing this to your own sister, I can’t stand to see her like this, it’s awful.”

“I know,” Nat was the only one invested in the conversation, everyone else would forget this in the morning. “I feel like it’s borderline…I don’t want to say slut shaming but I can’t understand why he would be mad at her, I feel like he’d blame it all on you and only take it out on you- I know you didn’t do this but I thought he was going to pull the ‘you coerced my sister into dating you’ card… I really don’t understand his silent treatment,” Nat sighed and took a swig from her water bottle.

“I guess,” Bucky sighed and picked you up, having to hold you tightly because you were asleep and unable to squeeze your legs around his waist. “I’m going to get her ready for bed,” Bucky tried his best to smile, “I really appreciate you, Nat, she needed this.”

“She did,” Nat ran her fingers over your hair, “as much as she’s going to hate the hangover I think she really drained her emotions out and just let go for a moment,” Nat smiled at Bucky, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Bucky left the kitchen, the moment he turned he turned the corner he saw Steve. He was trying to slip away after eavesdropping but Bucky caught him, all Bucky could do was keep walking; he’s said his piece.

“Is she ok?” Steve finally spoke as Bucky passed him with his chin up.

“From being shunned by her brother or her night out?” Bucky snapped, not even looking at Steve and heading to his room down the hall.

After making it to his room he got you ready for bed, cuddling up next to you and holding you close. He had already gotten the water and painkillers ready for tomorrow morning. All he could do now is hold you, making you as comfortable as possible.

As Bucky lay there with your head on his chest, hearing your drunk snores, he thought about Steve. Bucky reminisced all the days together, growing up and finding one another again. Part of him questioned if all of their history went away the moment he found out, was this really the breaking point for Steve? All he wanted was for you to be happy with your brother but selfishly, he wanted his friend back.

“I can, like, hear your brain,” you mumbled and hugged him tighter, “we’ll figure this out in the morning, just forget it happened and hold me normally, please.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile, he rolled you both on your sides and kept you wrapped up. Getting into the familiar position his eyes started to feel heavy, and soon sleep took over.

********

Bucky stood in the kitchen by himself, sipping his coffee and watching the eggs and bacon cook. It has been two days since you had gotten drunk and Bucky talked to Steve, nothing had come out of Bucky’s attempt to get Steve to talk to you.

He could tell you were becoming depressed from losing your brother, the two of you were inseparable so it hurt a lot to have him cleanly break away from you. But all Bucky could do was continue to support you, and he did that by making you breakfast.

He flipped both eggs and poked at the bacon, trying not to have the grease spit back out at him, you were currently at the gym but he’d already be back in the room before you were done.

All at once, Sam ran into the kitchen, covered in sweat. “Barnes!” he yelled, “your girl is screaming at Steve in the gym-”

“Shit!” Bucky dropped everything and ran, quickly turning around and moving everything off the element while turning the stove top off. Bucky followed Sam all the way to the gym and busted through the door, immediately hearing your raging voice. “Everyone out!” he yelled at the agents standing and watching.

“Bucky, I can do this on my own!” you snapped at him, caught up in the anger towards your brother.

“I’m well aware,” Bucky put both of his hands out, “I’m just giving you two privacy, that’s all, love.” Bucky nodded when he saw you relax your shoulders, “I’m going to be right outside when you’re done, alright?”

Steve turned to Bucky, “you really love her?” he asked.

Bucky slowly tilted his head to the side, “I’ve been dating her for a year, crushing on her for two, and being fully hypnotized by her for three the moment she showed up to this place.” He looked at you, “can I keep going, or do you want this to still be you?”

“See,” you looked at Steve, “he cares about me, on a personal level that no one ever has,” you threw your arms in the air, “you need to accept this or I will have no problem sticking with Bucky.”

“You’d turn your back on your family?” Steve laughed to himself, “you’d seriously stay with him rather than your own brother-”

“You’re not even really my fucking brother, Steve!” the anger was making you jump in your spot, “when you found out I was related to you, you chose to keep me in your life, it was quick because you knew how much family meant to you,” you walked over to Bucky, taking his hand in yours, “well he’s my family now, and when shit got rough Bucky was not the one to run away, Steve…” you looked up at Bucky who couldn’t take his eyes off of Steve, “we can go now,” you whispered to him.

Bucky walked with you to your room, completely forgetting the breakfast he had made to lighten your day. The entire time you were talking about how much lighter you felt, having the ability to scream at him even though no solution was reached. As he listened to you his heart broke, you tried so hard to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal when in reality it was, you just weren’t letting yourself fully feel it yet.

Right as the door to your shared room closed you spun and pushed Bucky up against the wall, “I love you,” you breathed before kissing him harshly, it took Bucky three seconds before pulling away and trying to ask if you were alright, “I want passionate sex right now, I want you to fuck me, baby.”

“Woah,” Bucky whispered, “you’re not…honey, you’re not in the right mindset right now, this is not-”

“Please, Bucky,” you whined and dropped down to your knees, running your hand up and down his thighs, “I really want this.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked, shamefully getting hard. When you nodded he picked you up and threw you on the bed, “you tell me if you want to stop, alright?”

“I never want to stop,” you whispered into his ear before sucking on his ear lobe, moving down to kiss his neck.

“Do you want me to go down on you-”

“I’m already wet, just go,” you moaned, blindly reaching down and beginning to work on his pants.

The moment Bucky entered you, you pulled him close, letting his entire body weight crush you in a soothing sort of way. At first, his face was right before yours, kissing you every so often but really just wanting to look at you.

“Pretty girl,” he groaned and tucked his face in your neck, “fuck, I love you, it’s always been you, it’ll always be you, honey- holy fuck!” his hands were moving around, feeling you and touching you all over. “You’re fucking perfect, made for me, I got you,” he sucked harshly on your neck, “I’ll always protect you, and love you, and just-I’m gonna cum, honey.”

“Me too!” you threw your head back, “I love you, Bucky,” your fingers were splayed across his back, “all I want is to run away with you, just you.” your words of love quickly shifted in moans, all you could do was let yourself get lost in the moment.

Bucky had a strong aura, it was one that made you feel protected but also reminded you that he was your rock. Passionate sex with Bucky was something else, he could get you to your peak faster than anyone just because of how much love you feel as he whispers in your ear.

The moment you both let go was a moment of pure bliss, all you could do was dig your nails further into Bucky’s back as he rode out his own high. He stilled after finishing and just stayed there, keeping his head in your neck. While he whispered praises to you, part of you filled with love, an overwhelming amount.

“I love you, Bucky,” you tried to sound put together but the moment the words left your lips Bucky looked up at you, seeing tears stream down your face, “I’m not crying because I didn’t want it, it’s just…” you could see him freaking out, “it’s not you, it’s left over emotion from that fight.”

Bucky nodded and stayed where he was until you began to shift, he wiped you down and got beside you in bed after a while. He made sure you had enough water in your cup beside you and you were warm enough under those sheets. There were a few more sniffles, you’d wipe your face in the shirt Bucky put on because he was cold.

“I just want things to work out,” you cried, “why can’t he see I’m happy and just be happy for me?” your arms hugged Bucky tightly, feeling him hug you back just as tight.

“We’ll figure it out,” his lips brushed against your ear, “everything will work out, you just need to sleep, alright?”

It didn’t take much to knock you out.

********

Bucky’s mission was taking longer than expected but he wasn’t in any danger, his communications back to the compound were perfect with his updates. You weren’t allowed to know where he was or what he was doing but you were allowed time-frame updates, all because you held the title of ‘family’ for his file.

You stood at the stove with an apron on, it had caught three splashes which you were grateful for. The pasta sauce was bubbling so it was close to being done, you had gotten an update saying he was coming home in the middle of the night. If you or Bucky had a mission that ended late the other person would leave a meal in the fridge for when they got home, something easy to throw in the microwave.

“Hey,” you knew that voice from anywhere.

“Hi, Steve,” you said with your back to him. Nothing had changed since then and it had been over two months, Steve was slowly starting to adapt to you and Bucky showing affection in public but he still didn’t talk to you more than he needed to.

“What are you making?” you heard him pull out a bar standing at the island.

You were past trying to reconcile with him, he was the one acting like a child. “Pasta sauce, for Bucky,” you quickly added.

“Oh yeah, I heard he’s coming home tonight,” you could hear how uneasy Steve was, the way his voice slightly shook as he spoke to you.

You could feel his eyes burning holes in your back but you paid no mind, continuing to stir the pot and dodge the few bubbles. “Yep, late.”

“Yep…” Steve sighed but didn’t move, you could hear him just sit there.

Trying to meet him halfway was exhausting, it seemed there was nothing you could do to make him feel better except break up with Bucky. That wasn’t going to happen, it also helped that Bucky was very mature during this, always communicating with you about how he felt and if you needed anything. It further proved how immature Steve was, seeing that a man the same age was able to deal with their emotions perfectly.

FRIDAY came through on the speakers, “Sargent James’ jet is landing now.”

You spun around with a gasp, “he was supposed to be here at three in the morning,” you completely blew past Steve and ran to the land spot, laughing to yourself as you pictured hugging him.

The moment you opened the doors Bucky was already running to you, “there’s my girl!” he yelled and wrapped his arms around you the moment he could reach you, “no injuries for me, how was the month?” he whispered.

“Same as always,” you sighed, “but I’m so happy you’re home,” you nuzzled into his chest.

“He followed you outside, what’s that about?” you didn’t look over your shoulder, trusting Bucky was right. After pulling out of a hug Bucky called, “what are you doing out here?” towards Steve.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he was talking to Bucky, “I need to go for a walk with you.”

“Whatever you need to say can be said in front of y/n as well, bud,” Bucky wrapped his arm around you, “seeing as the situation involves her.”

“Look,” Steve walked up and rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t fully approve of this but I do like the way you’re treating her, Buck, so…” he was awkward, not knowing how to word this because it seemed like a heat of the moment speech. “Yeah, I’m warming up to it.”

“Alright,” Bucky looked down at you, “I mean, that’s great but it doesn’t change anything about us, like,” Bucky laughed through the tension, “we’ve moved on like adults, I can honestly say we don’t care about what you think.”

“That’s a little intense,” you quickly added, “but I think what Bucky is trying to say is that we don’t need updates like this that you’re warming up to us dating because we are still going to date the same, your comfort is not a factor in our relationship.” you nodded and saw Steve’s face go red, “I hope one day we can be friends again and be buddies like before but right now, it’s team Bucky.”

Steve didn’t say anything else, he just watched you walk inside.

“Team Bucky?” he giggled in your ear, “I like it.”

You looked up at Bucky, “I have pasta sauce cooking, we can have it for dinner together.”

“Sounds good,” he kissed the crown of your head with his arm still wrapped around your waist, “can I make you a jersey that says team Bucky because I honestly love that?”

You laughed and fell into his side, “go for it,” he kissed you, “because it’s true.”

Main Masterlist  

Taglist: tag list:  @imtherain @jackiehollanderr @redneckstrash @tylard-blog1 @readingbooksdrinkingtea @linzc-reader @hotleaf-juice @honeybunchesofbucky @sky0401 @striving4averagegirl @seybox @yaszx @happyt0exist @honeybunchesofbucky @munsonettee @searchf0rtheskyline @aya-fay @emi11ie @wbyss​ 

if you would like to be added to the general tallest send as ask, I won’t respond but don’t worry - I’ve seen it!

[horus-unofficial]

hello hello welcome welcome. welcome 2 the HORUS guide 4 HORUS tech aka horus-unofficial.tumblr3.un gives you extremely comprehensive and very useful insight into its "pattern groups" and "licenses". we are your host harold HORUS here today to talk to you about our beautiful darling cunt of a child, the LICH

nobody knows how the lich came 2 be. some buddies of ours say they invented it 9989 years from now which is weird bcos anyone normal would wait another decade before sending that shit back in time to hit that sweet 9999 and keep people guessing as to whether these files actually are from that far in the future, or if the lucky terminal receiving this code just stopped bothering to count the years after 15015u. either way, the lich is here now, and back then, and most certainly at some point in the future, and it kinda looks like we probably did invent it so that means we are in the clear to act like we're the ones who made it!

the lich sucks! its terrible! with glass bones and paper skin and a reactor that overheats at room temperature, a gust of wind could leave a dent in this PG's plating, which is made from samples of styrofoam and bubble wrap warped straight from the insides of pre-Fall packages labeled "FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE" (a perfect bumper sticker for your lich, should you find yourself piloting one sometime within the next -50 to 250 years). you can tell no former members of harrison armory's R&D department were involved in the designing of the lich because the only thing those fuckers know how to do is create industrial microwaves, and the lich's reactor is the most slipshod, poorly-coded shit in the known universe. the only code regulating the lich's reactor is "reactor = cool" and not only are neither "reactor" nor "cool" defined anywhere in the system code, but HOR_OS doesn't even use = signs.

you may ask us, "if the lich is so shit, why do people pilot it?" and we are so glad you asked! generally speaking, answers to this question fall into one of two variations: - "it's a funny mech" - "why is everyone saying i pilot a lich??? i pilot a nelson!!! what do you mean that's my lich frame in the mech bay and i've had it for years, i literally don't have a single HORUS license, @horus-unofficial please advise"

the lich's victorian orphan-esque constitution aside, its biggest strength as a frame is likely its ability to send itself to the seaside for a much needed mental health break should it encounter the slightest hint of adversity on the battlefield. its no wonder the lich is so frail, the entirety of our nonexistent R&D budget went into making this thing the most annoying roleplayer on the playground. "you hit me with your sword? nuh-uh, i dodge. oh you run me through on your spear, killing me instantly? well it turns out that that body wasn't actually me, i've been dramatically looking down upon this duel from up there on those cliffs the whole time!" <- words most commonly spoken by future lich pilots at 11 years old

this allows it to be unexpectedly versatile in combat- with a refundable get out of jail free card and a maximum speed comparable to most of SSC's catalogue, it can weave through dangerous zones in combat with unexpected efficiency, allowing it to support allies from virtually any range, and instigate the occasional skirmish if its pilot is so inclined. we dont necessarily advise that you choose violence as a lich pilot, only that its a more viable choice of function than you might initially think

the lich plays with the timestream with the same enthusiasm as a preschooler in a sandbox, both in regards to itself and anything (un)fortunate enough to be within its sensor range. for every timeline where the lich is playing support for its allies and being so kind and niceys, there's another timeline where it gleefully tears into its adversaries until it overextends and dies respawns in another timeline, and it's through this universal law that an unusually principled lich pilot might find themselves taking a hit for its allies before immediately redeeming that get out of jail free card we mentioned earlier. of course, "principled HORUS pilot" is an oxymoron, so if your squad has a lich pilot what actually happens is more along the lines of being teamed with the biggest fucking nuisance on your planet, who pretends to toodle about the battlefield all combat because the truth is they've been stuck in a time loop for 7 years, and are well beyond the point of caring.

bottom line: if you encounter a lich in combat, dont even bother targeting it. it's unkillable except for when it isn't, and its banned from every omninet roleplay forum in the known universe for a reason

[xiaq]

I got another raise today. Praise for my contributions to my team, validation for my hard work, and a clear overview of what my continued progression in my company could look like. I celebrated by taking the afternoon off to nap and read in bed with my husband. I painted some swatches in the space that will soon be my library in the basement of our new home. I talked to my publisher about the process of turning my 3 published books into audio books. And now I'm in the living room, writing and watching my dog attempt to entice pedestrians on the sidewalk to pet him over the front yard fence.

Next month it'll be two years since I left academia.

It was the hardest and the best thing I ever did.

Three years ago, I was having an existential crisis about my career. I was working 60+ hours a week for embarrassingly little pay as lecturer. I loved my job, but I knew that continuing to work in academia wasn't a sustainable option for me. The thought of buying a house some day was laughable. I'd sworn off relationships. I looked at my writing and I thought there was no chance I'd ever publish anything. I was nearly thirty and I felt like I'd wasted the last decade of my life and I was fighting hard against the sunk cost fallacy that whispered I should just stay. Continue as I was. Let no one know I was drowning in the life I'd always said I wanted.

See, people like to say "it gets better" when people are feeling lost or hopeless. But what they don't tell you is that in order for things to get better you often have to do big scary shit that sometimes feels like walking backward. Sometimes you have to tear things down to the studs before you can rebuild. Sometimes the path to "better" looks a lot like "worse" at first.

I was lucky that my family and friends supported my "worse" phase while I was trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life, interviewing for tech companies and taking fire fighting exams and querying agents/publishers and basically just saying "fuck it, I'll give it a try" to every available opportunity, including dating the guy who is now the love of my life. But "it gets better" requires hard work and bravery and putting yourself out there and bitter disappointment and rallying and leaning on that support system, and trying again.

So, I'm not sure where I'm going with this other than to say, for anyone else who was where I was 3 years back, anyone who feels stuck or hopeless or like they've wasted years of their life on a career or relationship that doesn't love them back: it gets better, but you have to fucking fight for it. So rally your troops. Get your support system in place. Give sunk cost fallacy the finger. And go figure out what will serve you better.

I'm so happy, now. My life is amazing. But it might have been amazing even faster if I'd dropped out of grad school after my first year when I realized that maybe it wasn't what I wanted after all. I wish I'd been brave then. Be brave now.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

My chronic pain disabilities (hip fuckery; migraines) do not stop me from working. It doesn't mean I should treat my disabilities with less respect than disabilities that DO make it impossible to work.

When my endo pain was at its worse, I did all the things I was supposed to do--according to HR--to protect my job. I filed ADA paperwork. I communicated when I used it. I had the doctor's note. Etc.

Two days before my hysterectomy, I got a call from HR. "Oh, we're not sure we'll have work for you after you recover."

Which, first of all, is fucking illegal to say to someone who has ADA paperwork in place with you.

And, second of all, you're a fucking liar. I was the ONLY tech writer in a company of 500 people. Don't bullshit me.

I should have filed a complaint and sued the fuck out of them, but all I wanted to do was be able to possibly get out of pain and not have to worry about my paycheck after that. So, I called someone else in the company who I knew would lose his shit if I told him I'd basically just been told I had no work to do.

Two days after surgery, I had an email from HR to my personal account. Which, technically, they ALSO should not have used to contact me while on medical leave that was--like my disability paperwork--100% lined up and signed off on.

But the HR person wanted me to know that "Oh, looks like there IS work for you! Lol! Didn't know!"

This is bullshit. She was very aware.

Years later, I'm at a much better company. My supervisor, who is nothing but supportive, recently floated that it might be good to have ADA paperwork in place for my migraines because they flare during stress, which is the time I'm needed at work THE MOST.

No shit: I went into hard shutdown for about two minutes after he said it. It wasn't a threat or a dismissal of my migraines. It was him going, "Oh, hey, so no one can ever try to use them against you to say you're bad with stress, you might do this."

But all I felt was how I was absolutely fucked over by a bad company because they said, "You need to follow these legal steps," and I did, and they still tried to get around them.

So, no, I'm not dealing with getting punished if I have more than 2k in my bank account. I'm not dealing with people touching me, or my assistive devices (I don't currently use any). I can park anywhere in a lot and walk to the store entrance. But I was disabled, and I AM disabled, and I have had people try to punish me for existing in a body that just fucking HURTS because it HURTS.

It's Disability Awareness Month. I am disabled. Less so than I was ten years ago, which is a fucking stroke of luck. But also my right hip has started to go now, and who knows what the next 10 years will bring.

It's Disability Awareness Month. If someone says, "I'm disabled, and I want to talk about my experience," please pay attention and listen and learn and understand there's all sorts of ways disabled people are fighting to be treated with basic human dignity and under the basic rule of law.

[just-wrting]

Secret Admirer

Title: Secret Admirer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You've been trying to figure out who keeps leaving you little notes and gifts. Despite everyone else knowing, you keep denying the obvious answer.

Word Count: 1721

Master List

A/N: This will probably be the only thing I write for Reid. I'm not super into him but when the List Randomizer spat out secret admirer I weirdly thought of him. I plan on trying to write a bunch of different characters from a bunch of different fandoms. Just whoever pops into my head I guess. Two will probably be posted Friday.

You aren’t sure when you noticed it. Maybe it was the fact that your desk was always clean. Maybe it was the little extra things that started to appear. Slowly but surely, you realized you had someone who was leaving you gifts and notes. You had a secret admirer.

Despite your efforts, no one on the team would say anything. For several weeks, you pressed the issue with the other BAU members, yet no one cracked. In fact, you were teased about being unable to figure it out. How could a member of the BAU not figure out their mystery admirer?

“Come on Garcia! I know you know. You have to tell me,” you plead with the tech genius. “You’ve literally been avoiding me. I know you know.”

She lets out a squeak before running to the safety of her lair. Morgan is giving you a smirk and shaking his head. Despite your scowl, he chooses to tease you.

“Come on, (L/N), can’t you figure it out? Who could be this mystery man leaving you gifts and fancy letters?” He laughs as he pokes the latest gift, a small stuffed version of your favorite animal.

“Hey, leave my new son out of this. What did he ever do to you?” you grumble, pulling it closer to you. “I didn’t even realize someone remembered such a little detail.”

“Maybe that means it’s been a long time crush.”

At that moment, Reid sets his bag down and takes a seat at his desk. You think you see Morgan’s grin get wider, but it’s hard to tell given how wide his smile usually is. It’s a picture perfect smile.

“That’s a relatively cute stuffed animal. I’ve actually been reading up on that one recently if you’d like to know more,” he offers. “Only if you’re interested of course.”

Reid gives you his charming boyish smile. It goes well with demeanor and you can’t help but find it cute.

“As long as you’re willing to leave out the creepy facts. I don’t even remember telling anyone my favorite animal,” you say with a smile. “Who would remember such a little detail?”

Morgan chimes back in, “Maybe someone with a perfect memory. Like what the kid has.”

You sigh. “Reid seems to like highly intelligent women with PhDs. I may be smart, but I’m not smart enough.”

Before anyone can protest, Hotch calls you all to the conference room for a case. While you’re sure Reid is nice enough to help whoever has a crush on you, you doubt you’d be his type. Maybe Reid is the perfect person to question about the mystery man.

—-

“Reid, (L/N), you two stay here and look through the papers,” Hotch orders before leaving the precinct.

You frown. What’s the point of having you here? Reid can read faster than you can. It’s almost like you’re just here for moral support in case he gets tired.

“Well now I feel useless,” you groan. “What am I even supposed to do?”

Reid doesn’t look up as he speaks. “Maybe today you’re our mascot. After all, mascots are supposed to be cute.”

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Not all mascots are cute. Recognizable is definitely more important than cute. Besides, am I really that cute?

“I meant to say that compared to Morgan, you’re cute.” Reid buries his head further into the papers.

You ponder for a moment. “Well, you’ve got some charm. Morgan has the charm of he’s good with women so that’s why he gets hit on. Hotch is mature and a leader so that’s why women are into him. You’re cute though. You’ve got this soft sort of shyness that makes you adorable.”

You don’t catch Reid’s reply. His face is completely hidden behind various files. Maybe he’s just embarrassed, given that he’s always been a bit bad with taking compliments. That doesn’t stop you from thinking that it’s adorable.

“Speaking of your charms. I like the fact that you’ve got a good memory. You wouldn’t happen to know who’s got a crush on me, would you?”

He doesn’t look up. “I can pass along a message if you’d like.”

“Well then, I suppose you should tell this guy to ask me out. I can say for certain that if he’s this considerate, that he’s already got my interest.”

“I’ll do that,” he mumbles before handing you a file. “Take a look at this. I think I’ve found what we’ve been missing.”

—-

You peer into the lecture hall. It took some convincing, but you have successfully dragged J.J. to one of Lewis’ classes. You gesture vaguely into the room.

“See! That’s what normal Reid is. Dorky jokes, random facts, and the rambling on for ages is what makes him Reid. That’s not what he’s like around me anymore,” you hiss.

She makes a face and shakes her head. “So you have a different Reid? I don’t think he’s been replaced (L/N). Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.”

You scoff. “No I’m not. Reid just seems so nervous around me. Did I do something? He barely looks at me anymore.”

With a shrug, she leads you away. “Have you tried asking him?”

You toss your empty coffee cup in a trash can. Part of you wants to throw up your hands and be done. Why is everyone treating this like it’s normal? No one is giving you any answers.

“Of course I have J.J. It would be weirder if I hadn’t. He clearly knows something about this secret admirer of mine, but won’t tell.”

J.J. pats your arm comfortingly. “Maybe it’s because he’s your secret admirer. Perhaps you need to ask him out.”

“Yeah sure. I’ll ask him out once I have the evidence that he’s the person leaving me these gifts.”

J.J. raises her eyebrows as she drinks from her coffee. Her face says she has other thoughts, but she won’t press the matter further. Your gut tells you to trust her, but you’d rather not make a fool of yourself. Sure, she knows Reid better than you do, but Reid can be difficult to read.

—-

After reading the latest note, you search your desk for your stapler. You’ve been stapling the date and time to each note before tucking it in your desk. However, it’s missing.

You let out a groan. This isn’t the first time it’s been in the wrong spot, and you’re sick of it. You opt to beg Garcia to look at the camera footage to see who’s been using it.

“Hey Garcia? Can you please pull up the footage of my desk this morning? Someone’s been using my stapler, and today they stole it,” you grumble with a scowl. “Whoever took it is going to get some very strong words.”

As she speeds through the footage, you watch the people who got there before you. At first, you see Reid pause at your desk and fiddle with something. You note that he’s the only person in the office at the time, but after he pulls away, you see your stapler still on the desk.

The next person to stop at your desk is Morgan. He pulls your stapler off your desk and staples his paperwork together as he heads to Hotch’s office. He never sets it back on your desk.

“Garcia? Can you please get my stapler from that idiot?”

She laughs. “Has he been using your stapler this whole time? He said there wasn’t any more in the supply room.”

You shake your head. “You like him so much, you can retrieve my stolen goods from him.”

Garcia nods. “I’m on it. You can count on me.”

You leave her to her planning. You don’t comment on the fact that Reid had been at your desk. If you ask her about it, she’ll just  leave you alone to go get your stapler. This is enough evidence for you though. It’s time to confront Reid.

Thankfully, he’s made his way to the conference room to look for something. You sneak in behind him and stand between him and the door.

“So, what did you need from my desk this morning?”

You watch him jump and spin around. He looks shocked, but quickly covers it up.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, (L/N).”

You frown. “I found out my stapler was missing. Garcia showed me the footage and before it went missing, you were at my desk. What did you do?”

Reid opens and closes his mouth a few times. He doesn’t look at you. His hands keep fiddling with whatever he’s holding.

“Forget about it, I’m sure there was just some trash leftover that you cleaned up.”

He swallows hard. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”

You give him a smile. “Thanks. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something else. The others seem to think I’m just talking myself out of it, but I think I can't put it off any longer.”

You make your way towards him, your smile still plastered on your face. You can tell he’s even more nervous now.

“Reid, are you my secret admirer?”

This time, Reid looks you in the eyes. You hear his breath hitch in his throat.

“What if I am?”

You’re a bit taken aback. Despite the determination you had walking into this, you aren’t sure what to say.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your voice is a whisper now. It feels like some sort of dream. It’s almost like if you talk too loud, this whole thing will shatter and you’ll be left in pieces.

“I didn’t think you’d like me back. Your type just didn’t seem to include me.”

Reid hesitantly pushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“You’re more my type than you realize.”

“Then do you want to get dinner tonight?”

Now you’re the one who's acting nervous. Your palms are sweaty. It’s more difficult to breathe. You can’t help but bite your lip.

“I’d like that. If you’re willing to get dinner with me.”

Reid leans down, and gives you a quick kiss. It barely lasts a second, but you can feel your skin heat up. When he pulls away, he stays close.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

[nahoney22]

Alanah, my sweet, darling friend, congratulations to you on your many, many followers!! 💜💜 You deserve all of them and I'm more than delighted to be one of them!

My request is for Hunter (surprised? 😜) with the following 2 prompts, pretty please!

🫧15: “Smiling is the second best thing you can do with your lips.” (Fluff list)

🫧4: “The truth is I don’t hate you. I…I tolerate you.” / “I thought you were going to say love.” / and if I did?” (Enemies to lovers list)

Little angst wouldn't hurt, leading to something fluffy and nice...I trust you 🥰

I cannot wait!! 😆💜 Love you so much, bestie!!

Fall With Me 🌊

🫧 Pairing: Hunter X Female Reader

word count: 1.4k

prompts:

“The truth is I don’t hate you. I… I tolerate you.” / “I thought you were going to say love.” / “And if I did?”

“Smiling is the second best thing you can do with your lips.”

Summary: When paired up with Hunter for a mission, it takes a near death experience for you to say how you really felt about the Sarge… but you weren’t prepared for how you really felt either.

Warnings: Safe for Work, Little Angst, Fluff, Reader Is Scared of Heights, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Female Reader. Not Proofread.

Authors note: I love you too bestie! And no, not a surprise at all 😉 Hope this is okay! Enjoy! Love you so much, thanks for always supporting me. 🩶

“And that leaves yourself and Hunter to pair up.”

After Tech outlined the upcoming mission, the realisation of being paired with Sarge left you feeling a tad uneasy. It wasn't due to any discomfort around him or found him horrible; in fact, quite the opposite. However, the thought of potentially failing in his presence was unsettling.

There had been occasions where you'd caught him casting a displeased glance, not directly at you, but in response to mishaps involving you. So, there was a heightened sense of pressure to perform well. But, you took it with a pinch of salt and hoped to prove yourself to him today.

As Hunter nonchalantly announced, 'Alright, let's head out,' you silently appreciated his professionalism in not opting to change partners. With a quick exchange of well-wishes, the team gathered their gear and set off, Hunter leading the way while you followed closely behind.

Navigating the outskirts of a dilapidated settlement teeming with mercenaries and rogues, Hunter paused to comm the others, prompting you to remain vigilant and on lookout. When happy that everyone was in position, he refocused his attention on you as he inquired, “Ready to get up there?”

Your eyes widened beneath your helmet as you nervously asked, “Up where?”

Stepping aside, Hunter revealed a rusty and precarious ladder partially concealed by vines. A surge of apprehension washed over you; it seemed that Wrecker weren't the only one with a fear of heights.

“Oh.” you involuntarily squeaked, hastily composing yourself. However, Hunter picked up on your hesitation.

“Don’t tell me you're afraid of heights too,” he remarked with a sigh, adding to your mounting anxiety about the partnership. Despite your concerns, you hoped he wouldn't view you as a liability. Before you could formulate a response, Hunter secured his backpack and tethered it to both of you, assuring, “There we go. If you fall, I'll catch you.”

Though his expression was concealed by his helmet, the gesture provided some reassurance and even added a little flutter in your stomach. You may be scared of failing him but that didn’t make him all the less attractive. As you glanced at the connecting cords and then at the daunting ladder, a knot formed in your stomach. “Do I go first?” you tentatively asked.

“Yes. Now, let's get going.” he instructed, giving you a gentle nudge forward.

As you began the ascent, your heart raced with each rung of the ladder you grasped, your gaze fixed firmly ahead, avoiding the sight of the perilous drop below.

"Keep going, don't look down," you whispered to yourself, your fingers gripping the ladder tightly, praying that each rusted bar would hold.

Halfway up, the realisation of the height hit you with full force. Two hundred meters above ground, you reaffirmed your determination but then, as your hand clasped onto the next bar, it gave way, knocking you off your balance.

With lightning speed, Hunter surged upward, positioning himself behind you and using his body to steady yours, preventing you from falling back. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Speech eluded you, your chest heaving as the gravity of the situation sank in. Tears threatened behind your visor as you grappled with the near miss. "Just... give me a moment," you managed to utter, completely overwhelmed.

The sudden realisation of Hunter's close proximity jolted you back to the present. "Let's... let's keep going," you rasped, nodding slightly. Hunter obliged, stepping down but keeping a reassuring hand firmly planted on the small of your back, providing much-needed support until you regain your composure.

When you both finally reached the summit, you had to restrain yourself from collapsing to your knees and kissing the ground beneath you. Your limbs throbbed with exhaustion, and your mind reeled from the harrowing ordeal of nearly meeting your demise.

By then, a feeling of embarrassment washed over you. You watched silently as Hunter detached the cord connecting you both and proceeded to relay updates to the team. However, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, you found yourself leaning against a nearby wall, sinking to your knees as you removed your helmet, frustration evident in the way your fingers raked through your hair.

As Hunter's voice filtered through the comm, he briefly looked at you and concern crossed his face. “Hold tight until we are able to move forward.” He relays to the others before he abruptly cuts off the transmission, takes off his helmet and approaches you.

"Hey," he said softly, drawing your attention, "are you alright?"

Though you wanted to respond with an affirmative, your throat constricted with unspoken emotions, preventing anything but a shaky denial. Biting your lip to stifle any whimpers, you just shocked your head but found solace in his company.

"Why are you upset?" he inquired, his confusion mirroring yours as you struggled to articulate your feelings.

Sniffling, you released a heavy sigh, avoiding his gaze as you confessed, "I just feel like I always mess up around you, and that I annoy you… and I just nearly died!”

Your words tumbled forth in a torrent of insecurity, your ramblings a desperate attempt to verbalise how you felt. However, Hunter remained patient, allowing you to unload your burdens until you uttered the words that hung heavily in the air.

"What did you just say?" he interjected, genuine confusion etched in his features. "You think I hate you?"

Meeting his gaze, you hesitated, uncertain of how he would react. "I just thought..."

"You thought wrong," he interrupted gently, a small chuckle escaping him. "I don't hate you. I..."

His words trailed off, leaving an unspoken sentiment lingering between you. He seemed in deep thought as he pondered whether or not it was appropriate to express how he really felt.

Perhaps not, and so he held back, his silence speaking volumes as he searched for the right words. But you stared at him, wondering what he was really thinking.

Catching your expectant gaze, he offered a wry smile. "I tolerate you," he quipped, the humour in his tone breaking the tension and eliciting a relieved laugh from you, tears wiped away.

"For a second, I thought you were going to say 'love,'" you blurted out without thinking, only for Hunter to match your unfiltered honesty.

"And if I did?" Hunter's response caught you off guard, his eyes widening slightly, but he didn't retract his words.

Tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear, you tilted your head at him. "And do you?"

He visibly gulped. "I don't think it's a surprise that I'm not great with talking about how I feel," he admitted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

Stunned, it took a moment for his words to sink in. "I don't know what to say," you whispered, completely bashful as your cheeks burned.

"You don't have to if you don't want to… I just thought you should know that my strict ways come from a place of me caring about you. A lot. I'm just not good at expressing things," he explained, his quiet vulnerability bringing a smile to your lips, a sight he secretly always adored. "I'm happy to see you smiling again. It suits you."

"Oh yeah?" you teased, mischief gleaming in your eyes as the newfound revelation sank in. "Your smile isn't too bad yourself, Sarge."

He chuckled, placing a hand over yours. The two of you gazed at each other for a moment, the mission completely on hold as you reveled in this new adventure. However, there was no hiding the signs of him looking at your lips and then back to you. "You know," he started, taking a nervous breath, "smiling is the second-best thing you can do with your lips."

Reading the signs and anticipation hanging in the air, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. Time seemed to stand still as the galaxy around you faded away.

He sighs against you, the kiss deepening with a loving desire. Your hands found their way to his face, fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled you closer. Hunter responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you, holding you in tight as the kiss ignited a fire within both of you.

Lost in the moment, you explored each other's lips with a soft hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface. The kiss was electric, sending waves of happiness through your body, making your heart race and your skin tingle in excitement.

Finally breaking apart, you gazed into each other's eyes. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," Hunter confessed, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you. "Me too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, Hunter pulled you close once again, his lips finding yours in another searing kiss, revealing all the unspoken words. The mission could wait for a minute or two.

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