#second of all TWO ABDUCTIONS IN ONE DAY HELL

[reiderwriter]

Little Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid × virgin!fem reader

Genre: SMUT, some fluff, a little tiny smidge of angst. MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: As the youngest and most innocent member of the BAU, they all take care of their little angel. When they find out just how innocent you are, though, one member takes his possession to the next level. You're his little angel, and he's determined to have you.

Warnings: loss of virginity, loss of innocence, degradation, pet names, oral sex, thigh riding, fingering, cum marking, love bites, Spencer is territorial and possessive, Dom! Spencer Reid, PinV sex, mentions breeding, but he pulls out.

A/N: We've reached Day 8 of kinktober! It's our second "long" fic, meaning there's a bit more plot to this, and the smut scene is longer too (WC is almost 7k!) I hope you love this one just as much as I did... The kinktober masterlist can be found here, and my regular masterlist is here too! If you want something specific, my requests are open ❤️

Your first three months with the BAU were a blur, and for good reason. Endless cases, back-to-back, interrupted only by the slight hint of a weekend or the ever possible death row interview. You were tired, stressed, and afraid to walk home alone at night, and absolutely satisfied. As far as you were concerned, it was all worth it to get these monsters off the streets, to help save their victims and to find out what made them tick. There was nothing else you'd rather be doing. 

The team had helped you settle in well, too. You'd joined the team after Alex Blake had left - she'd recommended you actually from the college seminars you'd taken with her. You were obviously lacking a bit of experience, so they took on two team members, and you and Kate Callahan had the great opportunity of both being the newbie. But you had a slight disadvantage of age, coming in as the youngest member of the team. You thought that might be why you'd settled in so well, in all honesty. 

Hotch and Rossi were both protective in a fatherly way. Hotch pushed you and Rossi encouraged you and that was everything you needed from them. A strong pat on the back at the end of a case and a "you did good, kid," and whatever hell they'd pushed you through, it was worth it. Morgan's tough love was brotherly, but he did a great job at getting you to relax on and off the case, reminding you to not take the work home. JJ and Kate were great mentors. It wasn't easy being women in the FBI, let alone the unit that specifically looked into some of the most misogynistic killings, rapes and abductions in the world. They both gave you tips about how to handle condescending officers, and JJ had held your hair back after you'd puked your guts up on a particularly harrowing day in the field. With Penelope, friendship was easy, and you loved talking to her about whatever hyperfixation you were on that week, loving that there was someone on your team that had filled their life with genuine joy in the face of so much horror. 

And Spencer. Honestly, you were beginning to think that you'd used Spencer as a human stuffed toy a bit too much. 

You don't know how it happened at first, just that after one of your first few cases, you'd been so elated to find a victim alive, safe but traumatised, that you'd thrown yourself into his arms the minute you got back to the precinct. 

"We did it, I thought she was going to be dead, Spencer but she isn't." Your head was pressed into his chest, you were almost surprised he even heard them, muffled as they were. If you weren't so elated, you'd have noticed the way he'd stiffened at your touch, panicking slightly before awkwardly wrapping his arms around you, too. But you pulled away before you could notice that he wasn't really used to any physical comfort, bouncing off to write up your case report. 

Spencer noticed, though. Noticed how the heat of your body made him feel comforted, the way his heart rate increased to 125 BPM from it's base rate and didn't fall back to normal for another half hour. He noticed that you smelt like jasmine and patchouli, and more importantly, he noticed that he didn't really care if you touched him, and that was new. 

It became a kind of ritual for you, finding him after a case and folding into his arms to celebrate. They were friendly hugs, after all, a sign that you'd been through hell together, and you'd made it through like avenging angels. They only lingered longer when the cases went badly. You turned to crying in his arms after you'd discovered the body of a dead street girl, Veronica, in pieces in the house of an unsub who'd committed suicide by cop moments earlier. 

"I told her she'd be safe if she talked to us, Reid. I told her we'd protect her, that I'd protect her." You were so hurt by that failure that he'd had to drive you home that night, holding your hand the entire way so you didn't feel so alone, left to fester in your guilt. 

The rest of the team had begun teasing you about the hugs, but you'd brushed them off. You hugged everyone else too, and you knew for a fact that Penelope hugged every member of the team, so there was nothing special going on between you and Spencer. No one had deigned to inform you of Spencer's germophobia and aversion to touch. 

"Gonna tell me what that's all about?" Morgan asked Spencer as you bounced away from a hug one day, leaving to remove your FBI vest. 

"What what's all about?" He replied coldly, turning away to remove his own vest, replacing it with his blazer. 

"What, you don't have a statistic for how many germs are passed between people during a hug, Kid, come on, you were practically smelling her hair." The older man's eyebrows raised in a question again, but Spencer continued to blow him off. 

"I hug people all the time, it's not a big deal." He shrugged. 

"It took you four years to return one of Penelope's hugs, and you still only do that on special occasions. That's not all the time." 

"Derek, just drop it. There's nothing going on, she just… She just does it sometimes." 

It was when you'd hugged him in the middle of the office, without a case to use as an excuse, that you noticed an underlying tension in the office. You were all celebrating, of course, Callahan had just announced her pregnancy, and you were all so happy for her. You'd heard the happy news and instantly turned and thrown yourself into Spencer's arms. Even you weren't sure why, not even questioning it until you saw the awkward glances on the other profilers' faces. You brushed it off by rushing to give each of them hugs, and running out in a mad flush, needing air, or water or something to get you out of what was looking more and more like an interrogation room. 

A few cases later, the entire team headed to O'Keefe's to celebrate. 

"To another case successfully solved," Morgan toasted, and you all joined him, lifting your glasses in triumph. 

"To the wonders of non-alcoholic beer," chimed in Kate, leaving you all laughing together. The booth was small, and as usual, you'd found yourself sat right in the arms of Spencer Reid. You hadn't intended it, honestly, having slightly avoided him recently, but you'd followed Penelope into her side of the circular table, and Reid had followed you. You were sat squished between them, your arms resting awkwardly on your lap between drinks. 

"Okay, a night of drinking is slightly boring without some games to spice things up, what do you say, hot chocolate?" Penelope said, addressing Morgan who was on her other side. 

"I'm all ears, baby girl. What were you thinking?" 

"How about twenty questions? We already know a lot about each other, let's see what we don't know?" Kate suggested, thriving off of the knowledge that as the sole sober member present, she'd hold all the cards tomorrow. 

"What, how is asking questions a game?" Reid questioned jokingly from beside you. "That's just an interrogation or a therapy session, there's no winner or loser."  

Already slightly buzzing from your drink, you turned to him and out your fingers in his lips, shushing him. 

"No time for logic in matters of the bottle, Spencer. Let's play." He pulled your fingers off him, but nodded, holding them in his grip still as you turned back to the table. 

"I'll start! JJ, are you and Will thinking of having more baby LaMontagne's?" Penelope jumped at the chance to probe her teammate, and you laughed at her enthusiasm. 

"There have been discussions, but I'll not confirm or deny yet." JJ said, taking a sip of her drink as she slyly avoided a direct answer. 

"I always forget why you were so good with the press, Miss No Answers. Okay, your turn to ask a question." 

"Okay, Morgan. Are you thinking of popping the question to Savannah anytime soon?" 

"Did she send you?" He laughed and took a drink. "If I do, she'll be the first to know." 

The game went back and forth like this for a few rounds before Penelope turned the spotlight back to you. 

"Okay, Y/N. You were a college student recently, I know you've got some wild stories. Where's the craziest place you've ever done it?" You knew Penelope didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. She was just an open person. 

But you shifted in your seat nonetheless, trying to figure out if you could answer or even if you would. Your tongue was a bit looser than you expected though, because before you could even finish thinking you just blurted it out. 

"Nowhere." 

The others blinked at you slightly before Penelope dived in with another question. 

"Is that Nowhere, Oaklahoma, or you're just not having sex in crazy places?" 

"No. I'm not… I'm not having sex. Period. Never have." You felt yourself shrink as the other members of the team awkwardly apologised for probing you so much. Really it wasn't that big of a deal, and it wasn't as if you were saving it for religious or moral reasons. But you'd not been the most popular teenager, and you'd started studying serial killers and sociopaths so early that you really hadn't wanted to get so intimate with someone else like that. 

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer's grip on his own drink had tightened ever so slightly, his heart race had picked up again, and suddenly the hand that was holding yours suddenly let you go, quietly dropping your fingers like they were glowing cinders, and he was dripping in gasoline, waiting to ignite. 

Lust. He felt sick with himself for the images that were suddenly flashing through his mind now that he knew you'd never been held in that way, trying not to fantasise about you underneath him, holding him, begging him, feeling all of him. He took another swig of his drink and politely excused himself to get another as he let himself catch some air, as the sudden realization that he wanted you - and had wanted you for quite some time now - finally hit him.

The next couple of weeks were normal, and you were thankful to have that discussion behind you. No one treated you differently, acted like you were more of a child than before, asked you how your dating life was or set you up on blind dates, which was really refreshing actually. You'd let some friends know previously, and that's all they'd done, surprised that you could live ignorant to wonders of sex without shrivelling up and dying. 

The only thing that was different was Spencer. And that wasn't really difference so much as growing more comfortable with each other. He'd rest his hand on the small of your back now in support sometimes, or have a hand slung over the back of your chair when sitting together. He was constantly at your side, especially if you were around male suspects or officers who'd taken a bit of a ballsy approach. 

You liked it, probably a bit too much. You gravitated towards him in a room filled with people, and found yourself hugging him more often, when you left a room, when you entered one, when he looked like he needed it. Which, recently, was all the time. A month went by with this increased comfort level, and soon you found yourself feeling wrong if his hands weren't on you. 

He stood close to you all the time, and you noticed the stares you were getting from everyone else. A few officers who'd approach you would apologise to him when they noticed him at your back, hand on your hip as he pulled you away. 

After one case, you could even swear that you felt more than him than you were expecting. He'd moved away slightly in between one of your hugs, but you'd pulled his arms back around you and stepped closer, pressing your back against his chest, letting your head rest on his arms. Something hard and long wedged up against your ass, and in a split second he was pulling away before you could ask him about it. He excused himself, and you felt your body burn up. It was Spencer, it was just Spencer and that wasn't because of you, it was some other reason. 

Spencer didn't know what he was doing. He grew more possessive over you by the day, and he'd honestly nearly bitten the head off an officer who asked him for your number. 

"Sorry, she doesn't have a phone." 

"But I saw her with one earlier. Look I get it she's FBI, and you guys are-" 

"Okay, so she's not interested."

"Hey, why don't you let her decide that wise guy?" 

"Oh sure, get angry I'm sure she'd love that. She's not interested, she has me." He couldn't help himself from getting in the officers face at that, and Morgan had to pull him back from the edge. 

"Wow, wow, hey, calm down." The officer stormed out, and he felt triumphant for only a second before Morgan rounded on him. 

"Whatever this thing you've got going on, Spencer, you need to get it out of your system as soon as possible." His voice was low and stern, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where you were sitting, staring confusedly through the glass at Spencer, whose eyes refused to move from your own. 

" I just wanted him to back off, she doesn't like him like that."

"No, you wanted him to back off because you've marked her like some animal marking its territory. She's not your prey, Spencer, she's our team member, now you're gonna have to get your act together and leave her alone, because we've got work to do." 

Sighing and throwing his hands through his hair again, he finally looked away from you and gathered his breath. He wanted to stop this too, this horrible perverted feeling of needing his hands on you, wanting to possess you day and night. To protect you. He just wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do that. 

The next time you all went to O'Keefe's he certainly tried. You expected him to follow you into the booth again - he didn't, sitting opposite you next to JJ. You expected him to talk to you or look at you for more than a second at a time - he didn't, avoiding most conversations entirely and keeping his eyes fixed on the bar. You certainly expected him to still be sat at the table when you returned from the bathroom, ready to slip into the seat beside him, force him to talk to you. Instead he was gone, and you scanned the rest of the bar trying to locate him. 

Something green and vile jumped you when you finally locked onto him, stood at the bar, surrounded by other women. Surrounded was maybe an exaggeration, as there were really only two of them, but they were practically draping themselves over him, and for some reason that set something alight inside of you. 

You watched them for a moment, how one of them trailed a hand up his arm as he shuddered away from their touch, the other pressing herself against the bar so her chest pushed up dramatically. The green bile in your throat carried your feet forwards, and before you knew it, you were clearing it from your throat to grab their attentions. 

"Spencer, there you are!" You brightened your tone specifically, as you locked eyes with his panicked ones. The two girls looked you up and down as you moved closer, brushing past them to climb up right into his lap on the barstool, pulling his arm around you as you pressed your ass into his crotch. 

"Are you going to introduce me to your new friends?" The smile didn't reach your eyes as you let your back rest against his chest comfortably, watching the women to see their reactions. The one touching him pulled her arm back instantly, and the other readjusted her dress before they both left silently, carrying their glasses back to wherever they came from. 

You watched them leave a little triumphantly before the green faded, and you realised what you had done. 

"Y/N…?" His voice was hesitant in your ear, and you shivered slightly before pushing off of him. 

"I'm so sorry, Spence, it just- it… looked like you were hard." You panicked again, pushing closer to him. "No, like you were in a hard situation, not that you were," your hand accidentally dropped to his crotch as you spoke your final words: "Hard."

He twitched beneath you as you finally looked down to where your hand was, as his mouth opened to say something. 

"Y/N…" was all you heard before you turned around, and fast walked to the entrance, picking your bag up quickly on the way, and then sprinted the second the cold air hit your face. 

You cursed yourself inwardly as you ran the three blocks more to your apartment, thankful that you were at least in walking (or apparently running) distance. What the hell had you been thinking? Practically sexually harassing one of your coworkers like that, grabbing his dick, albeit accidentally. 

You slammed your door shut behind you, leaning against it and sliding to the floor as you finally accepted that whatever this was with Reid, it wasn't friendship for you anymore. And you weren't sure if it had ever been. 

With your head between your legs, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you started replaying each moment with him, each touch from the very first. How even the memory of a brush past you could excite a fire in your heart, a heat between your legs growing by the second. 

You wanted to crawl pathetically into bed and not think about him until the next morning at work,  but fate, or Doctor Spencer Reid, had other plans. 

The knock at your door was sudden and incessant, the banging starting loud, and staying consistent until you tentatively pulled it open. 

He was stood there, chest heaving, looking down at you, sweat coating his forehead. 

"Can I… Come in?" He asked, and you nodded, too stunned at his sudden appearance to tell if this was real or just your fantasy becoming a little too realistic. 

He thanked you for letting him inside, and you showed him inside, guiding him to he couch, where you took a seat opposite him. 

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, you left in a rush and…" He trailed off, eyes flicking down to your lips. His Adam's apple bobbed with his swallow, and you watched it yourself, trying to avoid meeting his eyes, as if you were a schoolgirl about to get in trouble with a disappointed teacher. 

"I'm okay." 

"Okay, that's great, that's… Great." His breaths caught up to him, and he took another deep breath and a swallow before continuing. "How about we continue that game from last time. Twenty questions?" 

You'd do anything to stop him walking out of that door, but you felt too shy to touch him again, even in the friendly ways you were used to, so you eagerly accepted. 

"Yes, that… That sounds fun, thank you." 

"Okay. Question one. Do you know why I'm here?" He asks as he shifts closer to you, still not touching, but at a proximity where it would be natural to accidentally brush against one another. 

"N-No. But I might have an idea." He nodded at your response before moving on to his next question. 

"Question two. Are you a virgin?" He didn't trip or stumble over the words, pushing them out slowly and delicately so as not to offend. 

"Yes." The lump in your throat was thick, almost as if he'd put something there that you couldn't help but choke on. 

"Question three. Do you want to remain a virgin?" 

You shook your head no, following it with your voice seconds later as he stood up from his seat, putting some distance between you. 

"Question four. Do you feel intoxicated or drunk right now?" He held himself still as you sat on the very edge of your chair, desperate to feel his hands on you now. 

"No, I only had one sip at the bar before…" He held up a hand to silence you, and you did. 

Question five. Answer me honestly. Do you like it when I touch you?" 

"Yes." Your breath was a whisper, but it was breathy, sounding almost pornographic in your neediness. 

"Question six. Do you like it when other people touch you?" 

"Do you?" His head snapped back to yours, and you froze under his gaze. "Not as much." You answered and relaxed again, pouting slightly at his lack of answer. 

"Question seven. Do you like me touching other people?" He took a step closer to you again with this question, but you continued pouting as you shook your head. 

"No. I don't." His lips quirked upwards before he could stop them, but he gathered himself together again. 

"Question eight. Do you want me to leave?" You met his eyes at that question, taking one good, hard, long look at him. You noted the tensed jaw, the clenched fists, his stiff body language, trailing your eyes over him before looking him directly in the eyes. 

"No." You let the word hang on your tongue, pulling it out a bit longer than was necessary as you watched him take in a shaky breath. 

"Question nine. Do you want me to come over there and kiss you?" 

"God, yes." He was on you in seconds, restraints gone, throwing himself back at you as his lips collided with your own. Virgin you may be, but you'd kissed men before, and it had been nothing like this. 

His hands trailed up to your hair, tipping your head back slightly so he could gain better access. He bit your lip and thrust his tongue into your mouth when you gasped, so eager to consume every part of you whole. 

You'd never felt like this before. 

He pulled away, and you tried desperately to chase his lips, even as your lungs begged you to stop. 

"Last question," he whispered in the space between you, holding the sides of your face at a distance so neither of you could be tempted to dive in for a second kiss, or a third, or fourth. "Do you want me to fuck you?" You whimpered at his words, nodding furiously as you tried to lunge at him again, but he held you firm. 

"I need you to say your answer, baby. I need to hear your consent, okay?" You nod again and open your mouth, eyes never leaving his lips as you moan out a definitive "yes."

Instead of letting your lips fall against his again, he lunges for you, grabbing your legs and hauling you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style all the way back to your bedroom. 

"Gonna do it right," he mutters to himself as he throws you down on the bed, pulling back to take off his jacket and unbutton the cuffs on his shirt, rolling the sleeves up meticulously. 

"I'm going to take care of you, Y/N, okay?" You nod at him and flush, suddenly feeling the strength of his need for you as he holds himself back. He puts his hands on you again, gently coaxing your legs apart, pushing your skirt up over your hips. Reflexively, you move your hands over yourself, covering your sensitive places with your hands. 

"Don't cover yourself." His voice is strong, deep, as he orders you, and you let your arms drop back to your side. He traces his hands up and down your legs, almost as if he were memorising every inch of your skin, how you felt under his hands. 

His hands make their way up to your panties, and you watch with baited breath as he moves you, pulling your hips up so he can let them fall down. The lace material tickles you as he pushes them past your thighs, over your knees and finally off your legs entirely, balling them up and putting them in his pocket. 

"I'm going to touch you now, okay?" He asks it like a question, but he doesn't wait for your answer, unable to hold himself back before diving straight between your legs, so desperate to taste you that he's deaf to everything else. 

His tongue connects with your sensitive area first, tracing up and down at a steady pace as his legs half-heartedly push your legs open. It's almost as if he's enjoying the pressure of your legs wrapped around him, suffocating between your thighs as he feels your pleasure build, and build. 

Eventually he pushes your hips further apart, letting himself push his face into even more of you, his tongue entering your hole as he begins fucking it in and out of you, fingers coming back up to your clit to keep up the pressure there. 

"Spencer, please, please, fuck." 

"I love it when you beg for me like a needy little slut," he whispers, holding your legs apart as he looked up at you, face slick with your arousal. Your mouth drops wide at his words, and he immediately begins to retract them. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N, if that was too far, I just got caught up -" 

"I liked it." You said, quieting him as you spread your legs a bit further apart, begging for him to continue. He smiled and dived right back in, bringing his other hand up under your dress, all the way to your chest as you kept your legs open yourself. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth, lapping up all the juices you were releasing as you moaned underneath him, bucking into his face at the memory of his degradation. 

You were a needy little slut, and you needed him to make you cum. He was more than happy to oblige. 

He kept you there for what felt like forever, drinking you in for as long as he could. You orgasmed twice before he finished, completely overstimulated by the way he was desperately fucking you with his mouth. 

He was obsessed with you, with your scent, your taste, with being the first ever person to ever touch you like this, to fuck you, to make you feel so good. Without him even realising, you're pushed to the brink for a second time, shuddering under the heat of his mouth as he drinks you in. 

He finally pulls his head up again, coming up for air as you're twitching under him. 

"Perfect, baby, so perfect for me." His lips fall down to your own, and suddenly you're tasting yourself on his tongue. It's hypnotising, and despite the pleasure you've just received, you need more, desperate to feel him on you again. 

When he pulls his mouth away, he replaces himself with his fingers, pushing them into your mouth. 

"Suck," he says and you listen, as he watches the way you lick yourself off of him. 

He unzips your dress with his free hand, carefully pulling your arms out of the sleeves and pushing your dress off your body. You trace your tongue around every ridge of his fingers, leaving no inch undiscovered. He moved you to pull the dress of, and you graciously followed, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. 

"Nice little slut, tasting herself on my fingers?" He whispered when you were finally bare, pulling his fingers from your mouth, letting the trail of spit hang between you as you moaned. 

He removed himself from over you, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

"Come here. Come and sit on my lap." 

You cautiously followed his directions. You'd thought that he'd fuck you then, after spending so long getting you ready, but apart from his tie, which he was in the middle of discarding as you crawled over to him, he hadn't derobed any further. 

"That's it baby, come and sit yourself down right here." He pat his thigh and you crawled over, lowering yourself down onto his clothed leg. 

"What now, Spencer?" You stuttered the words out, heart beating as you awaited his instructions. 

"Now, I want you to rock your hips back and forth. Just like this." He grabbed your hips and started moving you against his leg, pushing you down to grind into him. 

"Spencer, wait, I don't know-" 

"I do. I know you can do it, so please try. For me." You pulled you in for a kiss, and then removed his hands from you, leaving you to rock against his thigh. 

You were unsure of the movements at first, moving slowly as you dragged your aching cunt up and down the top of his pants, watching as you saw the wet patch you were making. You moaned with each movement, growing faster and more confident as you continued. 

"That's it baby, use me to get yourself off, okay? Let me see you." He whispered in your ears, pushing your sweat-slicked hair ou of your face, holding it up for you. 

"Spencer please," you don't even know what you're asking for as you beg him, feeling that familiar bubble in your stomach grow. 

"No, you can do it. You look so beautiful like this, Y/N, so desperate for my cock, huh?" You start trying to unbutton his shirt, desperate to see more of him, to feel more of his bare skin on your own. But he stops your hands and holds them against his chest. 

"You need to ask nicely first, before trying to undress me like a needy little whore." The words should sound violent, should humiliate you, but his voice is so soft you simply move faster, moaning and desperate to cum one more time. 

"Fuck, Spencer, I'm gonna… I'm gonna…" 

"No, you're not." Before you finish, he pulls you off his leg, hauling your body back onto the bed, and laying you back down on your back. You moan in disapproval, so frustrated with the lack of release that you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

"Don't cry, baby. I'll give you what you want soon." He practically rips his clothes off, pulling his vest over his head, stumbling over each button and removing his belt and pants before climbing over to you. His cock finally free you take your first glance at it. 

You'd never entirely been sure how it was that the male appendage fit inside something as small as your pussy, and you were doubly unsure about how Spencer's was ever going to fit inside you. You stared at it wide eyed, as you took in the length, the girth, and the heat of it as he stroked it in one hands, pushing on top of you. 

He let go of it as soon as he was between your legs, letting it fall onto your stomach as he crawled between your legs. He trailed a finger over your lower abdomen just around where his cock was twitching against you as his other hand came up to stroke your hair. 

"You look worried, Y/N, what's wrong?" 

"Will it, um, will it fit?" You asked, knowing how cliché you sounded. 

"We've spent the last thirty-seven minutes loosening you up with foreplay. It should fit, but I can't promise it won't hurt."

"Right, if my hymen is still intact you have to…" 

"That's right. And then it's going to reach all the way in you to here," with each word, he stepped his fingers up from your clit to where the tip of his dick sat on your stomach, letting you come to terms with exactly how full you were about to be. 

"I'm going to fill you, and you're going to be mine, and I'm going to be yours. My sweet angel." He stroked your face, catching his thumb on your lips on the way down, tempted to thrust it into your mouth again, to see just how much of a whore you could be, given the chance. 

Instead, he lined himself up with your dripping core, and, making sure one last time that this is what you wanted, slowly pushed in. 

It was uncomfortable at first, having something so wholly alien inside of you, you weren't sure how to react. You wrapped your arms around him, digging your nails in, deep, as he pushed in further. 

"Y/N, I need to move more now, and it's going to hurt a little, you just have to trust me, okay?" He kissed the top of your head, but you were so lost in the sensations to answer. With one swift jerk of his hips, he pushed through your hymen, and fully sheathed himself inside of you. He pressed small kisses everywhere on your face, while whispering to you how beautiful you were. 

"You're doing so good for me angel, I'm going to take care of you. Going to make you feel so much better than this. You're so beautiful." His lips were distractingly sweet, as were his words, and soon you found yourself relaxing into him, the sharp pain of earlier fading to an electric buzz inside of you. 

You jerked your hips up to meet his, and with that, he knew you were ready. From his words, you'd assumed that he'd move slowly in you. But with one final lingering kiss to your lips, he lifted his chest up, pinned your legs tightly down, and started thrusting hard and fast. 

"Sorry, just couldn't help myself baby. Needed to see you looking ruined underneath me." Moans spilled out of your mouth with his every movement, and the orgasm you'd built up earlier hit you like a ton of bricks, blackness hazing over your eyes as they rolled back in your head. 

"Fuck, fuck, Spencer, don't stop!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, unable to control your pitch or volume as he slammed into you desperately. He was so turned on by the sight of you beneath him, so proud of having fucked away your virginity, to have given you your very first penetrative orgasm that he wouldn't have heard anything that came out of your mouth. 

His eyes were fixated at the place between you, where you joined, where he was entering you, defiling you, claiming you, using you, breeding you. 

He knew he wouldn't cum inside of you, not the first time, but it was tempting. Instead, he chose to move his lips back to your skin. He marked you with love bites and hickeys across your neck, chest and shoulders as you moaned with every roll of his hips, shuddering on his cock. He was close. And seeing you like this, displaying all the signs that you were his and his only, he finally lost it. 

Pulling his dick out of you, he stroked it through his release, spraying his seed over the parts of your skin he hadn't bruised with love. Your stomach, your breasts, hell, one spurt even landed dangerously close to your lips, he was everywhere. You. Were. His. 

He fell beside you, panting for a few moments as you finally cracked your eyes back open, realising what the two of you had just done. You wiped the cum from your face with a stray finger, staring at it for a second before licking it off your finger. 

"As hot as that was, I think we should get you cleaned up properly, angel." He spends forever cleaning you up, carrying you to the bathroom, washing your entire body with hot water and a fresh cloth, running you a hot bath to relax your muscles. You snuggle into his chest at some point in the bath, relaxing so much into him, that you drift off to sleep. 

You feel him carry you to bed, semi-conscious, tucking you in and climbing in next to you. He holds you through the night, the way he holds you after your bad cases. He holds you until he doesn't. 

You're blindsided by the cold bed the next morning. You knew he would be there, you'd felt him inside you and next to you, and you'd needed his warmth, but he was gone. You looked for him in every other part of your home, looked for a note or an explanation, but there wasn't one. 

Through tears, you got ready for work, ready to face him and make him answer why he was suddenly gone. You wanted him to apologise, especially since he'd marked you so badly the night before you looked like a car crash victim from the neck down. 

Dark lavender blossomed along your collar bones as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trailing a finger along every place that he touched the night before. 

"How could you be so stupid?" You cursed yourself. If you'd have listened to what he was saying last night, really listened, you'd have known he wasn't going to be here in the morning. He wanted to ruin you, to possess you, to take away your virginity, and he'd done just that. 

You almost wanted to keep the bruises on display going into work, to make him confront the pain he caused you by leaving. In the end, it was the inevitable stares from everyone else that convinced you otherwise. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

You pushed through the doors to the bullpen and didn't bother putting your bag down before you started scanning the room for him. 

"Where's Spencer?" You practically shouted the words at Morgan, unable to hold back your anger. 

"Y/N, what's wrong?" 

"Where is he?" You demand, and there must be something in your eyes that speaks to your devastation because Morgan shuts up and just points to the top of the stairs, where Spencer is exiting Hotch's office without a care in the world. 

You don't realise that something is tears until you're beating a hand against his chest in frustration as they spill down your face. 

"Where were you?" You demand, sobbing into his chest, as he pulls your hands away. The entire office is watching your commotion, but you don't care, you're not letting him move you out of the way. 

"Y/N, I need you to sign this." His voice is calm, and you hate him for that. That he can stay so neutral when he's just broken your heart. 

"No, not until you tell me why you left." 

"Sign the papers, Y/N, trust me." He pulls your chin up so you can look him in the eye, and you catch a glimpse of the man who has been holding you, comforting you for the last four months. You snatch the pen from him and sign the papers, thrusting them back at him with a scowl. 

He smiles as he looks down at them, placing them back on his desk before pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. You're shocked at first, but you melt into it, pulling him closer so he can't leave again. 

"I'm sorry. I had to come into the office to declare our relationship, Morgan sometimes tells me I have a one track mind, and when I woke up this morning, the one thing I wanted to do was get it in writing that you were mine." 

Your push the tears out of his face, and attempt to pull him down for another kiss. You don't get the chance, as the sound of several throats clearing around you burst your bubble. 

"Public space, no canoodling." Rossi shouts down at you from the balcony, a soft smirk on his face. 

Penelope runs in from her office, and stares wide-eyed at the lack of space between the two of you. "You! And you! Security cameras….. You!"

"Now, I'm sure there's a story here, but from the state of our little angel's neck here, I'm sure I don't want to hear it." Derek laughs, smacking Spencer on the back in praise as he walks up the stairs to the meeting room. 

You slap a hand over your neck, trying to pull the turtleneck further up to hide the mark you evidently missed. 

"She's my angel, now." Spencer calls up to him. "I have the paperwork to prove it."  

[ynscrazylife]

THE BAT IN THE SHADOWS 🦇🕸️ — CHAPTER THREE

Summary: Bruce Wayne is the happiest he’s ever been in a while. He has a beautiful wife, amazing children, and is stopping crime left and right as Batman. All that shatters when you, his wife, mysteriously disappears.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x Wife!Reader, Batfamily x Batman!Reader, Avengers x Reader (Platonic)

Series Masterlist

It takes quite a lot to confuse Batman. Yet here he stood, reduced to speechlessness, as he stared at the odd group in front of him. The woman called herself Black Widow, said she was looking for his wife. Bruce thought he would’ve remembered if you mentioned anyone like this before.

“Then you’ve come to the right place. I’m also looking for her. How do you know Y/N?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms. They didn’t seem to be . . . Evil, but he had no clue who the hell they were or what you had to do with it and that was very annoying.

Black Widow glanced at her friends and another one of them, a man in bulky, flashy red armor, stepped up. “We used to be on a team together. Years ago. Until a mission went wrong and . . . She disappeared. I guess she landed here,” he said.

This did not help at all. In fact, it only made Bruce more confused. He was positive that you never mentioned working on a team before. “How long ago is ‘years ago’?” He asked next.

“About five now,” Black Widow answered.

Bruce felt like he was being slapped in the face. He had met you five years ago, when you were a rookie officer. You and he dated for two years, then married, and you were so skilled that you made detective within four years. Could this really be true?

“How can I trust you?” Bruce asked.

The group all looked at each other, seemingly coming to this conclusion that this masked man had a connection to you. Then, the archer pulled a paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, passing it to Bruce. He stared down at it, shocked to find that it was a photo. It was all these people, at some party, and . . . You. You were definitely younger, but it was clearly you, smiling and holding a drink.

Willing his hands not to shake, Bruce looked up at them. “I have a lot of questions,” he said bluntly.

“So do we,” the armored man said. “What do you mean that you’re also looking for her? Isn’t she here?”

Bruce took a deep breath, thankful that the mask covered his face, otherwise they’d see the tears pooling in his eyes. “She was abducted a few days ago,” he replied, forcing his voice to be steady.

“That explains the weird signal I detected,” another man said. He had a beard, a cape and looked like some sort of wizard.

Yeah, Bruce had a shit ton of questions.

//

It took some time for parties, the Avengers and Bruce, to get to really talking. They both had to give up information they’d rather not to learn more about the person they all cared about. The Avengers explained that you used to be on their team, until you went missing on a mission like they mentioned earlier. They said they scoured the world for you, until consulting with the wizard guy over here (who called himself Doctor Strange, Bruce didn’t comment on the weird name).

Doctor Strange said that he detected a signal not long after you had disappeared and, with his magic, found out what it meant: you were off-world. In a whole other universe. They’d been scouring the multiverse (which Bruce almost needed to sit down for a second after hearing), until finding a similar signal a few days ago which led them here.

So that meant . . . Both signals gave your last known location, told them that you had been taken. The first one was from the universe that the Avengers were from and the second was from this one, the one where Bruce made a life with you.

He was still utterly perplexed and didn’t completely trust them, but that picture . . . The timeline . . . It was tugging at something inside him. Bruce admitted that he had known you for these past five years, though he didn’t outright admit that you two were married. He was going to hold that fact close for as long as possible.

Finally, the Avengers led Bruce back to the point of origin, where they arrived in the forest. The masked man turned it all upside down, sadly not finding anything that could help.

But . . . He did have something they could help with.

“I don’t really want to do this,” he admitted, turning back around to face them. “But this is my only choice. My only clue to find Y/N. If I find that you’re messing with me . . .”

“We’re not,” a man, about Bruce’s height, looking like the American flag, said sternly.

Bruce sighed, forcing his shoulders to drop. “I have some footage to show you,” he said, really hoping that he wasn’t going for regret this.

//

As soon as the Avengers saw the footage of the store from earlier, Black Widow went pale.

“No, no, no . . . This . . . They’re inactive. This is impossible,” she said, gritting her teeth. Hawkeye placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as all eyes turned to her.

“What?” Bruce asked, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

“Play it again,” she snapped, leaning in close to the computer.

Bruce glared, but complied, restarting the video.

She took in a sharp breath, crossing her arms. “These people . . . Their uniforms, their behavior. It has the Red Room written all over them,” she said, as it dawned on the Avengers how serious this was.

“The Red Room? What the hell is that?” Bruce asked, his patience wearing thin.

[playboysaleen]

Kalopisa. (2)

Kalopisa: (n.) The delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are. 

Parings: Victoria Neuman x Supe!Reader (GN) (Slight AU)

Chapter One - Chapter Two

Summary: You never had the best life. Being abducted at a young age, being raised in the most wanted mafia as a weapon, hell- becoming the most feared in the gang. But…Truth is, you only wanted freedom. Being able to wake up and not have to wonder if you were going to see the sunset again. What happens when your wish partially comes true and you are offered your freedom but at what cost? Oh, you’ll see. 

Warnings: Death, Swearing, everything you done seen is the Boyz is what you should expect here.

Word Count: 3.4k (not proof read.)

Slight AU.  Slight German dialect. Reader speaks and has a french accent. I realized that in the show they are russian....its slight AU anyways they gonna be german here so bear with me lol. This chap is a little background on the reader. So you can grasp the reason why the reader is the way they are.

__________________________

A little backstory on you since now the boyz are on their toes to get you not only their wish but yours as well. 

When you were a toddler, you were taken from your family by the underground. Nina your ‘boss’ was on the table to wipe your entire family including you but when she entered the room to see you hunched over your dead mother crying she did not hesitate to create a soft spot for you. Well, it wasn’t the tears you were spilling but the sight around you. She could care less about the cries but the bodies that laid behind you. She didn’t mind the sippy cup of milk that was dripping from the nightstand but a smile grew on her face when there was the blood seeping into your clothes from the mess you made. The death of four of her men ignited a flame in her…she had a weapon. 

Weapon this. Weapon that. That was all you were. The constant urge to rip that woman to shreds but for what? To be on the run for the rest of your life? Fuck that. You remember sitting on the kitchen counter watching Nina clean the blood that stained your jaw. You kept your guard up but her hand was placed against your cheek and it sent you over the edge. You cried in her arms for a few seconds till a firm grip on your jaw caused the sobs to stop in your throat. Eyes were locked and you could smell the anger in her veins. She was disgusted with your emotions.

After that night you remembered walking back to your room with her hand giving you a reassuring squeeze every now and then till you were guided past your door down the hall. You still remember the smell of infected flesh and alcohol once her hand was placed on the handle as she opened the door. You were thrown into the room with a few other men that were quick to attack you. Waterboarded then zapped with volts that could fry a human to a crisp, then waterboarded again, strung up and beaten till your face was unrecognizable. It hardly sent you over the edge but what got you to your limit is when they would not feed you. You couldn’t go two days or more without feeding- you became submissive. Leaning against the bars, using the last of your weight to extend out your hand when Nina crouched down to your position smiling your way. This went on for years until there was nothing left in you to cry about. Till this day, you could feel the zaps against your neck when the water engulfed you whole when you stepped into your shower. You were 11. Eleven. 

Who was Malina? Ah, a story that does indeed get you riled up. On your 18th birthday you were granted to leave the underground for the night with the friends you made to celebrate your entrance to adulthood. You had a friend that wasn’t with you in the shithole you lived in. Malina. Meeting her was a bit sketchy but from the life you lived it was a simple weekly drug deal you do on the daily. You leaned against the run down building playing with your hoodie strings when the woman appeared around the corner. 

“Took you long enough,” You muttered out, pulling the wad of cash out of your pocket as she huffed, sending you a bright smile. 

“Tony did not shut up about what to wear for tonight, I completely lost track but hey! He is coming and he is bringing along his friend.” She spoke out reaching for the money when you pulled your hand back sending her a look. She chuckled, removing the backpack and unzipping; showing you the product. You nodded waving the cash in her face, 

“Tell Tony I’d give him a big fat kiss if I was not gay.” You joked out earning a laugh from the girl in front of you. She grabbed the payment without her fingers running over your own. Her smile faded as she took a step towards you, 

“I’ll make sure Tony keeps all this under the rug for tonight.” She whispered, you stayed silent feeling her breath against your lips. Your eyes ran across her face but stayed on her plumped lips when all you could do is nod. You always felt this bubbling feeling in your stomach when you met her two years ago, but you couldn’t do much about it with you being 16 and her twenty-two. You heard the men from the underground mention women and it was safe to say you had a little crush on the woman but throughout the two years, you were coming to understand maybe you did like her. 

“See you tonight Malina.” You whispered, taking a step back making your way out of the alley. You opened the backpack taking another glance to make sure the supply was correct knowing Malina she just grabs and runs your way. The small box labeled ‘Red River’ sent a huff out your mouth but you took a peek to see the blue vials knowing it was another successful deal. 

“Je ne vais pas boire, j'ai dix-huit ans, pas vingt et un, idiot” (I am not going to drink. I am eighteen, not twenty-one dumbass.) You scolded the man slapping the back of his head. Dani pointed his beer your way when another bucket was placed on your table. Music softly rang throughout the poolhall when all you wanted to do is go slam your head against the concrete wall. You were babysitting these connards (assholes) instead of actually enjoying yourself. 

“How about this,” Danill laughed out, placing a beer in front of you. “You drink with us and I will take the next name tomorrow. Have time with that mutterloses mädchen (motherless girl) of yours.” You rolled your eyes but gave in when you grabbed the bottle taking a long swig. Danill and the goons cheered, patting your back as you huffed, grabbing the pool stick, walking to the table. 

“Qui va se faire botter le cul ensuite?” (who is getting their ass beat next?”) you sang out swiftly hitting the 8 ball into the pocket. Alexi grumbled out some German swears plopping down the seat next to Danill. 

“I got next.” You turned to see Malina removing her coat, you noticed Tony whispering to the girl next to him. ‘No one is going to see you.’ His friend nodded, releasing a shaky breath. Her eyes locked with yours and everything stopped. You could hear her heart beating in your ears and you couldn’t stop the small grin that painted your face. You found your next meal. Malina pulled you into a hug when you wrapped her arms around her waist as the feeling disappeared from within you. You leaned back but your body froze when her lips were placed against the corner of your mouth. 

“I got twenty on V.” Tony blurted out, Danill raised his beer his way adding, 

“I got twenty on your friend then,” Tony chuckled, waving his bill, slapping it on the edge of the pull table. V was your alias name to everyone you knew but the truth is, you don't even know your real one. The night was spent betting on you and Malina plus a couple rounds of booze. It was safe to say you were indeed having a good time. 

“Oh my god, this is my song!” Malina gushed, grabbing your hand that was focused on hitting the solid ball when it sent the 8 right into the pocket. Some groaned and most cheered getting money into their hands but you were more focused on trying not to trip over your feet when Maline dragged you through the crowd. You were freaking out, you didn’t know what to do- hell, you didn’t know if you could even dance. Your thoughts went silent when your hands were placed on her waist pulling you in. You followed her movement but soon slowed down when your eyes flickered to Tony's friend starting your way. Tony was too focused on trying to get the same treatment you were getting. He was in love with his best friend, huh good luck with that. You hummed softly when you smelled the nervousness from the girl in front of you, she wanted to kiss you…and she did. You let yourself get lost in this feeling but the sad truth about it all was that it wasn't yours. It was hers. 

“Nadia!” You heard Tony yell out over the music when you turned your head breaking the kiss. Malina chased you down for another kiss but you pulled away following a very stressed Tony. Exiting out the back, you walked down the alley to find Tony with his hands in the air shouting. 

“What do you want from me Nadia? I gave you everything and you’re already head over heels for the fucking kid?” 

“It’s not that Tony, please just stop.” She pleaded, Malina stood next to you watching the sight unfold. Tony was jealous? Do you? You took a step when Tony gripped her arm when she tried walking away. 

“Tony stop,” Malina shouted, Nadia's head turned your way when you stood there matching her gaze. A static voice sounded in your ears but you were quick to flinch at the feeling of warmth splattering against your face. You turned to face Malina but all you saw was red. Blood invaded your nose but the overwhelming feeling of pain struck you deep, you turned to see Tony with his hands behind his head panicking.

“Oh god Nadia, we need to go.” He pleaded yanking on her coat when all she could do was stand there frozen under your emotionless gaze. 

‘This is Beta-2, Suspect 2 has been neutralized. Please evacuate the scene, FBSA will arrive at 5.’ 

You watched Nadia’s eyes turn white but for some reason she couldn't do it. You were the target and she failed. Tony yanked her one last time till she turned on her heels fleeing the scene. You took one last glance at what was left of Malina walking back into the pool house. 

“Ils sont là (they’re here), We have five minutes.” You spoke out grabbing your coat, Danill whistled and everyone was quick to gather their belongings heading out the backdoor. 

“Scheisse, is that-” Danill started but you walked past him hopping onto your bike roaring it to life. 

“I will meet you there. I need to handle something.” speeding out towards the main road, you kept your head low when the flashes of those american colors flew by you. You knew the saying from the underground. "You take one, we take all.” 

You killed an entire FBSAs safe house that night. Unlatching from the last soldier you leaned back into the wall watching him crawl away from you. Heavy breaths were heard from you when you felt something sliding down your cheek. You were crying. Why the fuck where you crying? Quickly wiping away the tears, you grabbed the soldier as he whimpered under your stare. 

“Tell this Nadia that I will kill Tony and she will be next.” 

The man nodded as you let him scurry away heading back to the vought tower. You looked around the room at the lifeless, shredded, and drained bodies and it still didn't…help. The survivor did what he was told running into the main office crying out what had been done but once questions were asked the man dropped limp to the ground with black ooze sizzling its way out of his nose and mouth. With the venom you left in his bloodstream gave him enough time to say his goodbyes to his family and well… to get your message across. 

They couldn't find you since then. You went dark. Your face couldn’t be found on any security or satellite cameras but you did fulfill half your promise. Two years after the loss of Malina, you found Tony running another grimey team for Red River. You left witnesses so Nadia and her little team can clean up their mess but you only wanted one person. 

“I will give you anything V, please.” Tony begged as he cradled himself like an innocent fetus. You could see his vein pulsating on the side of his neck, but you did not want to drink from him. The small room seemed to shrink with the rage you felt once you found him but you knew what to do. You walked further into the room with your hands in your pockets clicking your tongue, 

“Oh Tony, Tony, Tony…” you sang out crouching down to his side, grabbing his jaw. You looked over his expression when in truth, his fear was all you needed in this moment. 

“Malina was your friend, no? What makes you think she won’t burst you to bits too?” You cooed out aggressively letting go of his jaw. You stood to your feet walking to the center of the room clasping your hands together. 

“Here is the plan- you have two options.” You started pointing your finger his way. 

“You can tell me where your friend is and I will make this quick, or if you still think she feels the same way and you do not tell me…then I will make sure you can feel death pulling you out of your body when I drain every last drop of your blood- your choice.” Tony cried out a bunch of ‘no’s’ to which you pouted grabbing the broken bat that laid against the night stand placing it softly on his jaw. He whimpered once more when you lifted his head up to face you. 

“It is a shame that you think that monster is going to love someone like you. She could have saved you by now but…” His eyes caught the blinking red light of the camera that was hidden in the corner of the room. “From the looks of it, I think she is enjoying the show. Now, any last words to her before I decide myself on what I shall do for you?” You hummed at his silence but soon smiled when he started wailing out his pleas to the camera. Backpedaling to the door, you placed your hand on the light switch waiting for his cries to die down but the man kept going. 

Clapping your hands together, Tony looked your way, 

“Oh shut the fuck up, you talk too much.” You mumbled, flicking off the light. His screams were music to your ears and you haven't even started yet. You stalked your way to him but stopped when you stood in front of him. You turned your head to face the camera flashing your blood-coated fangs. Little did you know, she was watching the entire time. She did not feel anything for the man that pleaded for her aid but the heat that pooled between her legs when your red eyes hued on her screen was so wrong but…fuck did she loved the feeling. 

“No, no nonono Please! Please V! Plea-” A gasp was heard from the woman when she slapped a hand over her mouth at the crunch that echoed from her screen. The loud gulps could be heard from the way you drank him dry. A moan slipped your mouth at the taste of his fear igniting the fire in her chest. A masked cough slipped from her when all she wanted to do is go along with the sounds you were making, god how she wanted to feel your fangs piercing her neck with your hand wrapped around her thro- 

“We will get a team down there-” a voice interrupted her fantasies, she lifted her hand shaking her head. 

“No, they will continue to come back and we have bigger things on our hands.” A loud thud sounded from the laptop as you dropped his body back onto the ground. 

“Oh Nadia…” you sang out, leaning against the wall waving at the camera. She turned her full attention to you. You were a killer. A monster and she was into every single bit of it. 

“One day, I will find you; pray to the gods that I am having a good day…and I’m fed.” You breathed out, moving closer to the camera waving the head of her beloved decapitated friend displaying the biggest fanged smile. 

“Until then mon amour.” 

You weren’t a child. You couldn’t even consider yourself being one since you had your childhood stripped away when you could barely walk. You were the devil. The boogeyman of every adult's nightmares. You were FBSA most feared. 

It’s been five years since then. The way your fingernails dug into the spade table when you saw her enter the screen with her navy blue pants suit. Who knew she’d be a dangerous super holding hands with the federal government. Her smile made your head want to explode but for some odd reason, you enjoyed the little rush of needles that poked its way into your dead heart. 

Now you had nowhere to go, Frenchie was the only person you could trust so here you were in a donut shop with Frenchie gawking over the glazed donut. 

“You have to try this one, Kimiko requested it for you!” He beamed pointing at the strawberry covered donut. You hummed as he took that as a yes, asking the lady for two. You stood watching him smile at the lady receiving the change. It was 5 in the morning, just an hour after the incident with Victoria. Butcher and Hughie suggested that it was best for you to take a breather while they find a way to get some sort of drug from this hideout Victoria once owned. 

“I did not know the Frenchie was a little chatte.” (pussy) Frenchie playfully shoved you when you stumbled back a bit. A laugh spilled your lips when you swung your arm over his shoulder. 

“Kimiko showed me a side to life I did not know there was. It is a nice cauchemar, you should visit that place sometime.” He playfully defended. You scoffed, shaking your head at his antics when he shoved a bottle of chocolate milk into your chest. You inspected the drink as a smile fought its way to your face. 

“I remember you used to steal these from the corner store for me.” You laughed out, opening the bottle taking a long sip. A satisfied sigh was heard from you when you both made way into the elevator. He patted your shoulder smiling softly, 

“Well, now you can get as many as you want.” He assured you, he opened the door and walked in but he gave you a smirk, “not too many we don't need un gros démon, what is the point?”(a fat demon) you shoved him once he placed the bag of treats on Kimiko's desk. You wandered deeper into the office making your way up stairs to the loft area entering the bedroom. You took a seat on the small sofa that sat next to the bed, you fought between the urge of snapping her neck and…running your finger through her hair. 

She starred in her sleep moving her head turned to face you when you leaned back into the sofa letting it engulf you whole. Your eyes raked over her face when you tried everything and anything to look away but you couldn’t. You wanted her dead. 

“I’m surprised I didn’t burst to pieces while I was asleep.” She spoke, fluttering her eyes open to meet your threatening stare. You leaned deeper into the sofa open your legs a big wider, 

“I like to play with my food before I feed.” 

Her heart sped up with what came out of your mouth and you caught it. She moved onto her stomach as the sounds of the cars now driving to work were heard outside the window. Her eyes never leaving yours, 

“Why didn’t you kill me?” She whispered. Tilting your head, you moved from your position leaning closer that you were only a foot apart from her. 

“Where is the fun in that?” You whispered as your eyes flashed the red that has haunted her dreams from years ago. You wanted to kill her but something about her led you to wanting to see a certain side in action and…it wasn’t to kill Homelander. 

_____________________

One thing i am going to say... there will be alot of tension in this. Im not only teasing yall, I am doing this to myself lmfaooooo.

[existentialgaybirdnerd]

2 and a half PhDs

It was a sweltering day when Soap found out about how smart his LT really is.

The only thing anyone had taken notice of all day was how miserable they were, how unfairly hot the weather was, how shit the food in the mess hall was for such a miserable day.

That's all that had been talked about in the Taskforce 141 rec room, how much Gaz and Soap would kill to have a better cooling unit or someone to blot out the sun for like 5 minutes so they can cool down even a little, how stupid it would be for Ghost to be wearing his mask on what is probably the hottest day of their LIVES.

And then, like the devil, speak of him and he shall appear. Ghost walks into the room holding a couple of heavy-looking books and a notebook.

Soap briefly entertains the thought that Ghost has been abducted and replaced. The glare sent at him when he says something snarky about wearing a balaclava in this heat puts that thought to rest quickly.

Without saying a word to either of them, Ghost situates himself at the nearby table set, sets down his heavy books, arranges his notebook in a way only he can make sense of (on top of one book while the other is turned open to the left of it???), and starts writing something from the book on the left into the notebook with his brows obviously furrowed underneath the material of his mask.

No one says anything for a few minutes, tense silence filling up the space as Soap and Gaz find their balance with this new dynamic of Ghost being near enough to touch but still untouchable in the softest manner they've seen him yet.

Ghost gets out his phone after a moment, typing something quickly and looking back and forth between the notebook and the phone, then scribbling over his most recent sentence and writing something short in the book he was writing from.

"What's that?" Soap decides to break the silent spell, curiosity getting the better of him as Ghost looks more and more miffed at the open book to his left.

"Astrophysics, although I guess it's too old. A sentence or two on this page are completely wrong, I didn't notice that when I bought it." Ghost replies in the longest non-mission sentence he's spoken to them, barring the string of puns and jokes he spouted at Soap in Las Almas, his tone betraying his anger at the information stored in the book.

"Why in the bloody hell do you have an astrophysics book? And why are you taking notes from it, especially if it's so old that some data is wrong?" Gaz decides to be the next to break the short silence after that revelation, shifting in discomfort when Ghost looks up at him from beneath his heavy brow.

Looking closer at the book Ghost has in front of him, they can visibly see how old it is based on the frayed cloth-like texture of the cover and the faded pale-green color of said cover.

Instead of an answer, Ghost just shuts the book, shifts his notebook on top of it, and switches the positions of the two big books.

The two on the couch get a better look at the second book than the first when he props it up against the astrophysics book to look something else up on his phone, a good portion of the open front cover peeking over and to the side of the other book and the notebook, boasting the words "Philosophy 101" in black and yellow print with multiple drawings of well-known figures and a "The Thinker" statue picture.

Gaz and Soap look at each other in confusion, turning back to the man at the table as he makes an approving noise and flips to the back of the book to look at something, then grab the notebook from behind his current book and flip to a different page than he was writing on earlier, noting something short down.

"Everything alright?" Soap manages to get out through his rising confusion, not understanding what Ghost is doing with these books, much less taking notes on them.

"Yeah, this one's within 10 years of relevancy, so it's fine, I shoulda checked before I bought them." Ghost turns back to the front page as he says this, then reads something and picks out a page to turn to, jotting something else down on the same note page.

At this moment, Price walks in, effectively stopping Gaz from continuing in the interrogation he was about to start in on.

Price looks between the men on the couch and the man at the table, seeming to make up his mind about something before zeroing in on the books on the table. "Oh, Simon, good. I was about to ask if you're busy today so we can go over some details Laswell sent me, but I guess you're working again huh?"

At the nod he's given, Price just sits down sideways at the table and says nothing else, further confusing the two occupants of the couch as he brings out his own phone and starts seemingly texting. No follow up to that statement. No other statements to follow.

"Ok, seriously, what's happening right now?" Gaz inquires, tone veering into almost panicked and almost angry, confusion morphing the longer he goes without answers to this very bizarre chain of events.

"Simon's studying-" as an afterthought, and cutting himself off, Price turns to Ghost more fully from his slumped position on his own chair "right? I'm not misinterpreting that?" a gesture at the books on the table clarifies his use of "that" despite not necessary.

"Yeah, been bored lately, thought I would finally go for my third." Ghost's response hangs in the air as Price turns back to his sideways position and gestures to Gaz in a "there you go" way, leading to more confusion on behalf of the two sergeants.

"Very clear, thank you sir" Soap grits out between clenched teeth, impatience showing. "I would like to clarify: a third what?"

"Degree" is clipped from the table as Ghost goes to shut the book, impatience brimming from him as well. "You didn't think I was stupid did you?"

"No sir" The surprise of the answer and the accusation bleeds the tension out of Gaz in a second.

"I wouldn't expect any less than a degree or two from you, but you two are being vague about the whole thing, would it kill you to give a detail or two so we don't have to keep asking questions about what you're talking about?" Soap's irritation ebbed at the surprise as well, but he hung onto the confusion of the interaction "Since you're working on a third degree, what subjects are the others in? What subject is this one in, actually?"

Ghost tenses at the question, never quite ready to reveal information about himself and get closer to those he doesn't want to die because of him. He untenses and locks eyes with Price when he feels a boot hit his shin, a comfort to let him know that Price is there to clean up any mess Ghost may make. Like he always has been.

"My first PhD is in astrophysics, although I don't have my textbooks anymore and don't remember quite a bit of what I learned. Too many concussions. My second PhD is in aerospace engineering, I decided that knowing about space wasn't enough, building stuff to get us there was the next logical step." A pause to take a breath and determine if he lost his audience.

At the astonished nod from both men on the couch, he continues.

"Now I'm getting my PhD for philosophy, because apparently inconsistent and confusing things are an interest. Questions answered now?"

Soap stands up and points an almost accusing finger at Ghost, "You just told us you have two and a half PhDs, and you're in the military? For what?"

"Personal reasons Johnny, it doesn't matter much now anyway."

A scoff follows this statement, a hand gesturing to the books on the table. "You're obviously smarter than you give yourself credit for ever, so I think it kind of matters. I won't pry though. I'm just glad you've got something going for you that isn't 100% military."

At the shrug he gets for this, Soap just shakes his head and sits down. "Really, I shouldn't even be surprised at anything you do anymore."

Before the discussion can devolve any further into the topic of Ghost, Price makes a noise of interest at his phone, quickly turning it to Simon to see, whose eyes quickly grow round and wide as he grabs his own phone and dials a number. Ghost gathers his things and stands with them in his arms as the call seems to connect, excitement in his movements. He's halfway down the hall by the time the two sergeants gather themselves up from their stupor and shoot questioning glances at Price.

"Black hole was photographed, he really likes space" is the answer given as Price shows them a news article about said photo, then stands up to walk out himself.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

RED-WING BLACKBIRDS AND DARK DAHLIAS (XVII)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XVIII ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.3k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, angst, guns/weapons, injury, abduction, talks of abduction, talk of interrogations, protective/worried Gaz, Gaz's POV, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

They called him back to the US the second word got out that you and your mother were gone, and all through the flight, Kyle couldn’t stop clenching and unclenching his hands.

His eyes stared straight ahead, jaw so tight that he could feel his molars screaming at him to let off the pressure. All he did was bite down harder. Leg jumping in one of the metal seats of the C-17, the Sergeant had already run through his gear multiple times just to try and pull some semblance of surety from them—a weight of normalcy. 

He had his magazines, he had his med pouch, and lines connecting his radio. Straps and ties, scissors next to wire cutters. 

None of his mind games were helping. He couldn’t run through his mental checklist any more than he already had; having to be up into the twenties of times he’d counted through items and packed goods. Kyle was always steady—he was always ready. Yet, he can’t say he’d ever been as thrown off his course as he had when he got the hurried phone call from Laswell. 

They’re gone. Get back here as soon as possible. 

There hadn’t been a moment of peace afterward—the man doesn’t even think he’s slept, much less eaten beyond a granola bar and a sip of water. Price had been side-eyeing him since his impromptu interrogation session back in Russia; the blatant disregard of orders. He’d been less than impressed about it, even if it had hailed them the answers they’d been looking for.

Gaz can’t even care to remember the hissed words he’d been passed in the car back to base—can’t think beyond the heavy-set fear in his breast. His heart beat hard in his ribcage, like a hammer shattering glass. The man’s eyes are beady and small. His shoulders wound high.

With a small growl under his breath, Kyle moves his spine back stiffly to connect with the back of the seat, feet resetting themselves. 

Johnny, across the way, spares him a glance, lips thinning. Over the noise is the hard assurance. “She’ll be fine, Mate, yeah? Just focus on gettin’ down there and finding ‘er.”

“Right,” brown eyes aren’t able to convey the same hope, and Gaz says the word on autopilot. He doesn’t want to talk—he needs to move. A man of intelligence brought down to the level of sprinting head first onto the scene because of a single woman. 

The Scot frowns, sharing a glance with Price. It isn’t any use, they know the Sergeant is restless. 

Even as the plane is landing, Garrick’s skin is stiff across his skull, scars pulling tight. When the cargo hold is open, he’s the first off the ramp. 

Kate waits impatiently a small distance away, eyes grim.

“Laswell!” Gaz calls, jogging lightly away from the friction in the air from the C-17. The woman stares at him, blue eyes glancing back as Price catches up easily. The last two follow, bringing down the bags with their gear plus Garricks. Kyle licks his lips before speaking, sunglasses at the collar of his vest swinging. 

“How did this happen?” He hisses, teeth bared. “Bloody hell, you said Alex was on her—I was told she would be under twenty-four-hour watch.”

“Sergeant,” Kate levels. “There’s been more activity here than I’d like to admit.” Her attention shifts to the Captain, who slips up and speaks stiffly. 

“What’s the situation, Kate?” 

“John,” the woman sighs, tilting her head. “It’s good you’re all here—we need as many eyes on this as possible. Follow me.”

“Kate,” Garrick moves forward, but a firm hand snaps to his shoulder, keeping him back. John’s unblinking eyes dig. The correction was as clear as day: show some respect—the information was coming. It wouldn’t help to rush into things, and, under that heavy blue gaze, Kyle won’t. 

When had the Sergeant forgotten his training?

Gaz darts his head forward and clenches his jaw in thin understanding.  

The flight from Russia back to Chicago was over thirteen hours, all four men were tired from running in circles and the time difference. But the job was the job. Gaz would drink as much caffeine as needed, even if he knew that he needed the rest more than anything, if not for his body then for his mind. The meeting room was a short and quick distance—the door barely shut and locked before business began in its regular grisly fashion. 

Gaz refused to sit, instead standing with his hands hanging from his combat vest, thumbs tapping in a repeated, and obviously anxious, manner. 

He needed to find you—safe. Alive. He needed to, and he can’t describe why out loud. The man had thought that maybe your lack of a phone call the night previous had been because of general fatigue and sickness; it would make sense with how you’d been nauseous all the time. On a few calls, you’d been falling asleep mid-sentence.

The flashing images of you possibly injured, bloodied, or even dead, left Gaz’s throat clearing quickly; face going from rage to fear to panic in a split second before forcing itself back to a practiced nothingness he reserved for interrogations. Except it felt like he was the one in the chair this time around. 

Please, he thinks. Please, for the love of God, let her be okay. Fuck…this never should have happened. 

He never should have left.

Laswell starts explaining just as the Captain lets off a grunted sentence. “What’s going on?”

“I went after her, but by the time I heard the gunshot, it was already too late.” The woman shakes her head. “This base was on an entire lockdown—no one was allowed close to our building.”

“Gunshot?” Gaz takes a step forward, head leaning closer as if he’d heard wrong. The others move past it, knowing there’s more. “Why was there already a lockdown in place?”

“Any cameras?” Ghost asks, partially interrupting. His intimidating form looms near the corner, casually leaning against the wall. 

“That’s why I called you back so quickly,” Kate breathes. “Look.” The laptop is grabbed from the side of the main table and dragged over as everyone mulls around. “I didn’t want to risk it over an open channel. Who knows who could be listening.”

“Kate?” John asks, a bit confused as the man’s legs shift weight. “Listening? Who are we talking about?”

“That fellow?” MacTavish asks, glancing at the others curiously. “Chiyou, was it?”

“If it is,” the woman breathes, “then every one of my hunches is proved right.” Blue eyes dart up as the projector whirs to life from above. The light blinks on, shining to the white screen along the wall. “No one else has seen this, and I’d like to keep it that way, boys. All of it from this point forward is completely Black. Off the books.”

“Then let's get to it,” Gaz states firmly, nearly shaking from inaction. His attitude is snappy; body eager to move. He has to do something. “We’re wasting time, Laswell. Every moment is a second lost where Spitfire could be hurt—”

“We all know how much you care, Kyle,” a stern face bares down into his, but the Sergeant’s gaze doesn’t falter for one instant. “But this is far more complicated than anything we’ve encountered before.” A pause. “Focus.”

“I am focused, Ma’am,” Gaz utters, clenching his hands again, feeling the scrape of rough material from his vest. His eyes are sparking with rage, brimming with a deadly promise. “Lazer.” 

“Good,” Is the easy response. “Because you’ll want to see this.”

The first image Gaz sees is you, and for that small instant, his pounding pulse stutters like a schoolboy. The grainy motion of your body as you sit down into the seat outside, placing down your journal and your laptop…brown eyes finch closed in confusion. 

Journal? 

Wasn’t that your father’s? When did you find that? Kyle’s mind runs, but all he can settle on is the possibility of you finding it back at your estate…and never mentioning it to him. Despite it all, there’s a quick flicker of something like a smirk across his lips before he watches you cough into your arm through the video. From there, though, Gaz’s attention becomes sharper, honing in like a blade the longer nothing happens.

Kyle studies every frame—every shift from the bushes and your hands pulling out your coin from your pocket, the item glinting in the low light. He’d never got to ask you why that thing was so important. A pang hits his chest, making Gaz’s sweaty hands twitch a bit harder. Seeing you there made his lungs crush in on themselves—there’s a need to try and break through the projection just to grab you back. 

Focus, the Sergeant has to think. Get her back.

But his mind jumps to every time you’d stared into his eyes up to now, your growing bond that he felt proud of being a part of—some semblance of healing. Your lips so very close to his in the remnants of a dark room. 

By the time the figure slips up behind you, the realization is enough to make Kyle’s hands drop seriously; Johnny, Ghost, and Price all going stone-still as their eyes snap back in slight shock. Gaz’s face drops.

Because it was no one else but your mother that now goes and points a gun at your head. 

“What the fuck,” the Sergeant hear’s Johnny whisper under his breath. 

It’s as if the fire is stolen from Garrick’s chest in one foul gust of wind. A chill so deep it leaves the hair on his arms standing pulls from the depths of his gut—intestines bunching; stomach writhing. His eyes stare so hard, that the tendons behind them pull like a tight string. 

Your mother. 

It all fit together so well, that the sudden realization made his mouth water with the warning of bile. Gaz wants to will the video to stop—and his teeth grind together as he glares at your pixelated form, none the wiser as your matriarch raises and levels the black barrel behind your head just after your fingers grasp at a something from the journal; dropping another piece of paper to the ground before quickly bending to retrieve it.

“Turn around,” Kyle harshly whispers to himself. “Fucking hell, Love, Please turn around.” 

He pleads to whatever God might be listening, no, even then, to any anti-christ or demon that grips at his blackened soul—any of them; any broken, rotten bit of his heart. Something had to move you.

The gun raises, it follows the shifting of your head.

Kyle’s legs wanted to bolt, to run to wherever this footage had been filmed on some off-chance-hope that this was all a big farce—some lie; a test. A test he can break apart and analyze, a test he can understand. But Gaz can’t understand the raw fear that makes his eyes snap from you to the gun like a quivering child.

Suddenly he’s a little boy again, and his mother is giving him his father’s watch and explaining why the man isn’t here. Kyle feels very, very small. In fact, the Sergeant had never felt like more of a failure in his entire life. 

“Please,” is all that he can mutter past numb lips, the others in the room irrelevant in the grainy shadow of a mangled woman trying to piece together her family's broken bits of polished glass. A kaleidoscope of crimson shards, dripping blood over her head; he knew how much it weighed on you, damn it, he knew. The things you’ve already gone through, he burned because of it. All of this is some great brand that sears his flesh: sinner.  

Kyle shakes his head, jaw grinding before his fingertips threaten to draw crimson crescents in his palms.

“Just turn around.” He snaps, voice grating in his throat like a dog—eyes tight.

By the grace of whatever God had heard him, just before the quick flare of the bullet being discharged from the gun, your body drops to the ground. 

John grunts beside him, arms shifting, and a great heaving sigh rattles through Gaz’s lungs. Your figure scrambles as pages erupt into the air—the journal on the table having been struck at the angle your mother had pointed the weapon; trailing down with her arm steady at the force. 

The sense that she’d held a gun before was a quick thought, nothing more, as Kyle’s brown gaze sears the projector screen. Scrambling, the Sergeant holds his breath as you break for the cover of some potted plants, limping because of your thigh before your mother turns her head and calls sharply to someone out of the camera's range—there’s no sound on this footage, so the command is lost. 

There’s a crackle on the screen, and the video snaps to black. Kyle’s heart breaks itself.  

“Bring it back up!” He barks, neck straining itself. Gaz rushes forward, grabbing at the computer as his Captain gruffly reprimands his actions. 

“Garrick!” 

“This is all we could grab,” is the even tone. “There were multiple arrests in our surveillance building, they’re all being questioned right now. No one’s spilling.”

The Sergeant’s hands run the keys, messing with the space bar. Brown eyes land on the silent woman in barely hidden desperation.

“Where’s the rest of it? Where’d she run off to—there needs to be more we can go through. A–” He trails, teeth snapping. “A direction, a lead, something, Laswell.”

“What the fuck is going on,” John grinds out, moving his glare from Garrick to Kate. 

“Her own mother?” Soap adds, raising a dark brow and making a noise under his breath. “Talk about a special family, aye?”

“Could say that again,” Ghost utters, huffing. “She got the package deal.”

“Bloody watch it,” brown eyes barely move from the screen as silence seeps into the room. Gaz’s fingers shift back the time to when you were rushing past that potted plant. A sharp sheen of horrified analysis was rooted like veins into Kyle’s sights now—a feral want.

You had to have left him something to find you. You were smart like that; you were devilishly sneaky when you needed to be—when there was only a second of lightning-strike action. 

You had to have.

An aggressive fire so rare to the Sergeant seems to easily overtake him every time your mother’s face is visible to the camera. A blood-red adding of his brain so much so his hands visibly twitch along the pad. 

“Major breach of all functions on base,” Kate answers the Captain, looking deathly serious. “We have no clue how long this has been going on.”

“The mother,” John levels. 

“I had a hunch,” the woman admits.

“Why didn’t you say anything,” Kyle’s body straightens from where it was hunched over the computer, anger getting the better of him. “Fucking hell, Laswell. Spitfire,” he breathes, “my charge is gone and you had doubts?!”

“Sergeant,” the Captain’s voice is deathly cold. “...Stand down.”

Blazing brown meets Kate’s deep blues—drilling.

“I left her here,” Kyle forces out, shaking hand moving into a slow fist over the laptop. 

The room is swept with a delicate pause. 

Laswell sighs, blinking. She looks to the side, averting her eyes. “There was no actionable intel on her mother. I did the best I could without support, but it was limited to what Alex could find out and relay to me.” The woman shakes her head, motioning with a hand. “Medicine was going missing from the hospital building, but the records never showed that was the case—it was word of mouth. Business dealings that didn’t add up from years back after the failed interrogation of Spitfire’s father; all of it not enough. The tracks were hidden so well, it would have taken a team that sat in the hundreds—thousands, even.”

“Needle in a haystack,” Ghost breathes. “The cell overseas?”

“East China?” Kate blinks, tilting her head.

“Only lead we’ve got,” John grunts, shaking his skull and glaring at the table. “Doesn’t help much, Kate. Whole country.”

“That’s if she’s still alive,” MacTavish adds under his breath, sharing a glance at Gaz. 

The other Sergeant isn’t even listening—the pointless babble of the ones who’d ripped him away from you; as if it wasn’t his own hands that had sent in that reassignment form. ‘

“C’mon, Spitfire,” Kyle bites his lips, fastly tapping the arrow keys to see every frame over and over again. 

Your quick duck, the whites of your eyes, that slackened jaw of terror—he doesn’t think you even realize that it’s your mother, just the threat of death enough to block it out. You turn, and the item in your hand bunches with the tightness of your grip. 

Gas interrupts the hurried speaking from the others. 

“The journal—the USB, did you find them?” 

“All of it was recovered,” Kate answers. “Except whatever it was that she was holding.”

Kyle’s spine hunches, looming closer to the screen. It’s the grain that blocks his vision from the truth—the utter shite of the quality pathetic even to him. 

“Where was this?” The Sergeant asks. “The camera recording?”

Laswell nods, giving away the information as if citing off a report. “It’s a small rest area off the back entrance of building C. We kept them both there as new personnel cycled through.”

Kyle’s already out the door, only blinking at the last image of your hand slapping the side of a potted plant and the glance backward as your mother once more raises the gun. A stupid hope was that you’d be here, despite it all. But the slam of his boots only echoed to his ears alone.

Brown eyes shifted from one area to the next, scanning table and chair—everything had been searched already; most likely by Laswell and Alex. 

“Anything,” Kyle turns a circle, hands sweaty. He needed you back. He needed you here minutes ago; hours ago. Your rare eye contact, your laugh that he had become addicted to drawing out of you like honey, the way you spoke, and walked. It had become too much for the man, and his affection for you was so deep now that it was impossible to deny—you’d snuck your way into his heart when he wasn’t looking, and even if you never returned the feelings that you’d infected him with like a poisoner, this agony was unlike anything definable by vocalization. 

This was torture that he couldn’t fight against. 

“You’re smart, Sweetheart,” he gasps, expression pained. “You left me something, I know you did. You left me something to follow.”

If you were the hare, then Gaz would become the hound. You wouldn’t be gone for long, mark every work he’d ever said and most certainly the ones that he hadn’t. He was getting you back beside him, and then he needed to look into your eyes and spill every secret that was ingrained into his DNA. 

Lashes moving, Gaz’s legs carry him across concrete and patches of grass, the crunch of it underfoot. He glances at the table, giving it a once over, bending to study below it—nothing. Kyle grunts lowly, growing more desperate as the seconds draw longer. 

The man passes the potted plants, shifting to run his boot over the grass and ruffle anything that might be stuck in the earth. 

Nothing. 

“Spitfire,” Kyle growls under his breath, backing up a step stiffly. He runs a hand over the base of his neck, fingertips dragging to stimulate the heated skin. 

When it’s all nearly lost, there’s a moment when the light of the sun perfectly aligns with something metallic from the corner of the Brit’s vision. A tiny glint of reflection from the sun leaves Gaz’s eyes flinching in a reactionary display. Grunting, the Sergeant’s head tilts away in annoyance, looking over with a growling ill-temper to the dirt of the first potted plant, ready to snap at it with vitriol. 

But the insult to the inanimate object dries like a desert storm slashed through Gaz’s mouth on the back of a lion. It’s a small thing, hidden under the deep brown of the dirt—the Sergeant doesn’t even know what it is or if it’ll even help before his hands are grasping and ripping away the top layer rabidly. 

His heart pounds, bruising his ribs with the frantic pulse of life. Dirt flies through the air, and Gaz’s grip slides over something metal—something cold. A sharp hiss is barked from him as he accidentally slices his fingertips as he snatches it, the crinkle of paper mimicking before that, too, is stolen with a fast thought. 

“That’s my girl,” Kyle chuckles, though it's serious—lacking anything more than a hurried second of relief. “That’s my fucking girl…okay. Okay, I can work with this, yeah?”

What is pressed into the soil is your coin, the one you always try to carry no matter what, and a piece of lined paper. 

Gaz thinks out loud.

“From the journal?” He asks under his breath, brows pulling in. His attention jumps from one word to the other, but the sudden color of red steals the only ounce of hope he may have gotten. 

Blood. 

Your smeared fingerprints spread along the page and Kyle’s face balks back with a blink of panic, eyes snapping this way and that until it’s clear that the display of gore was more than residual splatter—it was circling a sequence of numbers; if the contents of the letter were anything to go by, the date of your expected graduation from college. 

A sequence of numbers. 

Kyle’s jaw slackens, and he reacts much slower than he knows he should just off of the anxious shaking of his hands as he clenches the paper and the coin. 

“USB,” he utters, breathing heavily. 

And the coin—that tiny piece of your life, that small item you fiddled with but never showed beyond a quick glimpse when you were twirling it. Kyle flips the image as he stands fully, licking his lips as he begins to jog back to Laswell and demand the USB. 

Yet, there’s something that makes a startling amount of pained sense about the inscription on that coin. But he still takes it like a knife to the stomach with a sharp breath. 

‘TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE: UNITY, SERVICE, RECOVERY.’ A triangle with the image of the Roman numeral ‘I’.

It was a one-year Alcoholics Anonymous sobriety coin.

—

“Where was it?” Laswell takes the note and blinks down at it, face stiffening at the smears of blood. Kyle’s fingers grasp and drag the laptop to him, panting from how he’d run. The man doesn’t answer, muttering under his breath the numbers as the screen blinks to life. The USB was already plugged in—a result of the fast call that Kyle had thrown the woman’s way, needing it to be ready for him.

Kate passes the paper to Price, who walks to stand behind Gaz—Ghost and Johnny both following to see what the Sergeant had found before he busted back through the meeting room door. 

“She hid it,” Kyle grunts. Long fingers tapping, the keys give way as the numbers are typed in one after the other. “I knew she’d left me something—there was no way she wouldn’t.”

His Captain’s fingers push away dark particles of dirt, but his blues blink up to stare at Garrick as, finally, that password screen breaks away to the pop-up of the file selection. 

“Yes!” Gaz says under his breath, eyes intense; nearly unblinking. 

There isn’t much left to do except look—study. But there wasn’t time for that. Wherever you were, if your mother had you, there was an urgency that couldn’t be overlooked. There had to be something in this USB that gave the answers that everyone was searching for—what you had been searching for.

The location of a hub. But now…there could be something even more valuable in these files—a place where Gaz could bring you back to him.

Brown eyes slip from one file to another, all labeled from ‘2006 Dealings’ to ‘Reports from 04-03: Row’. All organized neatly, maybe no more than ten plainly visible.

“Sergeant,” Kate shifts closer, reaching. 

“I’m getting there, Laswell,” he breathes, “I need to find her before she’s gone forever.”

Kate and John share a look. The woman breathes, “This needs to go to the proper channels for analysis. We can’t rush this intel—one wrong step and the USB could wipe itself if there’s a failsafe hidden in the code.”

Gaz huffs, clicking through documents ruthlessly. “Bullshit.” 

Soap blinks in shock. They all knew that Garrick could be hotheaded and stubborn, but it never extended itself so much as to be a repeated hindrance to the team—in Russia and now were the exceptions. 

“Gaz,” Price says under his breath, watching tightly. “We all know you’re worried, but until we get solid intel, we can’t move after her. Location is only a part of what needs to be understood, Sergeant.” 

Long fingers flinch to slam into the file near the very bottom, and the screen freezes before Gaz blinks at it in anger—in rage—as his palm slaps the table, eyes spearing the individuals behind him.

He barks, “You’re not the bloody people who promised her she’d be safe!” 

The second the sentence sparks electricity in the room, an explosion of blueprints, diagrams, and progress charts move over the laptop screen. Attention snapping back, flinching wide, Gaz’s face pulls as all of it settles on the very last image—the only one he needs to see. 

It was an aerial view of Eastern China, and along the vast coastline, there were markings in the tens of navy-colored pinpoints. Port locations, maybe; warehouses and factories. But all locations.

Gaz stands up, blinking down at the map slowly. 

Taking a slow breath, Kyle swallows down the saliva in his throat and grinds out lowly into the deathly silent room, “When are we starting, Sir?”

TAGS:

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[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Saturday Morning

Plot: Jamie and Y/n spend an unconventional day off together.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: f!reader, language, mention of child abuse/neglect

A/N: Annndd we’re finally in it in it. A little bit of backstory, a little bit of trauma bonding and a whole lot of fluffy angst. Enjoy!!

(I also fell way behind w/ the taglist and since this series is maybe PG-13, I’m dropping the 16+ 💕)

—————

Someone was knocking on the door.

No, not knocking. Pounding.

Y/n slipped out of bed silently, as if the intruder was already inside her apartment. Bleary-eyed and stumbling in the dark, her hands fumbled for the baseball bat she kept behind her closet door. She’d had it since college and she couldn’t believe she was finally going to have to use it.

The banging continued as she walked through the apartment and down the stairs, growing louder the longer it went unanswered. Whoever was coming to abduct or rob her was clearly in a rush to do so.

Y/n steadied her breath and adjusted her grip on the bat, daring to peek through the peephole and see what she was up against.

“Wha-“ she uttered, lowering her bat and unlocking the door. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

On her stoop, Jamie was bouncing in place, “Can I use your loo?”

Y/n squinted, putting up a hand to block the bulb of Jamie’s stupid headlamp. “What?”

“Roy and I are on a run and I’ve gotta take a piss,” Jamie explained hurriedly, “You’re the only person I know in the neighborhood.”

With a heart rate well over 120 and a mind sluggish from sleep, it took Y/n a second to process his words. “I thought you were a fucking burgler,” she groaned.

Jamie whipped his hand frantically, “Is that a yes?”

Y/n was tempted to shut the door and let him take his chances with a public urination charge. Her friendlier instincts won out and she stepped to the side, letting Jamie race up the staircase to her bathroom. She shut and locked the door once more before trudging back up and setting her bat on the kitchen counter.

A moment later, Jamie emerged, calm and laughing to himself about something. “What kind of burgler knocks before robbin’ ya?”

Y/n was in no mood for his sense of humor. “It is 4-fucking-AM,” she pointed to the stove clock, “I am a single woman who lives on her own and it is 4-fucking-AM.”

“Alright, alright,” Jamie held his hands up in surrender, “Coulda texted you. I’m sorry.”

Y/n leaned against the back of her couch and wiped her hands over her face. Jamie made his way to the stairs, but was struck with a grand idea before he could take the first step.

“Do you wanna come with?”

Y/n glanced up from her palms, “What?”

“With me,” Jamie continued, “Roy. Go for a mornin’ run?”

“What part of 4-fucking-AM isn’t getting through to you?” Y/n asked, floored by his oblivion.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna be up anyway now,” Jamie shrugged, hopping from one foot to the other, “Get your blood pumpin’. Some endorphins.”

Y/n stared at him and wondered if she tried hard enough, could she kill him with eye contact alone?

“It’ll be fun,” Jamie smiled, jutting out his neck a little.

As much as it pained her to admit, he was right. There was no chance in hell she was getting back to sleep with all her senses dialed to 11. It was either tossing and turning in bed for an hour before she admitted defeat and started her day, or do something productive.

Y/n rolled her eyes and brushed past Jamie to grab her running shoes. “4 fucking AM…” she grumbled as she passed him once more.

Jamie made two victorious fists, too pleased with himself to acknowledge the fact that he’d robbed her of a precious Saturday sleep-in. She’d enjoy herself once they got out.

Grabbing a hoodie and locking up her apartment, Y/n followed Jamie out to the street where Roy was waiting on the sidewalk. Under the light of his own headlamp, he looked as confused as Y/n had moments before when he saw her trailing behind Jamie.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“Convinced States to join us, yeah?” Jamie answered as Y/n yawned.

“I’m gonna fucking push you into the first lake we see,” Y/n glared at the back of Jamie’s head.

Roy looked between his trainee and the woman he barely knew, but respected for the threat alone. Nodding, his eyes landed on Y/n, “You can stay if you keep up.”

“No problem there,” Y/n sighed, taking off into a jog. If Jamie was going to ruin her day off, the least she could do was beat him.

Sharing a glance of amusement, Jamie and Roy ran after Y/n, into the early London morning.

—————————

It turned out to be a fair fight between Y/n and Jamie. Jamie hadn’t underestimated her, per se, but he figured her exhaustion would slow her down. She’d held her own right up against him and impressed even Roy.

“You’re fuckin’ fit, you are,” Jamie said after, the two of them having gone for tea afterwards. He quickly realized the double meaning of the word, “I mean, not like that. I mean, you are, yeah, but I mean-“

“Oh my gosh, words,” Y/n groaned, reaching with one hand to Jamie’s mouth, “Stop.”

Jamie swerved to avoid the hit, chuckling after. “You’re a proper asshole when you’re tired,” he snickered.

“Well, when I get woken up at 4AM,” Y/n glared over at the man, “No, I don’t feel particularly kind.”

The two of them strolled through Richmond, Roy having left them mere minutes ago. They’d run on and off for about an hour before Y/n had to sit through the rest of their regiment. She’d taken a great deal of joy in sitting back with Roy and yelling commands at Jamie.

“I think Roy’s gonna invite you every mornin’ now,” Jamie mused, taking a sip of tea.

Y/n faked a gasp, grasping Jamie’s bicep, “Getting to hurl insults at you? Every day? Oh, well, that’s it. Better hand Keeley my resignation.”

Jamie laughed, shoving her off him before spotting and leading them to a bench. Richmond on a Saturday morning was bustling with people, but it was a peaceful kind of frenzy. The kind you could watch and enjoy.

“Admit it,” Jamie said, sitting down, “You had fun.”

Y/n sighed, pulling her tea to her lips. No such thing would be admitted.

“Why are you even still doing this?” She asked, looking out into the park where a group of kids were kicking around a football, “Zava’s gone. You’re back to being number one. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Jamie ran his fingers over his chin, she wasn’t wrong. Zava had made his unannounced exit two weeks prior. The whole reason Roy had offered to train him was to get him back to being the best. He may not have earned it, but the title had been bestowed back to Jamie. Mission accomplished.

“Think it’s more than that,” he answered, “More than Zava. I think…I know I can be better. And I wanna get there. See what I can do.”

Y/n nodded in reply, that was something she could understand. How many times had she pushed herself in school? At work? Not to beat anyone, but to know she had done her absolute best?

“Maybe it’ll pay off in Amsterdam,” she commented before taking a sip of tea. The exhibition match was just one week away.

“Ah,” Jamie smiled, “You excited?”

Y/n tilted her head from side to side in a shrug, “I guess. I’ve never been.”

Jamie’s face transformed in a split second, from content to near disgusted.

Y/n leant back, “What?”

“You’ve never been to Amsterdam?” Jamie was darn near incredulous at the mere notion.

“No,” Y/n replied, her voice jumping an octave under his judgement.

Jamie scoffed and turned away from her. “How the fuck do you live here this long and not go to Amsterdam?”

“And yet somehow, I still walk the earth,” Y/n chuckled at how bothered he was, “I’m guessing you’ve been.”

Jamie’s lips popped out very duckface-ish. “‘Course I have. Practically a fuckin’ tour guide.”

“Alright,” Y/n said, “Gimme your recommendations.”

Settling back against the bench as if he meant to stay a proper while, Jamie ran through his index. He picked through the pleasant memories, stag parties and one emergency diverted flight that ended in a particularly rowdy five star hotel evening. None of those amounted to anything stacked up against one trip taken much earlier in life.

“Gotta go to the Anne Frank house,” he began to list off ideas, “It’s super sad, but you gotta do it. There’s a really good place nearby to get stroopwafel, gotta go there. Eh, a boat ride down the canal. The tour guides driving ‘em give you all these fun facts about the architecture and the history and stuff.”

Y/n listened, it was the first time she’d seen Jamie properly excited about something. He was passionate on the field, but this was a childlike joy.

“You do remember there’s a match, right?” she laughed, “I’m only gonna end up having, like, one night.

“Then fuckin’ pack it in,” Jamie shrugged and gestured ahead of them like the country was laid out before them, “It’s Amsterdam.”

Y/n raised her cup to take a sip, “How do you know so much? You’ve really been that many times?”

“My mum took me when I were about 16,” Jamie answered, “Took me to all the historical sights and stuff. Guess it all just stuck.”

“Hm,” Y/n nodded, “What about your dad?”

What prompted her to ask, Y/n couldn’t know. She’d noticed that Jamie’s mother came up in conversation sometimes, but his father never did. Her subconscious curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Jamie felt his chest tighten at the mention of his dad. Y/n couldn’t have known anything about their relationship, he knew this. He just wasn’t sure how to reply when it was a subject he didn’t want to pick up. At all.

“Not really a thing,” he chose the safest answer, “He took me before me mum, but…wasn’t nearly as fun.”

Y/n watched his expression shift, how his eyes went from watching his fingers slide over his paper cup to the air in front of them. How Jamie was always fidgeting, but was now doing it with purpose. Worse, she recognized something about all of it.

“I’m sorry,” she backtracked, “That was way too personal, I shouldn’t have-“

“No, it’s-“ Jamie quickly held up a hand. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel bad for her innocence. “It’s fine. He’s just a,” Jamie shook his head, “Fuckin’ asshole.”

Y/n gazed down at her tea, sensing there was more that he wanted to say. Looking away not only saved her dignity, but it allowed him some quasi-privacy to say it.

“What about your folks?” Jamie finally looked back at Y/n, nudging her elbow a little.

That was worse, Y/n decided. Far worse.

“Uh,” she stalled, there was no choice but to answer, “We don’t really talk, to be honest.”

“Why not?” Jamie didn’t hesitate to ask.

Y/n inhaled deeply, blowing the air out with puffed cheeks. It was a piece of her history that she’d left in America, sending it into silent submission the second she stepped foot in London.

“We just…” Y/n shrugged, “Don’t have a relationship. Never have.”

Jamie’s brows dropped in confusion, “What’re you, like, adopted or somethin’?”

“Nope,” Y/n’s lips popped around the syllable, “They’ve just…never had any interest in their kids. Me and my sister, we kind of raised ourselves.”

“Fuck,” Jamie muttered, realizing he had definitely dug too deep. It was too late to back out though, their secrets were spilling themselves out. Better to lean into it than try and patch the all too massive leaks.

Y/n bitterly chuckled over her tea cup, “Yeah.”

Jamie absorbed what she said, leaning on his knees now. It was like he had to take a defensive position up a past that was nowhere near, yet all around him. If Y/n was going to be honest, the least he could do was match it.

“My dad and I,” he started, picking at a loose corner of the cardboard around his cup, “We kinda got in a fight. Earlier this year.”

Y/n turned to face Jamie, thinking he meant an entirely normal type of argument.

“Came back to the locker room after we lost a match,” he continued the story, “Talked a bunch of shit. Got ugly and…” Jamie hesitated, his fist feeling the phantom pain of the confrontation, “Yeah…”

Y/n’s lips parted in gentle shock, he didn’t need to finish for the meaning to come across.

Jamie could feel her eyes resting on him and found the strength to meet them. The tight smile across his face didn’t match the story, but it felt necessary. He sat back, hating the silence they were wading in.

“My parents never yelled. Not because me and my sister were perfect angels or anything, but…they just didn’t care enough to get that emotional,” Y/n admitted before she could even realize the vulnerability in which she said it with, “I mean, there was nothing we could do to even get them to pay attention to us. No recitals, no science fairs, no achievements…nothing. So long as they kept a roof over our heads and kept us breathing, they felt they were doing enough of a job.”

Jamie scoffed, bitter for both of them. “Me dad couldn’t be bothered to show up to any matches. Not when I were a kid.”

“What about when you went pro?” Y/n asked.

“Only in Manchester,” Jamie answered, “Screamin’ at me on and off the pitch that I were doin’ it wrong.”

Y/n traced the curve of Jamie’s jaw with her eyes, watching it clench. He made sense. For the first time since they’d met, he made total sense. You couldn’t go through a childhood like his and not come out with something to prove.

Their conversation became an exchange. One would share and, to make the other feel not so vulnerable, the other would chime in. “Once me and my sister could cook for ourselves, get jobs,” Y/n countered Jamie’s revelation, “My parents were even more done. It’s the main reason I came to England. To get away from them.”

Jamie was fully engaged now, his body turned to face Y/n as she matched his honesty. He knew all about running away.

“I worked so hard in school to get As, extracurricular stuff, anything I could,” Y/n gestured to the air with her cup, “So I could get out.”

“Yeah,” Jamie interjected, his memory sliding back to mornings before dawn spent on the pitch near his childhood home. He’d been just as relentless then as he was now. “Can’t tell you how many fuckin’ hours I spent just…tryin’ to get good. Tryin’ to do something he couldn’t touch.”

Whatever tolerance Y/n and Jamie had start with had long since morphed to a sort of comfortable acquaintanceship. It felt like, without ever moving from their bench, they had made some grand leap into kinship. They were both members of a club neither of them had asked to be in. With their shit spilled out on the ground before them, there was so very little left for them to hide.

“Y’know they’ve never visited me?” Y/n said softly, catching the shock on Jamie’s face out the corner of her eye, “Not once. I’ve been here since I was eighteen…not even for my graduation.”

Jamie watched with sadness as Y/n tried to hide hers. Once they found one another, it felt like there was nothing else to do but…laugh. It was one of those, this is our life laughs. Here we are, our families don’t love us, and it’s not right but here we are. Gentle and faded, but still unbelieving.

“Think we did pretty good,” Jamie said, “Yeah?”

Y/n’s smile came back, she’d allowed Jamie to cross so many of her self-drawn lines and she’d believed it had simply been out of convenience. No, there was something about him she’d only ever recognized in herself. Resilience. “Resentment’s a tremendous motivator, isn’t it?”

Jamie smirked at Y/n, wondering how he’d gravitated towards her knowing just the best, only to find out they had the worst in common. They were both a little broken, and it certainly felt better to be broken with someone else than by himself.

“I’ll drink to that,” he smiled, the two of their paper cups knocking into one another.

————————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @mentalistfan

[ravencincaide]

Disobedient soulmate 

Summary:  Why comply with executives' demands if you were anyway going to die anyway At least you were not going to go down easy and quiet like all those other scared rabbits. No, you were not going to make this easy on him, especially if Chuuya was your soulmate.

Pairing: Fem reader x Chuuya Nakahara 

Part 2 of: Not My Soulmate: This is a continuation of ‘Not My Soulmate’ au. You can read this as a standalone as well, I think? 

Warnings: Cursing, abduction, humour,  Anyways hope you get as much a laugh from this as I did!   ~ Enjoy

Your mama always told you two rules; one, if you like a man then never hit him where the sun doesn’t shine. And two, if you do hit a man in the forbidden place then never ever stick around long enough for him to recover.  You had just broken both rules. “ Put me down” You screamed as loudly as you could- your only real power against stuffing, suffocating red that turned your body heavy and imobile on the executives shoulder. Indeed no matter how much you tried to move it, to trash and kick the ginger, you were no better than a sack of potatoes.

Although that did not make you powerless; after all you could still be an annoyance. A loud obnoxious annoyance right in his ear. If you were lucky, then it would be sufficient to make the ginger reconsider his very real actions of abducting you, “ I said put me the fuck down you- you–you under developed carrot!” “ Oj is that the best fuckin insult you got, girl? You curse like a toddler” Chuuya’s voice dripped in sarcasm seemingly unbothered by your insulting screeches. You didn’t need to look at his face to know he had rolled his eyes at you. You heard him take a deep drag of the cigarette between his lips, breathe the smoke out and away from your face, before he broke the silence again “ And you hit like one too” You gaped, your mouth opened and closed like a fish. You were unsure which part was more insulting; his words, his comparison, or the cocky grin which played on the edge of his lips. The way he walked without missing a step, smoked without a bother while he carried your body draped over one of his shoulders as though you weighed nothing. What was up with that anyway? You broke out of your trail of thoughts, your expression darkened as his hand tightened on your lower back a little bit more, purposefully doing the very opposite of your demands. Jerk. “ Set me down this instant and I’ll give you a goddamned repeat of earlier. Wanna see you call me a toddler when you’re doubled over in pain you insolent little– hey!” You yelped loudly as Chuuya suddenly took a harsh right and kicked open the door to a run down- almost abandoned looking motel in the middle of the industrial district of Yokohama. Around you were industries and workshops; factors and metal smiths. Still somehow he found some form of living arrangements amidst all those almost-identical looking metal and stone constructions. 

Then with one fluid motion Chuuya tossed you onto the only piece of furniture in the forsaken, dirty place; the bed. Your body made painful contact with the worn down thing, bringing up a huge cloud of dust in the process. In an instant you sat up, completely forgetting about being able to move again and your earlier threats. “ What the hell is your issue and who the fuck do you think you are?!” “ Shut up for a second” His tone had changed completely. Like night and day, from flirty and sarcastic to this serious almost murderous thing. Chuuya’s blue orbs, which were surrounded by the menacing red were narrowed, his tone of voice dead serious as he addressed you. The way he looked at you, the way he acted, it instilled fear in you. It seemed he was done with your bullshit and in that moment you understood why he was a mafia executive. Port mafia executive no other. “ If you wanna live then pipe the fuck down, stay put and don’ open the goddamn door for anyone, hear me?” You blinked then gasped as he took a step towards you in warning. “ Did you hear me?” Chuuya repeated each word slowly, threateningly. Until all you could do was slowly nod your affirmation. “ Good. I’ll be back soon mm‘yeah” he then turned on his heel and walked backwards towards the door. He paused in the doorway, hand on the flimsy piece of half broken wood that was intended to keep you inside this tiny dusty space one would barely call ‘a motel room’. Chuuya threw another warning look over his shoulder “ Oj don even think about running away yeah- I’ll fuckin know if you try anything- and there’ll be a punishment if you do. So be a good thing and just fuckin stay ‘ere.” Then he shut the door, plunging you into unfamiliar darkness. You sat still for a moment, stared at the dust, dirt and grime that surrounded you. Felt each heavy breath, felt the age-old filth enter your body with each inhale. You imagine it settled in your lungs with a shudder. You bit your lip, desperate to take as few breaths as possible as you listened for his movements outside. At first silence, but then you heard his footsteps retreating further and further away in the same direction from which you two had come from. Almost impatiently, you waited until they were gone. Waited until you were certain he would be out of sight. In the meantime, you listened for any other sounds around you. But none seemed threatening. You heard rats scurry somewhere beneath the floorboards, swore you saw a roach scutter inches from your shoe. And just like that you were up and running out of the front door. Consequences be damned along with his threats; no you intended to outrun him. And what better way to survive than to escape from right under an executives nose. - when safe alert the authorities.

The news warning rang through your mind, guided you. It told you exactly what it was you needed to do. First, you needed to find a phone. 

Author note: Since a precious someone has gone wayyy out of their way to make this a good and special birthday for me, the least I could do was stop teasing and actually publish this little thing. Hope you enjoy it! Like this? Check out Part 1 here, or see Raven's masterlist for more stuff to read!

[remember-digimon]

Next up is my favorite, Matt!

Wow what a cool guy.

So, Matt is usually described as a loner, Tai's rival, and the Angsty Cool Guy. None of these actually describe who he is, so let's dive into that.

1. Loner. Matt isn't a loner, he's lonely. Big difference. He keeps others at a very long arm's length as a self-preservation mechanism; due to his parents' divorce basically breaking his little heart at a really young age. He learned then that other people could hurt him by leaving, and decided from then on he wouldn't give them the opportunity to hurt him. His loneliness is so deeply rooted that it's interpreted by others as aloofness, while he is only 11 years old. Like damn wtf

2. Tai's rival. Outside of the Cherrymon incident, which was just good ol' manipulation to get the two most powerful Digimon in the group to fight, Matt was really only considered Tai's rival in early promotional stuff that had a little bio for each character. Matt likely gets interpreted as Tai's rival because they fight a lot, but it's not that simple. Matt doesn't want to compete with Tai, he doesn't want to be the leader. He butts heads with Tai because they're basically opposites. Matt is acutely aware of the group's feelings and needs, while Tai remains laser-focused on the goal at hand. This dynamic isn't like Ash vs Gary, where they're actively competing with each other. Matt gets frustrated with Tai very easily, and he feels things so intensely that he can't really help but blow up.

3. Cool Guy. Let's get one thing straight, this kid right here is not cool. This was more of a thing in the dub iirc, but regardless, his attitude is just a cover to keep people from getting too close. Hell, it takes Gabumon a few episodes longer than the other Digimon to really get close to Matt; before that point, Matt certainly isn't a total dick to Gabumon, but he isn't fully trusting yet either.

Matt's relationship with TK is an interesting one. He feels like it's his sole purpose to protect TK, not just from monsters but from anything unpleasant in life. All of the familial love and affection he gets comes from TK so it's understandable why he would feel this way.

One complaint I often hear about Matt is that his breakdown in the Dark Masters arc when TK gets kidnapped by Puppetmon is way overblown, that he wouldn't normally react that way. He left TK at the amusement park during Weregarurumon's Diner, and when he couldn't immediately leave he didn't break down like that.

The difference in these situations is obvious if you pay close attention. First of all, from the time the kids get up on the day Bakemon raid Odaiba to when they're back at the digital world and split up after talking to Homeostasis, is all one day. It feels much longer because of how many episodes that is, but they're all on at least 24 hours without sleep or taking a break. Also, keep in mind that Matt woke up earlier than the others, before sunrise, as his dad got him and Gabumon to the warehouse to keep them from getting abducted by the Bakemon.

Second, in that span of time the kids have all realized what they're up against. They've lost Wizardmon, Chuumon, Piximon, and Whamon in quick succession, the last three to the Dark Masters. Learning that his little brother has now been captured by one of these Dark Masters would lead Matt to fearing the worst.

Then there's the big fight he had with Tai just prior to the breakdown. He accused Tai of being obsessed with fighting and ignoring the others' grief at the loss of their Digimon friends. By the time he and TK are in the tree with their Digimon, he's already showing signs of wanting to break away from the group, saying that they don't need the others.

Matt also feels that his growth is stagnant compared to the others; this is untrue, as Gabumon would not be able to digivolve to higher levels if Matt wasn't growing and changing. But his self-image is so damaged that he always sees the negative aspects of his personality when comparing himself to his peers.

And of course we have to talk about the Dark Cave. Because of how the Digital World operates, Matt's depression materializes and manifests as a cave that he can't escape until he comes to terms with it. Obviously this quick recovery from a depression spiral is not based in reality, but this is an episodic kid's show so I'm surprised we even got this much.

Matt's experience in the cave is one that a lot of people who have dealt with depression and loneliness can relate to. He says he wants to be alone, but Gabumon calls him out on that and makes him realize that isn't what he wants, actually. He wants to be more open with people, he's just under the impression that he's not really important, not wanted, so it's better off to just not even try. His relationship with his mother is highly strained because of the divorce, and because he has an overwhelming sense of loyalty he probably feels he has to be cold to her for his father's sake.

As for his father, Hiroaki is at work more often than not. Every time we see Hiroaki and Matt interact, Hiroaki is either brisk and business-like or even annoyed; when Matt meets up with him at the TV station, Hiroaki is angry that he didn't stay hidden. Obviously this is out of concern for his son, but still. A moment later, when TK shows up, suddenly Hiroaki is much softer in speaking. So I imagine that this dynamic would also have an impact on Matt's mental health; his dad is almost always at work, and when we do see him with his dad, Hiroaki is a bit tough with him.

But it isn't all sad times and angst with Matt. He loves music, later forming a popular band in middle school and high school. Once he realizes that he can open up to people, and they won't intentionally hurt him, he's able to create real, lasting relationships that aren't based on the cold exterior he uses to protect himself. It's clear that he needed to learn to let others in, and once he did learn that, he becomes much happier and more willing to open up and let those walls down. Even if it's just a little bit.

[revehae]

enchant me

pairing ↠ fairy!yeri x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon touching, oral, lowkey morally ambiguous, fairy yeri × human reader

summary ↠ when your co-worker tells you that she knows a place where fairies are being sold, you're inclined to believe it's bullshit. that is, until you see them for yourself, and wind up taking yeri home. but having a new roommate is not without its fair share of troubles.

wc ↠ 4.0k

a/n ↠ part 3/5 of the legend has it series!

don't like it, don't read.

buy a pet fairy, your co-worker said. it’ll be fun, your co-worker said.

it had never been your plan, you doubted the existence of the supernatural and thought she’d been pulling your leg until you saw the incarcerated set of fairies gathered in the back of the store for yourself, and you somehow let her convince you to poke around.

your co-worker had given you the location of the place where the fairies would be sold. you were skeptical, for obvious reasons. it didn’t help that the store itself was very lowkey, not publicizing their business of abducted fairies. matter of fact, you had to have the right contacts to even know it existed. on the outside, it was a regular pet shop, though that was only a front for the real moneymaker.

i’m only poking around, you told yourself, monitoring the several caged fairies. your arms were crossed. you could feel the owner’s eyes fixed to your back. he watched his customers very attentively, which was valid. it wasn’t general knowledge that fairies existed and this was a very illegal side business.

cloaking your incredulity with indifference, you curiously strolled around with a poker face, willing yourself not to gawk as you passed by fairy after fairy. they looked a bit different than you expected. had they not had those giant wings attached to their backsides, you would have thought they were human.

these conditions, however, certainly weren’t human. caged like animals and who was to be sure whether they ate or not. you almost felt bad. most of them looked bored and dejected.

there was one that caught your eye, more striking than all of the others. though not of them looked exactly thrilled to be captured, she was the most obvious and tenacious, throwing herself against the metal cage as if that would get it to break. you noticed a number of cuts and bruises on her skin, though it wasn’t that hard of a guess to make that they were self-inflicted.

that day, though you constantly reminded yourself that you were only present to poke around, you came home with a pet fairy.

that was roughly two months ago. now, you and yeri, as she’d begrudgingly told you her name was, were a bit more acquainted with each other.

towards the beginning of your journey together, yeri was hell-bent on hating you, in spite of the fact that you were the one to free her from that godforsaken place. you didn’t appreciate how ungrateful she was, always bristling in annoyance at her impudence, but you didn’t give up on earning her favor.

you were a quick learner and yeri was a liker of many things. her room that you’d appointed her was very indicative of her character, filled to the brim with things she loved. her stubbornness didn’t come to an abrupt end there, but she slowly relented.

it took months of spoiling and princess treatment before you could be certain that yeri was fond of you. though when you did know, it was only because it was undeniable. it would be more apt to say that she was obsessed with you. the second you got home from work, she was voluntarily slipping your coat off of your shoulders to hang on the rack and gushing about her day and how much she missed you, which you didn’t mind. you didn’t have a lot of things to say when she asked how your days went, much less a lot of new things. it was mundane work and every day bled into each other.

fairies were not cheap, you learned, and for good reason. you figured they were hard enough to capture, especially stubborn ones like yours. it made sense to yeri that you had a good-paying job and a large house, where it was difficult for her to become board. whatever she wanted, it was at her fingertips. she did a lot of online shopping while you were away and called random stores mostly for fun.

watching her come to you, fluttering down the stairs, was the highlight of your days sometimes. never did you imagine you would find yourself attached to a fairy of all things, especially when you hardly knew they existed, but life wasn’t without its fair share of surprises.

every month, yeri’s bedroom seemed a lot more crowded. it was neat, though only because you had ample maids. given their contracts, you weren’t worried about them snitching to anyone about your supernatural affairs because you knew nobody would risk your kind of money to tattle.

hands resting at your hips, you asked skeptically, “do you really need all of this stuff?”

“yes,” yeri said in a heartbeat. she was resting on her bed, which was much more like a hammock, but if she liked it, you loved it. “i need all of this stuff.”

you rolled your eyes at her repetition. “okay, echo,” you droned. “i just think stuff like a corner of hello kitty plushies is a little unnecessary.”

yeri retorted, “i think your problem is that you don’t have enough stuff. you know, where i’m from, rich fairies had everything in the forest. you have all the money in the world and not a spec of color on your bedroom walls.”

that was true. if something wasn’t essential to your lifestyle, then you most likely weren’t going to buy it, although you had your reasons. “i don’t have time for extra stuff anyways,” you replied, sighing. “even if i bought cool things i liked, i wouldn’t have time to indulge myself.”

yeri had her chin supported by her palms, throwing you a look that was an astounding blend of boredom and cuteness. “then why buy a big house filled with things you don’t have to use? like a pool and a theater?”

“to attract, my love. bees flock to only the prettiest of flowers,” you said, crossing your arms. “speaking of which, i need you to stay in your room and be very quiet tonight. i’m having a guest over.”

“a guest?”

“yes. a guest,” you said. “so please, for the love of god, be on your best behavior.”

“i’m not a kid. i know how to conduct myself,” yeri huffed irritably. 

you took her word for it, and true to her word, yeri conducted herself very skillfully that evening. but when she heard the ungodly noises stretching from your bedroom that evening, she was of half a mind to storm in there and tear whatever girl you were with to shreds. 

that was when she realized, for the first time, that she was obsessed with you.

the second time was only two weeks later. 

“please,” yeri begged, eyes twinkling in desperation. 

you shook your head. “no.”

yeri’s bottom lip was jutted out, little stars glimmering in her eyes as she donned her sweetest tone and begged for the umpteenth time, “please? i will never ask you for anything ever again.” that’s a lie, she thought, and you were probably thinking it too, but she lived in the moment. 

she was trying very desperately to convince you to take a day off, mainly so that you could lounge around your house and actually wallow in the amenities that you’d paid for. the indoor pool, namely, though you hadn’t really questioned why. 

you heaved a breath. “yeri, i hope you understand that i have to go to work so that i can overindulge all of your costly interests. i can’t just call out whenever i want.”

yeri hummed. “what if you were sick?”

“i’m not sick.”

“yes, you are,” yeri chirped, giggling with sheer mischief.

it was no secret what she was implying and you hated that you were actually considering lying to your boss, but at last, yeri was your only vice. “fine,” you relented. “i’m sick.”

the lie was definitely worth the gigantic smile on yeri’s face as she watched you make a beeline for your phone.

half an hour later, you were meeting yeri at the indoor pool, clad in a bikini you initially doubted that you even had. you couldn’t even remember the last time that you’d worn one, though to be fair, it had most definitely been a while. you weren’t upset or annoyed that yeri had convinced you to take a day off, even with as much of a workaholic as you were, because it was a much needed break.

there were glass windows everywhere and a tall roof, but yeri wasn’t paying any mind to none of that. little did you know, for a good minute, her gaze was locked on your figure. she had seen your riches. what she had not seen, up until this very moment, was your exposed body.

she couldn’t get enough of your legs. for the most part, you generally wore slacks or knee-length skirts, though when you weren’t working you typically wore sweats. yeri had a nice view of your ass for a split second, and when you turned, an even better view of your breasts sitting nicely in your bikini top.

before you could notice her lewd stare, yeri dived into the pool, sporting a bikini of her own. it was pink, which you quickly learned was her favorite color.

“bet you didn’t know that fairies have different elements,” yeri said when her head popped back up. “i’m a water sprite.”

preferring to step down the stairs into the water, you crawled down the little steps. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she repeated. “do you wanna see something cool?”

there was a lull of silence while you hesitated. you never knew what to expect with yeri, but judging from the mischievous little twinkle in her eyes, it was nothing good. “i’m not sure if i do,” you trailed.

“please?”

realizing she would most definitely beg you until you agreed, you blew out a breath and relented, “fine.”

what you weren’t prepared for, however, was for a giant ball of water to knock you square in the chest. yeri giggled, as if there was something funny, while you spat out the water in your mouth and contemplated your entire existence.

“ha. ha,” you grumbled dryly, wringing out your hair.

your face was bristling with irritation and your whole body was glistening with droplets of water, and, gawking at you while you fetched a towel, yeri realized for the second time that her thoughts of you were all-consuming.

and it didn’t stop there. day after day, week after week, you drove yeri past the threshold of insanity. it was ironic that she went from loathing you with her utter being to dreaming of your hands on her body in her sleep, but there was no undoing the temptation.

to make matters worse, you didn’t seem to want her at all. obviously, you liked yeri and all, eating meals together instead of having them alone in your study like you used to and taking more days off, but you treated her as if she was merely a pet that you had to take care of.

and it was maddening. she couldn’t stand feeling like the pining was so terribly one-sided. none of her efforts to seduce you were fruitful. not even her walking around in her underwear, and given the simmering season (never mind your great air conditioning) you somewhat understood why she roamed the halls half-naked. 

she hated when you told her to stay put because you had a guest coming over. she hated when she had to hear the sound of another girl’s ecstatic moans blaring from down the hallway, and it was only fitting that she used your credit card to buy noise-canceling headphones. she hated that she had to touch herself while some undeserving woman got to touch you.

worst of all, she loathed being made feel like an animal, no matter how primal her needs were. humans, yeri chided, shaking her head with folded arms. so, so stupid.

but yeri was not yeri without a game plan. an unethical one, but that only served her character. you were going to see her for what she was - not the creature she was marketed as. that she was certain of.

a couple of nights later, you came home exhausted, which yeri wholeheartedly expected. she was more than familiarized with your schedules and you were never not spent after long days of negotiating with clients. you never thought she understood your sophisticated language when you talked about your job, but it had been said that she was full of surprises.

on more taxing days, you preferred skipping long dinners and going to bed as soon as possible. yeri was questionably understanding, not begging for another five minutes with you like you’d come to expect, but you were far too tired to linger on it and went upstairs to take a shower.

yeri waited an hour or an half before she came up to your room. if you followed your typical routine, then you surely should have been out like a light. as expected, you were. yeri quiet pushed open your door, careful not to wake you, and watched out for signs of disturbance in case you were to stir.

but you didn’t. it was almost as if you were dead, though yeri knew from your heaving chest and ever so gentle snores that you were far from.

whatever spontaneous little plan yeri had in store for you slipped from her thoughts the second she pulled back your comforter and revealed your sleeping body to her gaze. you were in a flimsy nightgown that looked far too good on you and it made her brain short-circuit. it was unfair that other people, people that weren’t her, got to see what was underneath.

bewitched, her hand dropped to your leg, touching it like she had tirelessly longed to for so many months. she wasn’t asking for much, she thought. she just wanted you to see her the same way that she saw you.

your legs were warm. yeri was no longer paying attention to your resting face, completely engrossed with the rest of your body. your legs were soft, too. she could smell the lotion you’d lathered over your skin before bed and even the smell of you was inviting.

yeri’s hand inched further up your legs, desperate to pull back all of the metaphorical layers and see what was underneath - or in between. her fingers wiggled around your thighs, her heartbeat quickening the closer she got between the pair. the gap was closing almost in slow motion, her lips open to unrestrain her ragged breathing.

then, she felt your fingers tighten around her wrist and you grumbled, “what do you think you’re doing?”

yeri was vexed. so close, she grimaced. and yet she was so far away. she huffed, “what does it look like?”

“it looks like you’re touching me,” you said, in spite of the fact it was obviously a rhetorical question. not that you gave a damn. “notably without my consent.”

though someone would expect her to, yeri didn’t try to withdraw her hand, even though it was tightly locked between yours. “you don’t get to do this,” she mumbled. 

“excuse me?”

“you don’t get to act as if you’re the one hurt,” yeri added, finally snatching her arm away. “you don’t know how long i’ve waited for you to notice me, but instead, you just fuck all of these dumb whores that only want you because you’re rich!”

“yeri…,” you started. 

yeri interjected, tears running down her face as she angrily screamed, “don’t say my name now! they don’t deserve you. i’m the only one that sees you for more than your money, you know that? they don’t know you like i do - they don’t love you like i do!”

“yeri,” you called out again, snappier. “i’m not a mind reader. why wasn’t your first thought to just tell me this?”

yeri crossed her arms, stubborn. “i don’t know.”

“yeri, sit down.”

though she wanted to disobey, the look in your stare quickly discouraged her from doing so. she plopped on your mattress, lips jutted.

“if you wanted me, all you had to do was say that,” you told her, grabbing her hands. 

yeri’s eyes twinkled. “does that mean you want me too?”

you answered her with a kiss, pressing your lips flush against hers. yeri didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, heart fluttering. warmth filled her chest and wings flittered in her gut.

when you pulled back, it was only to croon in her ear, “would you rather me tell you or show you?”

“show me,” yeri whispered.

you grinned. nevermind that you’d barely slept. you always had more than enough energy for yeri.

in a matter of seconds, you somehow mustered the energy to throw yeri’s legs open, just after slipping her panties off her legs. she was full of attitude, but when you went to spread her apart, you almost couldn’t fathom her being so pliant.

when you noticed that she was already significantly wet, you fought a chuckle. there was no way in hell she got this aroused merely from touching your legs. little did you know, even you getting a little too close to her could do more ungodly things to her body than she’d rather admit. it was embarrassing.

especially when now, with your tongue flitting around her clit, was the very first time that you had ever paid her any mind. yeri was so used to being ignored by you. it was her biggest dream for you to see her in the same context that she saw you, and her biggest fear for you not to. not that she had to worry about that anymore, but that was exactly what had her head spinning in disbelief.

rather than toss her underwear into oblivion, you kept her panties balled in your fists, noting that they were baby pink. fitting, you thought in amusement.

yeri could’ve moaned at the sight of you with her panties in your inescapable palms and your head craned between her legs. it was likely that she did. you wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between all the other contented sounds escaping her mouth as her thighs quivered, sensitive.

you, on the other hand, were amazed by her sensitivity. all it took was lapping at her clit and it was as if her whole body was coming to life, sparks flying every which way. she was already so responsive, arching into the air. she refused to keep her body still though it was obvious it was beyond her control, unable to decide whether or not she wanted to lean in for more or shy away in vulnerability.

yeri called out your name, whimpering out a shaky, “fuck.”

the sound of her labored breaths and blissful sounds had arousal gathering between your own legs, but with the treasure presented squarely before you, you weren’t inclined to react. all it did was make you even more relentless with your tongue, sucking at her bundle of nerves.

while you tongued her clit, you drove two fingers inside of her hole, feeling her pussy no longer throb around nothing as its grip tightened at your digits. yeri whined, thinking it was too much stimulation, not that she would ever admit it.

holy fucking shit, this feels so good. goddamn, yeri thought, her whole mind going numb. what she couldn’t say in between her desperate sounds was jumbled around in her brain.

she understood why there were always loud, high-pitched cries coming from this room at night. yeri wasn’t stupid, she understood that your so-called guests were random hookups she didn’t care to know how you’d met, but she didn’t realize you were this mind-blowing at sex. she should’ve known.

to feel one of your hands clamping her thigh while you went down on her was something she used to only be able to dream of. and she had dreamed of it, no less, but the combined skill of your tongue and fingers exceeded the threshold of her expectations. you were far too good for her to ever ever think of returning to a life without this kind of pleasure.

whether you liked it or not, she was a permanent stain on your life now. you weren’t going to toss her away when you were done and had gotten what you wanted like you did every other woman. if she had to do anything and everything to grab your attention, it would just have to be that way.

little did she know, you had always wanted to have a taste of her. you just didn’t want her to feel obligated to have sex with you strictly because you took her in. obviously, she had never been alone in her feelings, you just weren’t aware that they were genuinely reciprocated.

you changed her life for the better. you took her from a human-sized cage to a mansion filled with every amenity she could’ve ever wanted, spoiling her rotten. and you knew that she was grateful, but all you expected for your generosity was appreciation, not favors.

yeri had made it clear that her affections for you went deeper than that though. she obviously appreciated your wealth and her wings fluttered in thrill whenever you surprised her with a new item, much like they did now, but there was something about you that piqued her curiosity. any other affluent person could have bought her, those were the only that could afford fairies at the ridiculous but understandable prices they were being sold at, but they could have been a jerk.

not you. you always made sure that she was taken care of and had everything she needed. you didn’t use her for entertainment like every other fairy feared they would be. you didn’t make her feel like a pet.

“don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” yeri chanted, sensing her orgasm sneaking up on her.

the pressure building in the pit of her stomach increased tenfold. somehow, you became even more merciless, eating her out like you wanted to break was left of her. and in a way, there was some truth. whatever you wanted to do to her, yeri was inclined to allow you.

her eyes rolled to the back of her head, so much heat tensing in her thighs. whatever amount of energy you had yeri returned back to you, vigorously rocking her hips into your mouth while her hands latched onto your hair. she had every intention of getting off and you were going to bring her there.

“gonna cum,” yeri announced, gripping the sheets for purchase. “gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum.”

you said nothing, only pulling out all the stops to finish her. you badly wanted to make her orgasm, watch her release on your tongue like it was the last time. every bone in your body ached for this moment.

with a couple more passings of your tongue over her clit, yeri’s orgasm knocked the wind out of her whole being. she couldn’t breathe for at least a whole minute, her body moving at its own accord, his thrusting angrily into her mouth as the rest of her convulsed and a scream ripped from her throat. it was the most aggressive orgasm you had ever seen and you were proud to say that you were the root.

yeri arched off the bed and cried out, tears flooding her eyes, until she finally went limp. her eyes were winced closed, lips open, struggling to seek breath.

“holy fuck,” yeri exhaled. “holy shit. holy fuck.”

you nearly snickered, but remembered why this was happening in the first place. “next time you have a problem, let’s just address it, please,” you said levelly, standing to your flat toes. “i prefer solving things over fussing over them.”

considering your definition of solving things, yeri was in no place to contend. “yeah. let’s do that.”

now you laughed. you had no idea what you were going to do with her.

[ellemfaoh]

Pinball, Hair, and Detention Pt. 4 | Vance Hopper x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (here)

Word Count: 6.7k

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Rivalry, Angst, Fluff

Content Warnings: Kidnapping, Swearing, Female Reader Implied/Mentioned, Descriptors of character deaths, Blood, Beatings

Summary: Reader and Vance have some sort of ongoing rivalry. You accidentally spilled your drink on his hair and he in turn gave you a “fresh cut.” You one day get detention together due to fighting. On the walk home one day— where you both live merely a block away, he barely misses your abduction and watches as you helplessly get carried away in a black van.

A/N: We finally hit the climax of the story!!!! AND THE END!!!! Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed <3

——————————————

You heard the click and hum of the basement lights flick on, bleary and groggy eyes forcing themselves open as you sat up. What did he want with you this time? You turned and looked over at the window. Sunset. What day was it again? Was it meal time? As the door opened, you sighed and turned over. You didn’t want to look at him right now. That cable you found crammed under the wall should be used for something. Could you trip him? Keep him down long enough to get out? You didn’t know.

“Hey kid, what’s your name?”

You turned and looked over at him, an annoyed expression on your face. “I bet there are missing posters posted around town already. If you wanna know so bad, go outside.”

His silhouette was unclear, a foggy orange light behind him keeping you from seeing him entirely. You could make out the horns on his head though. The Grabber kept standing there, an annoyed chuckle coming from him. He must’ve been getting itchy for the kill, but like Billy said; he wanted to play a game.

“I must admit, you’re way more feisty than the last two. They just lied through their teeth.” Walking forward, his mask wore a deep frown. You knew he was probably still annoyed at you for that stunt you pulled—but man that was creepy. “Less of a naughty girl after that lesson earlier, huh?”

Silence loomed over you both, a staring match seeming to take place as he threw a newspaper at the ground before you. “I would’ve appreciated an answer though.” He gave a slight chuckle and said, “I almost considered letting you go, too.” as he left.

You quickly crawled over to the paper on the floor and held it in your hands, a big print of your school yearbook picture accompanied by Billy and Griffin’s on the front page labeled ‘MISSING.’ All you could do was let the tears silently fall from your eyes, hugging the newspaper to yourself as if it was the last lifeline you had to get out of this place. You looked around the room and got up, placing the newspaper face up by the phone, getting up to walk over to where you kept the cable stored. You’d find a way out, whether you had to kill him before he got you or if you had to painstakingly dig yourself out.

As you walked over to the toilet in the weird hallway, you looked at the rugs. You couldn’t really do anything with these. Maybe stand higher on them and try to get yourself up to the window. You pondered for a second, then another. You could maybe try knocking the man out too. The toilet tank lid could probably do some serious damage. It was a little heavy though…

“Fuck this!” You shouted, kicking at the rugs and squatting, holding your head in your hands. You were probably going crazy very slowly. “Griffin, Paperboy, either of you, help me out.” You murmured, rocking slowly on the balls of your feet.

——————

Vance was panting heavily, dismounting off the bike and hiding it in a bush nearby before running the rest of the way down the block to the house the man parked at. He never thought he’d be able to do this—it was all a hopeless dream to rescue you, right? Some weird fantasy where you forgive him for saving you from your hell and he feels better about himself?

“God, you’re getting soft Vance.” He said to himself, “you watched her get taken and the cops aren’t doing shit. You’re helping. You aren’t guilty.”

Jogging up the street, Vance made a mental note of the house number, even deciding to carve it into something on him. His shoe sole would have to do the trick. He’d come back later tomorrow, hoping and praying you’re still alive by tomorrow—or he’d stake out the place tonight, hiding amongst the bushes around the neighboring houses as he waited for the man to leave the house so he could get in and get you out. Maybe he’d even wait and get revenge for you all by murdering the sick bastard. For now, he just needed to give Bruce Yamada his bike and get some stuff.

Just as the blonde started making his exit to get the fuck out of there and enact his action plan, the front door of the house opened. It was more reflex than anything, but Vance dove into the nearest bush to hide, effectively scratching himself up a bit. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from making any noise—which was a bit hard since he had a few thorns stuck to him. As Vance looked through the leaves, he noticed something. Wait a minute, that’s not the fucking Grabber.

“Al, you really need to clean up your fucking cans man, they smell like shit!”

“Max quit complaining and just dump the trash, nobody is around sniffing them like they’re fuckin’ dasies!”

‘He’s living with someone?’ Vance asked himself, making as little movement as possible. ‘An accomplice? Family?’

As soon as Max left, Vance climbed out of the bush, brushed himself off, and left. How was he going to get into the house if another person was living there as well? He was going to need to do way more planning. Grabbing Bruce’s bike, Vance started pedaling towards his neighborhood—considering the three of them all lived within a block of each other. When he left, he didn’t seem to notice the curtain slightly lifted on the second floor.

——————————————

“So you’re telling me that you needed my bike to follow that guy and then found the house of (Y/N)’s kidnapper?” Bruce said, leaning against the wall of his garage with his arms crossed over his chests, looking at a scratched up and ragged Vance.

“I said I’d tell you, so I did.”

Bruce gave one more look at the blonde in front of him and sighed, body sagging forward as he seemed to relax ever so slightly. “I just don’t know what to make of it Vance. This is like some sort of shity cliché in a bad movie.”

Staring at Bruce as he talked, there were small things in his behavior that the boy noticed about the other. He seemed to be a little more pale than normal and more ragged. Bruce Yamada was usually pretty clean-cut, so seeing him like this was a bit of a shock—and funny.

“Well it’s not. Your best friend was kidnapped by a man named Albert with a sick fantasy involving murdering kids.”

Bruce seemed to flinch at his harsh words, looking up at Vance with a spark of anger behind his eyes as he grabbed at the collar of his shirt. “I know! You think I haven’t been stuck on this for the past week?! It’s been a week! She’s probably dead!” Bruce’s grip loosened. “And you were the last one to speak to her.” The two boys stood there as a tense silence hung over them in the dim garage.

“She’s not dead, I can tell.” Vance said, reassuring Bruce. “I’ll save her.”

His grip on Vance’s shirt collar loosened and his head hung as he obviously tried to hide his teary eyes. A small chuckle came from Bruce, which shocked Vance. “When did you get all soft for the girl you tormented?”

Vance stood there in silence. Shit. So it was obvious. Thinking for a moment, Vance looked away. Jeez, this is embarrassing. “I guess you could say I owe her a big apology.” There was a weird look exchanged between the two, a sort of unspoken silence as blue eyes met black.

“Hey, what the fuck is that look you’re giving me?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

——————————————

“Hey.”

You ignored him.

“Hey.”

Still ignored him.

“HEY!”

You sat up when you heard him walking closer, turning quickly to look at the frowny mask and visible angry and excited eyes. What was with him today? You looked out the window, greeted by the darkness of night. What day was this? Three? Seven? Thirteen?

“What do you want?”

He stared at you for a minute, a giggle coming from behind his mask. Raising an eyebrow at your kidnapper you wondered what kind of sick thoughts he was having as he had a sort of perverted laugh. He didn’t look to be visibly armed or anything so your swimming thoughts of death were kept at bay. When The Grabber let out a sort of cough you paid attention to him again. What had him in this kind of mood?

“Looks like one of your friends has a habit of not minding his own business.” The man said, throwing down some pictures of a boy crawling out of a bush, standing around, and then walking away.

The pictures were a bit blurry, but you could tell it was Vance. You pinched at your thigh to keep yourself from showing any sort of joy or hope. You knew the games this man was trying to play on you; he wanted to see your look of recognition, your look of the hope you’d get out of here soon.

The man’s face fell when you looked up with a confused and nonchalant look, shrugging as you tossed the pictures back down and said, “I don’t know this kid.”

He chuckled with an angry sort of lacing to it, squatting and picking one up, pointing at the boy in the picture. “Yes you do, it’s that kid you were walking with last week when I fucking grabbed you.”

So it’s been a week?

“No it isn’t. The hair is a similar color to his, sure—but it’s straighter and a tad darker. Also, that kid is dressed more like that paperboy you nabbed or those dickhead jocks.”

As you pointed out all the differences so casually, the man in front of you grew slightly more frustrated each time. You made for a good liar when the time came, and you could see that doubt was starting to crawl across his face.

“Then why was he in the bushes next to my house?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t even know you had bushes in front of your house until just now. Kids lose shit in bushes by accident all the time. If it really was blondie then he probably would’ve tried to break in immediately or rummage around your shit. Have you seen or heard anything about him? Cops say he’s one of the most reckless and dangerous kids around.”

Shit. Albert was losing. He couldn’t believe with full certainty that it really was that boy he spotted with you that day by his house. It didn’t make sense. Grabbing your cheeks quickly in one hand, he pulled your face close to his and you lost your balance as his eyes scanned yours for what you presumed was the truth. You stared back at him, an angry but scared look crossing your face. Could this old bastard just leave you alone?

He let you go and got up with an angry grunt, scooping the pictures up and walking away, not noticing the one you hid under your stomach when you fell forward after he grabbed your face. The basement door closed with a slam but no heavy click of a lock. He wanted to give you hope so you’d feel more inclined to try and sneak out and into the arms of whoever was outside his house earlier? Yeah right, you’d wait just a little longer to try and make your great escape.

Although…

——————

As Vance was getting some of his shit together; the shit being a bag filled with things he could use tonight and for the next little bit as he waited for an opportunity to try and get you, he felt a lingering sense of doubt. What if when he went to try and save you, you’re already dead? What if he ended up in your position next? What if he died? He shook off those thoughts, masking them with his tough-guy persona. He wouldn’t die. Those what-ifs were just moments of weakness—and Vance Hopper was anything but weak.

Scribbling a note, he wrote, ‘Going to save (Y/N), if I’m not back by tomorrow afternoon assume I’m dead and bring the cops to house 7742 with the shitty metal fence and twisted tree.’ At least if he died, he’d end this sick fucker’s kidnapping career. Sure he could call the cops right now and say he had the house of the kidnapper, but these guys weren’t going to do jack. No matter who went with each of the kidnappings claiming they saw the kidnapper, unless you had solid evidence then it was pointless.

As he walked out of his house and down the winding streets to make it to ‘Al and Max’s’ House, Vance thought out his plan. If he waited until late enough in the night to try and break in, then it’d probably work since he was sure no person would or could stay awake that long and late. One issue was that he didn’t know where exactly in the house you were. You could be in the bedroom, a basement if he even had one, a bathroom.

He thought of you stuck in some dingy and dirty room, face and body dirty and your face scared, and he could imagine your scared face very well considering your guys’ relationship with each other. Vance never felt guilty for bullying someone before—so why did he feel bad for you? He knew a lot of people weren’t exactly happy with him since he was the last person to see you and he didn’t even help when he was just feet away, and he felt bad for how many people mourned your disappearance. Not to mention how Bruce Yamada had said the last person you talked to was him, and the last thing you mentioned was how he fucked up your life in a way.

You really weren’t as bad as he thought when he remembered you. You fought back against him which was a bit of a change to what he was used to, and you seemed to be somewhat of an enjoyable person based on your interactions with other people. You had nice eyes, he supposed. Maybe after everything is over he’d try and make it up to you. Get you some snacks or take you to a movie.

Wait. That wasn’t really making it up. That was more like asking you out on a date. Shit. How had his mind drifted from saving you to taking you out? It’s not like he’d known you in the past, especially not because you two lived on the same block. Thinking back to that incident in the Grab N’ Go, Vance didn’t fully know why he cut your hair. It wasn’t just because you messed up his game, it was also something else he had against you. What that something was, no one would really know.

It was slightly dark when Vance got to the neighborhood, hiding behind the big bush next door. Vance had a watch with him, so he knew when he should be in and back out. 8:47 PM, not too bad. He figured sneaking around at sometime near 11 would probably be good to get a feel for the place, and actually breaking in around midnight. When the blonde started to look at the front of the house, he nearly jumped out of his skin when the masked man, ‘Al’ as he learned, walked out to let a dog take a piss. Fuck, there was a dog?! This was going to get a little harder.

——————

It took a little bit to prepare yourself, grabbing the soda bottle from yesterday and the cable from their places as you got ready. You didn’t know exactly what you’d do, but you were pretty good at coming up with things on the fly. You could hit the Grabber with the bottle if you needed, and you could use the cable to choke him or trip him or something.

“Oh my god I’m getting ahead of myself.” You whisper to yourself, pacing around the room slightly. You guessed it was sometime around 9 or 10 PM by now. You’d been looking around the area trying to see if you could get out another way. By the toilet, the walls, the window—nothing.

You tied the bottle to the cable by the neck, swinging it around to see if you’d be able to use something with distance. If you couldn’t hold your own against Vance Hopper normally while you were at your best, then you had no chance against a grown man while half-starving. Wait a minute. You did beat Vance once—in the nurse’s office!

You stopped for a second, the swinging bottle stopping and clattering to the floor, making you cringe and wince at the loud noise as glass collided with linoleum. You walked over to grab the bottle, thinking of that tug-of-war you played with Vance a few weeks ago. Now you have a strategy. Thinking of that time in the nurse’s office, your mind drifted back over to Vance. You’d really appreciate him right about now—with his strong arms, threatening demeanor, and all that. You remember staring into his blue eyes when he was on top of you, both scared and intrigued. Eyes are the window to the soul or some bullshit like that. If he wasn’t so scary, you’d probably be into him. He was the bad boy that good girls would want if he wasn’t so violent when provoked.

Hold on, were you just thinking that Vance Hopper was attractive? You shook the thought from your head, bending down to pick up the bottle and noticing the linoleum flooring under it cracked. That’s odd—linoleum didn’t usually crack like that. You stomped on the crack, noticing it push down slightly. What was under this? You eventually clawed at it, noticing dirt. Cheap bastard put tile straight on top of dirt.

You could use this. Quickly, you went at the dirt with the bottle, filling the greenish glass with the dirty substance. Now there was more weight and therefore there’d be more power behind your strikes.

——————

Vance was walking around the house and scoping out where he should break in, the quietness of the night creating a sort of nerve-wracking, tense air around the blonde. So far, any door he’d tried so far had been locked extensively and any window was locked tight and in a hard to access place. It had been about thirty minutes since he started searching around and so far nothing had come of it.

Sitting down against a wall of the house behind a few bushes, the boy leaned his head back. He was supposed to help you, but he wasn’t doing anything helpful aside from just walking around. Maybe he should just go for it and break in by force. He was strong, maybe he could take the man on and win.

Turning his head to look above him at a window, he sighed and slammed his fist against the wall in frustration. That wall didn’t feel like a wall though. Looking down, he noticed a window nestled close to the floor next to him. How he didn’t notice before was crazy to him. Getting on his stomach, his blue eyes were squinted as he tried to make out what room this window led to. It was really dark inside and the window wasn’t the cleanest thing on earth so he struggled a bit, but he noticed something moving inside and was instantly at full attention. Wiping the glass cleaner on his side, Vance saw it was a moving person going back and forth—that moving person being you. Holy shit.

He furiously knocked on the glass, hoping to catch your attention—which he did. As you turned your head to look at where the noise was located, your eyes widened. Vance Hopper was knocking on the glass window leading to your captivity. With watery eyes, you moved a little closer so you could both see each other more clearly. You were both so close but so far away. You tried shouting at him to see if he could hear you, but based on his confused look, you concluded that he really couldn’t hear you. This basement really was soundproof.

You thought for a moment, running over to grab the bottle of dirt you had on the floor somewhere and showing Vance. He had not a single clue what you were trying to tell him, but when he saw you wind your arm back he got the hint and moved away. He heard a loud thump against the glass but ultimately nothing came of it. Moving back over, he peered through the window and saw you with your arms raised back. The bottle broke in its collision against the wall and was now in bits and pieces all over the floor.

Vance got up from his spot and walked away, going to grab his bag of stuff. You didn’t know this however and assumed he just got up and left. Why would he do that? Was he taunting you? Did he get that man to kidnap you? It could’ve been a setup.

You started hyperventilating, tears coming out of your eyes. Your life was going to end soon and Vance Hopper and this kidnapper would be the only ones to truly know of your demise. Covering your mouth to slow your breathing, you were scared by the loud crack of something against metal—your head snapping to the window where Vance was thwacking at the glass with a heavy hammer. When it started cracking and you started calming down in response, you grabbed the cable you had lying by the bed. You could toss it up and he’d pull you out.

Finally, the glass broke, the hand of your tormentor-turned-savior sticking through the window. “Toss that up here. I’ll tie it to the bush and get you out of here.”

You were crying heavy tears now, the relief of everything settling down on your shoulders. You threw the bundle up at the boy with a slight struggle because of your blurry vision and waited for him to finish. When his head popped back into view, he looked more terrified than concentrated. Being caught up in the moment earlier and trying to quiet your sobs, neither of you had heard the basement door swinging open and the masked man coming into the room, the lower half of his mask gone, a deep frown now painted on his face.

“Looks like we have some naughty children at play.” He said whilst bearing a knife that glinted in the dim light of the room.

You backed up, eyes wide and air gone from your lungs. Holy fuck he had a knife. He heard you two and now you’d pay the price. Your eyes flicked between his position near the door and the glass all over the floor. Vance’s shouting at him helped distract the man as you made a quick move to swipe the largest and sharpest shard of green, dirt-covered glass off the floor.

“Leave her alone, Al! That’s right, I know your fucking name! If you so much as touch her I’ll get you straight to the fucking cops!”

The man’s eyes—Al’s eyes, flicked to your sudden movement, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “You wouldn’t be able to get anyone here before she’d be dead and cold on the floor.” He started walking over to you near the corner of the room. He won. You played his game and lost, retreating back into the corner of the room like a scared animal.

You looked around, darting from your current position to the wall by the hallway, his heavy footsteps following with more fury and speed than before. You didn’t make it to your next position before him though, a rough and calloused hand gripping around your elbow and yanking you against him and causing you to lose balance, his other hand fumbling the knife around as he got it into position.

You knew you wouldn’t be at peak physical ability after eating nothing but eggs and soda for your past three or four meals, but you already felt disoriented by just being tugged around? Not to mention that you normally ran faster than you just did.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl, (Y/N).” He murmured, tracing the knife up your arms—the blade biting into some parts deeper than others as you started to bleed. He finally brought the knife to your throat, the tip pressing against the thin layer of flesh on top of your windpipe as a warning. “You got so much closer than that other kid, and yet you’re still gonna die just like he and the other boy before him did.”

You struggled against him, the hand holding the glass shard moving up to get a better vantage point. “Let me go!” Jerking your arm down, you stabbed it into the flesh of his thigh, a loud scream coming from him, his grip around the knife loosening enough to drop it, but the grip on you tightening.

“You little shit!”

Just as the Grabber shoved you to the floor and was winding back his leg to kick you, Vance—who jumped in through the window—came up behind the man and kicked the back of his knees out, watching you roll over as Albert fell forward and jammed the glass further into his leg before rolling over. Ouch, that looked painful. He curled forward in pain until Vance sat himself on his stomach, throwing punches at him and knocking the mask off in the process—which you picked up. Getting his mask knocked off seemed to give The Grabber some newfound energy as he punched Vance in the stomach, the blonde falling off of the man while struggling to get breath back into his lungs.

“Fuck.” He wheezed, gripping his gut, wheezing out in pain when Albert kicked him.

“Two birds with one stone.” His voice was gravely and dry, about to start repaying the favor until the phone rang, startling Vance and Albert.

It gave you the perfect opportunity to grab the knife in your free hand, the steel and rubber a little heavier than you expected which caused you to fumble for a moment as you quickly walked up behind Albert. ‘Shit.’ You thought, knife raised. Your vision was spinning ever so slightly and your arms hurt, so when you made a stab for his back and landed in his shoulder, that would have to be as good as you would get. Vance pushed him off and got up, his steps staggered as he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the window and cable setup.

“Climb up.” He commanded, turning to keep an eye out for any more surprises your kidnapper had in store. When you threw the mask out the window and crawled through the window frame you ended up cutting your arms and legs on the broken glass around it, tears pricking at your eyes in the process. Just after you got up and reached a hand out for Vance, The Grabber stood, his knife in his left hand while his right was clutching the wound on his shoulder to stop the blood pouring out. Seeing his whole face together and uncovered by any obscurities made your stomach lurch. He looked just as sickening as you imagined.

“Give up already.” Vance said, ready to take him on again. “You’re just about halfway dead anyway.”

“I won our game, (Y/N), now I get to kill you.” He said, ignoring Vance and pointing his knife at you.

“I’m fucking talking to you!” The blonde said, stomping over to the man with his arms in a fighting position. “Just lay down and–”

The man swung his arm out in an arch before him, the knife making contact with Vance as the boy shouted out in pain. It happened so quickly that you barely processed anything; not Vance falling to the floor clutching his arms, not Albert walking to you, and not him yanking on your arm. Just as you started falling through the window and back into hell, you made a grab for the hammer that had been right beside you, swinging your arm at his head as you fell down. The room echoed with the sickening crack of metal on bone and flesh along with the thud of bodies on the linoleum flooring. Albert seemed to be knocked out, blood quickly flooding his hair and the floor around him. You on the other hand though…

“Shit!” You cried out in pain, your left wrist limp and at an unnatural angle. Definitely broken, you thought. Rolling onto your side and holding your arm close to your chest to not move it, your tears and sobs started filling the quietness of the room, so did the sound of ripping and shuffling. You were too focused on the pain to look at what it was.

A warm hand landed on your shoulder, lifting you into a sitting position before pulling you up with a pained grunt coming from behind you. Vance was okay and alive. Thank god. You turned to look at him as you stood, the help of one of his hands cradling your elbow at a stable position, and hugged him, stifled cries coming out in full. It took a moment, but Vance hugged you back with his free arm, his own quiet tears falling onto your dirtied shirt. You two killed the man that had been tormenting your town for weeks and Vance had saved you from death.

The phone on the wall rang again, capturing your attention as you wiped your eyes and started walking over to the wall-mounted device and leaving a confused Vance to wipe his tears. You stood there for a moment, an air of hesitation surrounding you, your unbroken hand just on top of the phone body. It rang once, twice, thrice– Picking it up, you held it to your ear.

“Hey, (Y/N). Thanks.”

“Hey Griffin.”

“He’s gone for good now, right?”

You were surprised to hear Billy as well. “Yeah, he’s gone. Dead and gone.”

It was quiet for a moment until the line went flat. No static, no background noise. Just a phone with a cut cord now. Pulling it away, you smiled at it and put it back, walking over to where the knife laid on the floor to pick it up and thought for a moment. You wouldn’t disturb some universal god right? You walked back to the phone and looked back at Vance, silently asking for help.

“Why?” He asked, taking the knife from you and holding the twisting phone cord.

“Good question,” You started, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Maybe I want to keep a piece of Griffin and Billy out of here, ya know?”

“I really don't. Are you sure you didn’t go crazy?”

“I’m not sure.”

——————

When you two walked out of the basement through the stairs and looked around, it was strange. Vance felt like he’d been in that basement for weeks even though it might’ve been just an hour—so he couldn’t imagine how you felt when you hobbled up the stairs leading away from your captivity. In short, you were shocked. The house looked so normal—nothing like what you’d expect from a man as sick in the head as Albert.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” You muttered, looking around for the way out of this place.

“Puke on his couch or something.”

Looking around for a quick second, you both noticed the front door and the bike lock on it. Vance looked particularly pissed about it since he assumed you both didn’t know the code and you’d have to end up going through the window—which your broken wrist and his sliced and barely scabbed over bloody arms didn’t allow.

Grabbing at the lock and shaking it with clear frustration, Vance didn’t expect to hear a dog start barking like crazy, both of you jumping out of your skins. If you two escaped a murderous serial killer but died to a dog…that’d be really embarrassing to you both. Footsteps started walking down the hall to your left and you both looked that way and saw a disheveled man who had clearly just woken up looking at you both—scratch that, he was looking at you in fear.

“Holy shit. You’re the girl The Grabber kidnapped!”

You and Vance exchanged confused looks. Wait—did he not know? When Vance leaned back to look at him, he had a mixture of emotions on his face. Why wasn’t that man freaking out? Why wasn’t he attacking you both to avenge Albert?

“You mean that man downstairs?”

His face changed into one of disbelief. You guys were bullshitting him right? “What do you mean? There isn’t a downstairs.”

——————————————

When you and Vance ended up at the nearest police station—courtesy of Max, who’s whole world seemed to fall apart when you two explained what happened, it was a whirlwind of events; several officers running over to you and asking you everything that happened, paramedics being called, both of your parents being called, reports, cars driving to the house at four in the morning. It was a lot.

Vance had severe lacerations across his forearms and ended up needing several stitches, along with severe bruising and two cracked ribs. You meanwhile had completely shattered your left wrist, had a few small cuts that needed one or two stitches, and slightly malnourished. You have to stay in the hospital for around a week, while Vance is just there for two nights and one day.

You had a lot of visitors come through: your family, Bruce (who started to sob upon seeing you), Donna, Gwenny, Finney, Robin, and the press, but they kept getting denied. By the end of the first day you were allowed to see visitors, you were a little disappointed Vance didn’t show up. Laying back in your bed and staring up at the ceiling in the dark room you sighed. After all this mumbo-jumbo was taken care of life would be back to normal; people going about their days in peace and kids out and playing again—meanwhile you’d be terrified too to walk around the area alone.

“‘Lucky escapist’ they say, but I think I’m more on the unlucky side.”

“I think living as a sort of hero and escaping that guy is pretty damn lucky.” A gruff voice muttered out, startling you enough into sitting up quickly, looking around.

“Vance?” You asked, heart pounding. “You don’t come visit me all day and then at night you do?!”

As much as you appreciated the sentiment and that he came to talk to you—that terrified you. Albert had come to visit you so often at night, often waking you up just because he was watching. You didn’t even realize how heavy you were breathing, your body unable to regulate itself as fear and adrenaline took over.

“Holy shit, (Y/N), I didn’t realize it would scare you so much.”

You glared at him, laying back with your hands over your face in an attempt to take away all the open air and calm yourself down. “I’m just still scared.” You admitted. “He watched me at night.”

Vance walked closer from his spot near the door, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to you. “Well you’re still lucky you got out of there.”

“Only thanks to you. I think I would’ve died on my own…” Small pause. “No. I definitely would’ve died without you.”

Vance looked at your small smile, your eyes holding a sort of sadness. He’d tormented you since the summer and led you into your kidnapping, yet you still were grateful for his help when you could just as easily take it as something he should’ve done. God, he felt like the biggest asshole ever.

“I’m sorry.”

You were shocked, eyes wide. Vance Hopper apologizing? You had no clue what he was apologizing for—but it was shocking. “For what?”

“What do you mean for what? Did your body start eating its own brain? I’m apologizing for what I did to you before you got kidnapped!”

“Ohhh.” You said, giggling at his facial expression. “I think after my getting kidnapped overshadows that. I’m not mad or salty about it anymore.”

The blonde leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. God, you were stupid. He turned his head to look at the wall, spotting a picture on the nightstand. “Did someone leave a polaroid here with you or something?” He asked, snatching it before you could react.

“Wait a minute, is this a picture of me?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, the words lost on your tongue. “It was The Grabber! He took those pictures and came downstairs asking if it was you!”

He started laughing. Yes, laughing. It was a little shocking to hear him laugh about something like this, but you joined in. In your defense—his laughter was really contagious. When you realized he was getting really loud though, you got up and covered his mouth.

“As much as I’d like to appreciate my hero, you’ve gotta be way more quiet. I don’t want us to get in trouble.”

He stared at you, his hand reaching up to your wrist and pulling your hand off his mouth. “Your hero, huh?”

Your face turned red, looking away. “You saved me, what else am I supposed to say?”

“Nothing, I guess.”

There were a few moments of silence as you two sat there, the air slightly awkward. You stared at the wall across from you and Vance stared at the picture. Damn, so he wasn’t as slick as he thought he was when he was sneaking around that house. He looked up at you. Why’d you keep the picture? He couldn’t think of anything that would make you want to keep it—unless…

“Since I’m your hero, don’t I deserve a reward?”

“Huh?!”

“Now you’re the one being too loud.” He said, leaning forward. “Why’d you keep the picture?”

You stuttered a few times, hands fiddling with the blankets nervously. “My last connection to the outside?”

“Hm.” Staring at you, his blue eyes were hooded and piercing, a nervous blush spreading across your face.

“Fine.” You murmured, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek, surprised when he turned his head at the last moment and pressed his lips on yours.

His hands slid on top of yours resting on your lap, lips connected for a good few seconds before you both pulled away. Your face was hot, embarrassment and shyness taking over. Vance’s cheeks were pink, his eyes focused on where your hands were connected. You’d only ever thought that Vance Hopper would probably be a pleasant person to kiss; with his rough exterior slowly becoming soft just before the moment, and now you actually did kiss him.

“Bruce um…he helped me realize something.”

You nodded, lips pressed into a small smile as you intertwined your fingers together. “Bruce didn’t help, but I think being kidnapped did.” You laughed at what you said as Vance leaned his forehead against yours, both of your noses touching as he looked at you.

“So…do you think ‘lucky escapist’ is actually true now?”

—————— FIN ——————

Taglist

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[reiderwriter]

💢 At Each Other's Throats 💢

Spencer Reid x female! Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: A previous encounter means that you're not the biggest fan of Spencer Reid, and you go to some extreme lengths to prove that to him.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Dom! Spencer, but not exactly sub reader , degradation (use of whore, slut), semi-public foreplay, arguing as foreplay etc, oral sex (m receiving, f mentions, too), face fucking, rimming, nipple play, rough sex/ rough play, spanking, slapping, spitting, choking, messy sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, mentions of painful sex/ pain play etc. some possible CNC triggers/ phrasing.

A/N: I couldn't find a gift of Spencer being bitchy enough, so everyone, please enjoy Kyle Orfman from Life After Beth. This one was a labour of love, if love was actually hate. It's 2am. This is obviously not edited, and may never be.

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You knew from reputation alone that you would have a hard time working with Spencer Reid. Perhaps it was the slew of child prodigy articles that popped up alongside his name. Maybe it was even just your preconceived notion of what men with three PhDs, a badge, and a gun were like. Maybe it was the fact that he'd written to you after one of your first professional articles was published in The American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology and told you a piece you'd worked on for 18 months was just plain wrong. 

Either way, you laid eyes on him, and the hatred was cemented. But fuck was he hot. 

He had no clue who you were as his boss introduced you to him, looking between the two of you as if expecting good things to happen. You should've warned him. 

“Spencer, this is Y/N. She'll be assisting on a few cases from this month onwards.” 

His eyes glazed over as he ran your name through whatever roller index of memories he had stored in there. 

“Y/N is a lecturer at the University of Virginia. She's going to be lecturing at the FBI Academy from September onwards-” 

“You! You wrote an article, I wrote to you about it, did you get my le-”

“Yes, I got your letter. I believe you called my writing ‘juvenile’ and my thinking ‘wishful,’ and that if I had any actual field experience, I'd slowly understand how many mistakes there were in my writing.” 

Agent Hotchner took an almost imperceptible deep breath in, trying to hide the fact that this was all new information to him. 

“Well, here I am, Doctor Reid.” 

The man in front of you gaped for a moment, letting his mouth hang open, closing after a few seconds only to open again. Perhaps you'd disorganized that index of his. You hoped you'd set the goddamn thing alight. 

“Shall we get started?”

To say that you'd gotten off to a bad start was an understatement. Your start had been reversed over by a dump truck with no tires. It had been cemented into the ground with no chance of going anywhere but down into the pits of hell. 

Which is, coincidentally, where you found yourself every time you had to engage Spencer Reid in conversation. 

Your first impression of his looks - his incredibly good looks - was that he was even better looking when he was pensive, and unhappy, and being bitchy. He was positively climbable when argumentative, and you liked nothing more than ruining his day, if just for the fact that he'd angrily loosen his tie and pop open his top buttons, exposing the pale white of his neck, and his sharp collar bones, perfectly ready for someone to suck and nip at. 

He was still an ass, however, and you couldn't bring yourself to sink to those depths.

Four cases in, and you hadn't agreed on one thing. You'd caught a serial arsonist, who he had demanded was most likely an office worker, but you'd countered with college student, and you had prevailed there. 1-0. 

Then, unfortunately, you'd lost back to back cases with unsubs in the trucking industry, unfamiliar with and uninterested in the life of the Jack Kerouac type. 

You'd even the playing field at last with a child abduction. And although you knew you'd both been keeping score, you were so genuinely happy for this case to be over. A child was safe at home, and you'd worked so well under pressure (something he had assured you would change your view of your personal forensic psychology theories). 2-2. 

Of course, those were just the big leagues. You'd fought many petty battles, too, as the war waged. 

You'd accidentally stolen his place on the jet, enjoying the long bench seat for a good few naps. A few times, he'd settled in next to you, trying to nudge you out of the chair completely, but you'd held your ground. 

“This is my seat. Usually. There are like 10 other places on this jet to sit. Why does it have to be here?” He'd grumbled into your ear as you gently elbowed him in the side, accidentally, of course.

“There aren't assigned seats. Maybe you have control issues, Doctor,” you cut back, trying to avoid speaking too loud to avoid the ire of the group. 

While you'd enjoyed bickering with - and intellectually besting - Spencer greatly, it did seem that the sentiment wasn't shared by those around you. 

“You can't be serious, right now,” Morgan complained from a seat opposite. “You're seriously fighting over a seat, right now?” 

“It's my seat, Derek, come on, you know it's my seat.” 

The look returned to Spencer almost had you ashamed of your petty actions. 

“I swear they're just taking every advantage to get closer and closer together. Next thing you know, she'll be sitting in his lap,” Emily said from the corner of the plane, so obviously not talking to you that you were almost offended. 

“Ah, young infatuation,” Rossi replied, still ignoring you. 

Reid slinked just slightly away after that, and you weren't sure if you were more annoyed at the comments themselves or the loss of his annoying companionship. 

You wanted him to bother you because it meant you'd succeeded in bothering him. 

You'd had more than your fair share of rather explosive arguments as well. 

“You can't seriously believe that Thomas Edison did more for the field of engineering than Nikola Tesla,” he'd shouted at you at a bar after a case had landed you in paperwork hell, filling out forms and working into the late hours. 

A drink had been suggested, a celebration after solving four straight cases in a row, and you'd gladly taken the chance to unwind. 

“Spencer, we're literally sat in a bar decorated with multiple light bulbs. Look, there's one. Another! Astounding. Thank you, Mr Edison.” 

“And none of it would be possible without Alternating Current, so yes. Thank you, Mr Tesla.” 

Your teammates had long since abandoned you to your petty bickering and fighting amongst yourselves. They'd stopped getting involved when Penelope had tried to mediate your discussion about Doctor Who, which had quickly devolved into New Who vs Old Who. 

You didn't even care strongly either way, you just cared that he did. And however he felt, you were sure as hell ready to take up arms against him. Because it was so fuckimg hot watching him lose his shit. 

You were a grown woman. You could admit that to yourself. You likely wouldn't admit it to anyone else, even if it was as clear as day that you found him unbearable attractive at times. You sure as hell knew that it wasn't a one-way street, from the way his eyes strolled across your body each morning. 

You wondered if there was a section of his brain that was dedicated to memorising everything you'd said, done, and worn since he'd met you. You hoped there was. 

On your fifth and final case with the BAU team, you felt unmatched in your annoyance. 

You were still drawn with Spencer for case breakthroughs, and you felt the need to beat him once again just to nail the point home. He was just stubborn enough to see a 3-2 win as a landslide victory for himself, though you were absolutely going to frame it that way yourself if you managed to be the one to crack everything. 

All sense of teamwork and camaraderie was off the table. 

You had a murderer to catch.

Three women, beaten, assaulted, and tied up. He'd shorn their hair but bagged them up so they were unseen. Then he'd placed the bags on display. The unsub was caught between two extremes, hatred of his victims, and gentleness, protecting their dignity in death by covering them up. 

Obviously, you and Spencer had to decide which side of the debate you were to land on.

“I think we're dealing with a killer without remorse here. It's easier to explain the covering, the dressing of the women as a ritual rather than guilt.” 

He'd finally played his cards, and now it was your turn to passionately wipe them from the table. 

“Remorse? He's cut all their hair off and beat half of them so badly we needed dental to identify them. And in case you've forgotten Spencer, half of them are prostitutes.”

“You're saying he can't feel remorse for killing prostitutes?”

“That is not what I'm saying. Don't twist my words."

“Well, of you'd said something that wasn't nonsensical, I'd have a better chance of understanding what the hell you're trying to say!’

With every line you'd stepped closer and closer to one another, like two boxers in a ring, sizing each other up before a fight. 

You wanted to take his tie and strangle him with it. You wanted to pull him down for a kiss and force him to shut the hell up. 

“Reid, Y/N, both of you take five,” Hotch called sternly from the other side of the room. Guiltily, you both broke away from one another, his hand brushing your side as you took a step back, almost as if he'd meant to grab you before Hotch stepped in. 

Probably to remove you from the room. 

“Take five?” You said, mustering all the disappointment you could as you silently pleaded to stick around. 

“Go back to the motel and get some rest. If you're going to argue like this, I don't need you at the precinct, and I certainly don't need you on my team.” 

You blanched at that, almost taken aback by the harsh words as you silently nodded and quietly walked towards the door, letting it shut behind you. 

Spencer stayed behind, and though you couldn't hear his arguments, you knew he was attempting to reason with Hotch, as well. It evidently didn't work as he stormed out of the room behind you. 

He looked half like a kicked puppy, half like an angry school kid who'd just been scolded by a teacher. 

“Don't look at me like that, this is your fault,” you muttered as you walked away from the room. 

“What? How is this my fault?” 

“If you weren't so goddamn infuriating, we'd be able to get some actual work done.” 

You marched off in the direction of the exit, but he caught your shoulder before you made it that far.

“You're blaming me? This is my job, Y/N, not yours. You get to go back to a cushy little office after this is done to teach the people that are going to end up doing the paperwork that consists of only 2% of our job.”

His finger jabbed at your shoulder as he said the words, and you had to resist the temptation to grab it. 

“Doesn't feel too good to be criticized when you're just doing your job, huh, Spencer?” 

His brows knitted together in a deepened scowl and he took a step forward. 

But there were eyes on you, and whatever confrontation this was, you didn't want to act it out in front of an office full of cops. 

You turned and walked away again, down a seemingly abandoned hall to what looked to be an empty storage cupboard, flinging the light on and waiting the three seconds it took him to catch up with you. 

“What's your problem?” He said, joining you in the cramped closet. 

“You! You're the problem! You're infuriating, and annoying, and most important, you're you!” You poked his chest back, harder than he had earlier, quietly reveling in the feel of his body under your fingertip. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like me to be someone different? Someone who worships the ground you walk on?” He said, discovering sarcasm for the first time since you'd been introduced. 

“Sure, Spencer, if you can take tour head out of your own ass long enough to worship someone else, then be my guest.” 

With a single push he crowded you against the wall, a hand above your head locking you into position as his other hand held your hip, his own hips joining you at the wall as you sucked in a breath. 

“You're begging to hear praise, right now, Y/N. Do you even hear yourself?” He asked, whispering the words directly into your ear. 

“W-Well, you have me pressed up against the wall like some fucking caveman that needs to breed or die.” You spent half the time you were talking trying to compensate for the stutter, trying not to look weak, that you totally missed the words that came from your own mouth. 

“You think I want to have sex with you?” He asked, chuckling awkwardly, even as his hand on your hip began rubbing circles, his head hanging lower, just inches away from your mouths meeting. 

“I think you'd love nothing more,” you said, finally lifting your hands to his hair and tucking a lock behind his ears. “Such a shame I won't be crawling into your bed.” 

“Is that a challenge?” He asked, and you were taken aback for a few seconds. 

“You want me so fucking bad, you're trying to convince yoursel-”

With a swoop, he cut you off, his lips meeting yours. You gasped and allowed his tongue to enter your mouth, but you came to your senses quickly. You kissed back with all the anger of the last month and all the attraction that had built up since you'd joined the team. Your tongue fought his, your hands tangled in his hair as his pulled them out, pinning them against a wall. But you slipped free and grabbed him again, grabbing the tie you'd wanted to choke him with earlier and not letting go. 

His lips were soft, and his body felt hot pressed against you, and you hated how good he was at all of this, how your body responded to his, how each time you pulled away it was with a small whimper as you begged for more. 

“I knew you wanted me,” he said, between kisses, grabbing your face and tilting it up as he returned his tongue to yours. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you kissed me first.” His hands trailed up your hips, untucking your shirt as he pushed his hand under, his cold fingers sending a trail of goosebumps along your skin as you shuddered. 

“I kissed you because you begged me to,” he said, his fingers caressing the bottom of your chest as he tried to press your bra up further. 

You were about to argue back when his lips met yours again, and you were lost in the haze of arousal, leg lifting to his hip to better allow him space to settle against you. 

You grew wilder in your passion, neither of you giving in even for one second as you writhed against each other, begging for satisfaction while denying that you'd ever wanted each other in the first place. Just as it became unbearable, your hands slipping to his belt, ready to pull his cock free and take it, the door opened again. 

“Reid, Y/N,” Morgan said from the doorway as you hastily jumped away from each other. 

You pulled your shirt down quickly, and Spencer stepped behind you, covering up the tent in his pants as you stared guiltily up at Derek Morgan. 

“Hotch sent me after you to give you the keys to the SUV,” he grumbled, making no comment on anything that happened. 

“We were just, um, we were just-” your brain fought for an excuse, but you'd left your brain behind somewhere between joining the BAU and foreplay with Spencer in a closet, so words escaped you. 

���You were just making out in a closet. It's okay, we all know,” Derek said, turning to leave. 

You jumped up, indignant now he'd brushed you off, and followed him out of the closet, an equally shocked Spencer trailing behind you. 

“What do you mean you all know? All know what?” You said, stomping back into the office. 

“That you two are into each other. It's why Hotch sent you away earlier. He didn't want to see the two of you going at it,” he said, pressing the car keys into your hands. 

“We are not into each other,” Spencer shouted back at Morgan as he stalked off, and you glared at him to shut his mouth. There was a crowd forming, and you still didn't need that attention. Not when your hair was matted from seven minutes in hell with Spencer or when his hand had, once again, settled on your hip, pulling you closer into him. 

“Let's go,” you huffed, and finally left the building with Spencer right behind you. 

You didn't talk for the rest of the drive home, even as your brain flooded itself with images of him taking you in the back of the car, your lips around his dick as he drove, him pulling over to bend you over the hood. 

You went straight to your separate rooms when you got back to the motel, though you swore that the walls were thin enough that he surely heard you pleasure yourself, fingers sinking into yourself. You weren't sure if he, too, had his hand wrapped around his cock, or if your brain was just now imagining whatever it liked to spur you on. 

Imagined or real, his moans were delicious, a maddening mix of frustration, exasperation and desperation, whimpers and groans, and small growls until you yourself were cumming, and letting yourself sleep.

You avoided talking, all talking, until the end of the case, even as your head replayed his infuriating words, his moans and the rustling sound of his fingers pressing your shirt up. You refused to talk to him to give his coworkers the validation of arguing with him once more. You weren't into each other. 

You simply wanted to fuck him. You didn't like him as a person otherwise. 

In avoiding him, though, the small taste of release you'd sampled in the closet had your softer parts deliriously wanting more. As much as you hated Spencer, you needed him so bad. 

You'd given him the cold shoulder  but he'd returned it just as quickly, and you were more annoyed not talking to him than you weren't. 

Your last case wrapped up, and you decided it was time to give him what he so obviously wanted. A conversation. 

You sat yourself right back down in his seat as you got on the jet and laid down, pulling his blanket over yourself as you took up the entire space. 

The others shook their heads at you as they walked on, Spencer taking up the rear. His eyes met yours, and he scowled, and you couldn't help but wonder if he'd look like that fucking you, so stern and angry. 

You sighed and pushed onto your side as he stood over you. 

“That's my seat.” 

You smiled in success as you looked over your shoulder. 

“I'm tired, I'm going to sleep.” 

“But that is my seat-” 

“Spencer, you've sat on every seat on this damn plane before, that wasn't your seat until last month, now sit down, shut up and let me rest,” JJ exploded and you suddenly felt bad for drawing him into your argument.  Or you did until you sat up a bit, and he sat himself right down where your head had been. 

“Spencer!”

“I give up…” JJ groaned from the table seats, pulling headphones over her head and shutting her eyes, and the others made to ignore you similarly. 

Not one to be beaten, you pushed the book in his hands off his lap and laid your head down again, now cushioned by his legs. 

“What-” his voice squeaked as you shut your eyes, too, and made yourself comfortable. He didn't push you off, or, heaven forbid, start talking to you again. Shockingly, he adjusted to the position quickly and resigned himself to pillow duty for the six hour flight. 

You, too, shocked yourself by how fast you fell asleep. You woke up with his hands in your hair, stroking your head as he read, book in one hand, you in the other. His hands felt wonderful, raking through your long locks, brushing each errant hair off your face. 

“Spencer?” You said, voice still thick with sleep. 

His hand shot away, and you almost regretted not pretending to sleep for longer, sure that he'd have gone on if you hadn't said anything. 

You straightened and cleared your own throat as you stretched, sitting quietly as you listened to the flight landing announcement. 

“Congrats, Y/N, you've successfully finished your time with the BAU,” Rossi said from his seat opposite you, strapping in for the landing.

“And you haven't been shot, kidnapped, or slapped. That's gotta be a first, right?” Emily joked from the corner. 

You smiled quietly as you strapped yourself down, scooting even closer to Spencer now to get your belt fastened.

Still, you couldn't resist the urge to mumble a retort.

“I'm sure Spencer thought about it a few times,” you sighed, a breath of resignation releasing from your lips dramatically.

The others chuckled, but Spencer sat silently next to you until the jet landed. 

He stayed quiet as he began to pack his things, but it became clear quickly that he was dragging everything out. As the plane emptied, you shot him a curious look, not daring to speak until you were the last two on the plane. 

“You're being slow today.” 

“I've never thought about shooting you or kidnapping you,” he said, voice low and quiet, even though you were alone. 

“It was a joke, Spencer,” you started, so sick of him taking g everything so seriously. You made to walk past him, but as you did, you felt his hand on your waist pulling you back as another hand came hard and fast at your ass. 

“I wasn't finished speaking,” he said as his hand ran over your butt, soothing the pain he'd just delivered. “I have thought about slapping you, though.” 

With that he grabbed his bag and stalked off the jet, not bothering to cast another look behind him. 

Two could play at that game. 

In about the most childish was you could muster, you ran ahead of him, staying three paces directly in front of him as he tried to overtake you. You moved when he moved. You sped up when he sped up. You even stopped a few times, so he'd run into you. 

“Y/N, cut it out.”

“Make me,” you said, throwing a withering look over your shoulder. 

He didn't wither. 

Instead, he grabbed your arm and marched you all the way through the FBI building, down to the parking lot, and into your car. As soon as he had you safely in the driver's seat, he closed the door, pulling off your visitors' pass. 

“I'll return this for you, no need for you to dally.” 

“Fuck you,” you spat out the window as you started the ignition. 

“It's been a pleasure,” he said with a grimace. 

“No, it hasn't,” you said back, wondering how long you'd spend in jail of you just mowed him down then and there. 

“You’re right. It hasn't,” he said, leaning down and into the window so you were now eye to eye. 

“Really? It seems like you got a lot of pleasure out of spanking me earlier. You were certainly experiencing a lot of pleasure when you pushed me up against a wall last week. If it wasn't pleasure, there was definitely something long-”

“Long?” He smirked.

“And hard in your pants.” 

He leaned in through the window, his breath fanning against your cheeks as he whispered into your ear. 

“That was my gun.” 

“And I certainly won't be helping you fire a load,” you said, starting the ignition and pushing him back from the window as you drove away from the FBI and away from Spencer Reid. 

It infuriated him that you'd gotten the last word. You'd spent a month with him and hadn't even given him a chance to show off his good qualities, and then you'd left without giving him a chance to prove himself. 

And, in doing so, you'd told a blatant lie. 

There had been two people in that closet, two people with tongues desperate for contact, eager for battle. You'd been moaning just as much as he had when his hands found your nipples. 

But you'd gotten to drive away without listening to his retort, and it was killing him. 

He sat and seethed at his desk for a while, waiting for the sense of relief that you were gone to wash over him. This had been what he wanted for weeks. Why was he now so discontent? Why did everything feel wrong? 

Abandoning paperwork he knew wouldn't be needed until at least next week, Spencer found your address in the team files, wrote it down, and left his desk. 

When you got home, there was nothing waiting for you. 

It was annoying. You'd spent the last month constantly on the go, always with more work, more cases, more paperwork. You'd killed any apparent gaps with Spencer. 

You could still feel his hands on your ass. You hated to admit it, but in your short acquaintance with Doctor Asshat, you'd grown fond of having him around as eye candy. When he wasn't being annoying (talking, breathing, or generally just being), you could quite happily imagine his head buried between your legs, his tongue lapping up every drop of cum you had to offer. 

There were definitely better things he could be doing with his mouth, in any case. 

Your body felt hot, itchy, and neglected as you got home, running a shower immediately and stepping in. 

The water was hot, and the room steamed up faster than you expected. You washed away the fatigue, and you washed away the dirt of a month of cheap motels.. 

Just as you were about to wash away the memories of Spencer Reid and his stupidly skilful tongue, the doorbell rang. 

It wasn't unusual for you to get visitors at 10 pm, but usually they announced themselves. 

You stayed put in the shower. It was probably a package you'd ordered, and it could honestly wait. 

The ringing, though, didn't stop. Whoever was at your door was insistent. First, the door rang to the rhythm of jingle bells. Then, they moved on to Fur Elise. When they got to Flight of the Bumblebees Levels of bullshit, you couldn't stand it anymore. 

You wrapped a towel around you and pulled the door open wide. 

“Sp- mm?” You said, shocked to see him there, but completely floored by his appearance, and more importantly the two hands he'd planted on your cheeks as he pulled you in for a hot, hard, and fast kiss. 

You pushed him off with a hard slap to his face, and stalked further into your apartment, knowing he'd follow closely behind.

You heard the door slam shut as he made to grab you again, but you stayed just out of reach. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“I came because neither of us will move on without this.”

“Oh, you need me so much you won't be able to move on if you don't fuck me?” You scoffed, expecting a sarcastic answer to a sarcastic question. 

“Yes,” he said, and your shock at his earnestness gave him the moment he needed to grab at you again. 

This time, though, the tiny towel that had been holding your dignity in place dropped to the floor as Spencer Reid pinned you against the wall. 

“Already fucking bare and wet for me, how well-behaved.”

“Go fuck yourself!” you said, even as his hands cupped your breasts, grabbing and pulling both of your nipples, making you moan.

“See, your mouth is being a bitch, but your body is being a whore.” 

“Just fuck me won't you? No need to run your mouth.” 

“I think we're finally in agreement on something,” he said, pushing you to your knees. 

“What? Sp-” 

In one quick swoop he released his cock from his pants and wrapped a hand around all of your hair as he slid it down your waiting throat. 

As much as you protested, your mouth was wide open, and your hands wrapped around him just as eagerly. 

Holding your head still, Spencer began to talk as he fucked your throat. 

“There we go. That's exactly how I've needed you for the last month.”

You glared at him as you sank your nails into his thighs, gagging on his cock as he picked up his pace.

With two taps on his leg, you requested a moment, and he quickly pulled his dick out of your mouth. 

You coughed quickly, then spat out all of your accumulated drool before looking up at him. 

Part of you wanted to force him down next to you, to make him taste your cunt the way you'd thought about earlier. The other part, the larger part, was excited about him using you. 

He grabbed his dick and slapped your face with it, returning your earlier hit. He was waiting for you to open up again so he could cum down your throat and leave. 

“Open,” he demanded. 

You didn't comply, but you stuck out your tongue, lapping at his tip slowly as you sat on your hands. He held his breath as you kissed the underside of his shaft, making his way to his balls. You reached them and finally sucked them into your mouth, making sure to look up and make eye contact with him as you toyed with his private place.

He didn't argue or complain. Instead he fisted a hand into your hair and dragged you to your bedroom. 

Divesting himself of his pants and shirt, he sat down and, still on all fours, pushed your face back into his crotch. Perched on the edge of your bed, he held his cock up and served himself to you. 

“Well? Get back to it, Y/N.” 

Your tongue found his cock first as his hands massaged his balls, playing with them gently as you licked all the way to his tip then buried yourself between his asscheeks. You licked at the skin between his ass and balls, you tasted every inch of him, and you grew angry that he still hadn't done this for you. 

Against his wished, you rose and spat on his cock, before squeezing it hard. 

“Spencer, are you going to fuck me or are you just going to ruin my makeup?” 

“You look prettier with spit coating your face than you've looked with any lipstick,” he said as you pushed him down onto the bed and grabbed his cock. 

Straddling his waist, you were surprised he.let you sink down onto his cock without so much as another word. You felt him fill you up, one inch, then another until you sat fully sheathed on top of him. 

And then he flipped you over so he was back in control. 

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered as he pulled out and thrust back in. 

“You wanted me to fuck you, I'm fucking you.”

You wanted to argue but all you could do was moan yes as he set a furious pace, thumb and forefinger pinching your clit as you bucked into him wildly.

You couldn't stand too much of this, knowing that you wanted to at least outlast him. You wanted to tell him how pathetic he was for cumming first, you wanted to gloat that he'd wanted you more, that he couldn't resist breeding your hot wet cunt. You knew any more of this, though, and you would instead be on the receiving end of those same taunts. 

Pushing against his chest, you used the last of your strength to flip him over again. He struggled, though, stronger than you were expecting, and you rolled together like that for a few moments.

You almost went crashing to the floor as he fought for control, but he pushed a foot off the bed and held you up with his lower body strength. The new position though forced his cock deeper, to just the right angle, and when he thrust into you again, you did something you'd never done before during sex. 

You screamed your pleasure. 

Your orgasm ripped through you, as painful as it was pleasurable, and you grabbed Spencer Reid by the neck and forced his tongue to meet yours. 

He couldn't complain, too busy moaning about your hot, wet, and now tighter cunt to worry about whether he should be kissing you. 

He pulled back and picked his pace right back up, but this time, you resisted less. Hooking a hand under your legs, he pressed your legs up, pushing his stomach and chest down just above your own as he moved slower but harder. 

You wondered if this was what other wen talked about when they said they wanted someone to beat their pussy up, to use them until they couldn't stand. You didn't think you could even think about walking again for the next month as he spread your knees apart and pinned them to the bed, unloading his cum as deep inside you as anything had ever been.

You didn't even know your body bent that way. 

Panting, he collapsed on top of you and buried his head in your shoulder, mumbling and muttering to himself as he came down from his ecstasy. 

He didn't pull out. He barely even softened as he kissed across the expanse of your throat, thrusting shallowly with each nip, until your body couldn't take anymore. 

He picked a spot and sucked, and licked and bit and soothed as he ended one round, and began another. 

“Spencer-” you said, gasping as he sat up, his cock once again standing at attention, filling you still. 

“No. Stop. Don't talk, we're not good when we talk.” 

You nodded and pulled him back for another kiss, wrapping a hand around his throat and pressing hard as he moaned and groaned into you. 

Still wet and slippery and sensitive from your first attempt, neither of you lasted long, falling to the bed when it was all over with a grunt of overexertion. 

“That was…” you said, stopping there, for once totally speechless.

“That was good?” He supplied, but just good wasn't enough. 

“Yes,” you agreed, though, not willing to let your cunt rule your mind when around him.

Anymore, at least. 

“We should… we should probably never speak again,” you said, even as your hand reached out for his, fingers tangling. 

“Of course. I'll leave, and we won't ever speak again,” he said, stroking your hand with his thumb, bringing your clasped hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your hand.

“You haven't left yet.” 

“I haven't.”

“I have nowhere to be tomorrow,” you said. “You don't…”

“I won't leave yet. We might as well enjoy this,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked over your naked body. 

“We should definitely just get this out of our systems now. What's the harm in that?” 

“I agree. If we're committing to a one time thing, we might as well go all in.”

“Exactly,” you said. 

“Exactly,” he parrotted.

Exactly a year later, the members of the BAU received invitations in the post to your wedding. Because the both of you had convinced yourself that that one time had never ended and never had need to. 

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 5/14/2024

googled "sample bon mot" in a fit of desperation, considered asking chatgpt to generate me some for 0.2 seconds before the visceral BLEUGH reaction plus remembered that every query is like pouring a 16oz water bottle out on the ground, and figured this series of events would be a better intro than anything else i could come up with

listening

miya folick's Pet Body was off last week's spotify rec playlist. i had liked some individual songs by miya folick (singer/songwriter/alt/indie/dance/electronica) but now i gotta really dive into her discography-- this particular very peppy and upbeat song with dire lyrics is really clicking with me lately as my body overreacts to texas pollen and engages in other known misbehaviors.

the chorus, my god

Proper care and feeding for my pet body

and this verse

I'm just a brain with a pet body Out for a walk until I croak I'm just an ordinary subject In an ordinary book

as my mother used to say, i'm real fuckin sick and tired of being sick and tired!!!

-

reading

ough i need to vacuum. i picked up Mrs Vargas and the Dead Naturalist by Kathleen Alcalá for a dollar last summer bc 0) killer title 1) it was a dollar 2) cool cover 3) autographed 4) endorsed by le guin.

kind of fascinating as an object: weird little lesbian (?) boutique press that's still around, idk ive ever seen a notice about steps they took to ensure the longevity of the physical book before?

i find myself bouncing off latin and south american magical realism a lot bc i am not in those authors’ intended audiences/i do not have the background to fully appreciate them. i have a bachelors of science. and that’s fine bc that’s the point! this is one of the very few times post-college where i caught myself thinking “man i gotta find a class to take about this”.

even if i do not understand the wider cultural context or the real-life figures she obliquely references in many of these short stories (i am convinced the bird-voiced singer is based on a real singer), i do appreciate alcalá’s craft: true short stories, she makes her point and then ends it. the twist in Reading the Road specifically— woof that’s gonna stick with me for a bit. a perfect little o henry twist of the knife. i wanted so badly to link this specific short story but apparently nobody has used it to teach anything and the book itself is not widely available/on the internet archive/etc. u will have to find this story of a roadside fortune teller (who is current on all her business permits) and one day's fortune telling, by yourself perhaps through your library

-

watching

the prisoner, the seventeen episode british sixties tv cult classic. let's yoink the description from wikipedia.

The Prisoner is a British television series created by Patrick McGoohan, with possible contributions from George Markstein.[2] McGoohan portrays Number Six, an unnamed British intelligence agent who is abducted and imprisoned in a mysterious coastal village after resigning from his position.[3] The allegorical plotlines of the series contain elements of science fiction, psychological drama, and spy fiction.

number six shares a lot of traits with my cat philip marlowe, as they are both hell fucking bent on escaping and all attempts to restrain them just sort of train them to be better at the next attempt? as one might expect from a heavily allegorical sixties show, kind of heavy emotional going so im watching an episode every day or two.

why am i watching this? it's free on my library streaming service (and tubi), and i don't have a lot going on. i love one-season cancelled shows, i love Dad Media, unfortunately i was a navy brat and i do love some cloak and dagger shit. i LOOOOVE a fucked up little town and bureaucracy-as-cudgel. i actually came across this when i wishlisted the game We Happy Few back in 2018, another entry in the "creepy little british towns" genre. have yet to play it

-

playing

the cosmology and general backstory of genshin is convoluted as hell (The Gods are real and live in the sky, but some lowercase-g gods are also rulers of the seven nations in-game) but they have been foreshadowing a grand showdown since the very beginning of the game. one player character cannot de- or re-stablize so many regions and engage in so many power struggles without someone taking notice.

i did NOT, however, expect one of the regional god-rulers (purple) to start planning for this divine war in a side cutscene in a seasonal event. a seasonal event around rock n roll rhythm games. absolutely devastated i missed the pink fox lady's rerun right after i had to give my work laptop back and before i got the PC fixed. this game will not run on my iphone 12 for love or money

-

making

bit of a depression hovel situation going on. we are slowly rolling that back tho. finally met my landlord during the HVAC replacement debacle, he said that he bought this apartment in 2009, lived here for ten years, and then his parents lived here for a couple years. i am the first non-family tenant, i think. all of the appliances and fixtures are from 2009. i think the fridge will be the next to go. ANYWAY. i asked him what the deal was with the lack of bathroom vents and HE said when he had an air conditioner put in in 2009 the HVAC guy then assured him he only needed the HVAC vents and closed up the actual vents. which is a load of shit. i am not really excited to live here for another year but i really super can't afford to move and finding an apartment in houston the first time was such a goddamn nightmare. i cannot do three years tho. hopefully something will have changed by august 2025.

i have also, through a special cashback bonus reward on my credit card, a sale, a gift card, and cashing in more cashback money, acquired a cat tree for philip. modeled here by mackie bc we did room swapping again as i was writing this. i cannot be bothered to install curtain tiebacks or properly fold anything, as you can see below

[goldennivoree]

THE MUSE

a Jimin oneshot

Warning: mild smut , mention of domestic violence and self harm.

Jimin’s brand new album was a huge success. His song echoed throughout the world and made his fall in love with him all over again and abducted hearts of millions of new followers who started worshiping him like crazy. Everyday of him was busy in promotions and interviews that never seem to end. Even though he felt tired but he kept his energetic persona in front of the camera giving the audience everything that they wanted.

But in The wake of night once the duvets engulfed him , he couldn’t shrug off the thought of his own song’s two lines…

Is she someone that i c everyday

Is she somewhere a thousand miles away

He was ready to give her the whole world , but where in the world was she ? His heart longed for her love , his soul craved for her soul , his body trembling for her warm touch.

He continuesly felt the need of someone who would embrace him whenever he felt overwhelmed with his success. But where was she ? He kept wondering until he fell asleep hugging a fluffy pillow imagining it to be her. He felt pathetic for doing this but he got no choice.

Finally after all the promotions ended Jimin finally got his much needed rest and space from everyone. With no camera lens following him he went to another country in search of peace. The place was not bustling like Seoul but it was calm and serene and not noisy , just like he wanted.

He was walking on the green grass just outside his small home around 9 pm whenhe heard rustling pf leaves coming from the nearby tree. His curiosity took him near to the sound and before he could look into it , something or someone fell onto him and he fell into the ground with that something or someone on top of him.

‘Watch out’ the voice yelped

Jimins butt was paining due to impact of gravity but the owner of that feminie voice which landed on him was soft as a petal.

‘ im so sorry , so so sorry. My foot slipped , oh my god , are you hurt ? Im so so sorry , she kept on apologising looking at jimin but jimin was speechless. He kept staring at her face awestruck by her beauty.

‘Please speak , are you ok? I should call a doctor. Stay , i will go get him’ she spoke and was about to run but jimin caught her hand.

‘ im fine. ‘ he managed to speak but his insides were getting electrified holding her hand.

‘ thank god, you scared the hell out of me. Please don’t tell my mom i was climbing trees , she’s going to kill me if she knows , please’ her doe eyes gained a chuckle from jimin

‘ I wont tell , but what i will get in return’ he thought of bargaining even though he didnt know who was her mom or where she lived.

‘ uggghhh, what can i give you’ she thought for a few seconds and then pulled out a bright red apple.’ Will this do? I could only find one apple on this tree. Wanna share ?’

‘ sure, come inside , lets eat it together, he took her into his house feeling ecstatic as if he was about to find his WHO.

Few days went by and they came so close to each other. They kept talking and walking around that small village. Both of them eager to know and tell everything to each other.

‘ you are here to stay right? Please tell me you r here to stay.’ She said when thy reached his home and she saw suitcases filled with his clothes

‘ I have to go back tomorrow. I already overstayed and now my company wants me back. Even though I don’t want to go i have to go tomorrow.’ His voice laced up with sadness he looked into her sad eyes and immediately hugged her so tightly

She returned his hug with similar desperation, her hands exploring his back over his shirt. They both embraced each other for the first time amd now none of them wanted to let go. The cold breeze and her touch made his skin tingle and he knew it was now or never. He broke the hug and looked into her eyes and the next moment pressed his lips on to her taking in all the sweetness in them into his mouth. The kiss started as soft and delicate petal but soon turned into a wild storm. Both were so hungry for each other. She pushed him onto the couch and jumped on him without breaking the kiss. His hands went inside her top feeling her smooth and warm skin for the first time. Without wasting a single second he unclasped her bra.

Y/n POV

Being with him for the very first time was igniting my desires and i was getting bolder with every touch of him on my body. I was becoming so wet and i needed his touch so desperately. All i wanted was him to tear off my clothes while i tore his. Seeing him as excited as me wasn’t helping either and I immediately threw my top away when he undid my bra.

Jimins POV

“ you’re so stunning “ I whispered seeing her melons bouncing in front of me as she threw her top away. My hands went to grab those beauties and I squeezed them taking in their softness. Her hard pink nipples were inviting me to suck on them and i obligated their wish. She tastes just like strawberries… I thought to myself. I kept on sucking them while she unbuttoned my shirt. Just when she opened my last button i bit on her nipple making her yelp. I saw lust in her eyes. I grabbed her and pushed her down and now i was above her. I removed my shirt and attacked her neck marking her all over her skin. She was only mine and i was loving stamping her everywhere. My hand traced her neck , chest , stomach and then i pulled up her skirt and slid my hand inside her panty. She was flowing down there

‘ so wet baby ‘ I spoke into her ear and then licked her ear

She didn’t say anything but slipped her hand into my lower and held my member in her hand.

‘ so hard baby’ she mocked me as she started to stroke my dick which was now begging to be freed from my loose cargos.

Her words further pushed me to be fiercer with her. I tore her underwear at once and her eyes widened because of my sudden actions.

Y/N POV

He was always so calm and serene. His nature was like a gentle gust of wind. But here we were tangled up with each other and i was seeing a complete different side of him. Even though it wasn’t required I was still trying to push his buttons and saw his cute smile change into a deadly smirk. My heart skipped a beat when i grabbed onto his hard length. He was as hard as a stone and was so big. I couldn’t have imagined him to be so masculine under those baggy clothes that he always wore. And maybe i pushed a wrong button of his coz he just tore my tiny cloth apart and here i was lying on the couch all nude in front of him as he stared at me longingly.

My pussy was throbbing for his warm touch and it needed more than just his fingers. He stepped down from me and sat on his knees . Then he held me from under my waist and pulled my knees apart ready to go down on me. My eyes closed when he started to kiss my inner thighs. But was he going to give it to me so easily..??? No. He was such a tease. He kissed everywhere but always missing my heat. I could feel him smirking against my legs.

‘ jimin please’ I whispered

‘ please what ? Say it my love .. ask for it and im at your service’ he said making the most innocent face ever.

‘ i want your tongue inside me ‘ i said not making an eye contact with him

He chuckled’ as you say love’ and placed his lips on my pussy . His tongue glided on my core making me shivrr with ecstasy. My hands went into his soft blonde hair as he started to explore my womanhood by going deeper and deeper. He opened my pussy lips using his fingers and started to lick my hole. My moans intensified and my stomach started to feel funny. He was eating me out mercilessly and i was about to cum.

I pushed him away and released myself. It took me few seconds to compose myself and then i pulled him into a deep kiss once again. He stood up and removed his remaining clothes. His member came into my sight.

‘ like what you see’ he said to me and i knew it was my time to return the favour. I got on my knees and kissed him tip which was leaking pre cum.

Jimin’s POV

Seeing a satisfactory look on her face was an accomplishment for me. Knowing that it was me who is making her happy was anoth kind of feeling. I was getting attached to her in so many ways. I realised that I can’t let her go anywhere anymore. She belongs to me and i am only hers. I was still in my thoughts when she pulls me in and kissed me. Damn , I can’t ger enough of these lips. I need to feel her , i need to fill her. Lust overcame me once again and i removed my lower and boxer. Expressions on her face changed when she saw my dick. I guess I scared her. But no … she was ready for me. She knelt down and kissed my tip. Her lips felt as heaven’s kiss. She took my member in her hand and stroked it and before i knew it she put it in her mouth.

Authors POV

few moans escaped Jimins mouth when she started to bob her head as she sucked him off. He grabbed her hair so that they won’t disturb her while she did such a great job of blowing him. it took her few minutes to take whole of his length in her mouth but once she did there was no stopping her. His length touched the back of her mouth making her gag. Jimin got scared and tried to take it oyt from her mouth but she stopped him and continued. Jimin felt the urge to release but he finally pulled it away from her and carried her to the couch and made her lie down once again. He didn’t waste a second and inserted his member into her core in a single push. She screamed because of sudden pain

‘ im so sorry’ he stopped in his tracks and lokked at her with worry.

‘ its ok im fine ‘ ahe smiled and placed a kiss on his lips

Jimin started to stroke very gently letting her adjust.

‘ youre goid to go’ she mumbled

And that was when jimin started to thrust into her trying to reach every spot inside her. Her pussy clenched around his dick and he kept pushing himself in her while his hand’s fondled with her boobs. He then leaned on to her kissing her while her hands roamed on his back digging her fingers in his flesh. Pain mixed with pleasure is such a deadly combination. She once again felt herself about to reach her high.

‘ I’m about to cum again’ she said , her voice shaking

‘ me too , let’s come together’ he spoke breathlessly.

They both came together, her insidez filled with his warm liquid

He pulled out , his dick covered with her waters. They both giggled once jimin lied beside her.

‘ come with me tomorrow.’ He spoke

‘ what ?’ She asked , her voice laced with question marks

‘ come with me to Seoul. It’s impossible for me to stay there without you. Please’ he said intertwining his fingers with hers.

‘ yes. YES. I’d love to come with you. It’s going to be empty here without you anyway.’ She spoke excitedly absolutely thrilled by the idea of going with Jimin.

‘ but there’s just one condition’ he said in a serious tone making y/n worried.

‘ you have to keep sharing your apple with me ‘ he said showing his eye smiles. She nodded ‘ not just apple but everything jiminie’ she cooed.

Soon they were in her house , jimin saw her packing her stuff. The way she trusted him without any second thought made jimin fall for her even more and he understood that both of them were never going to feel alone anymore.

…..the end

[agoodfictitle-shadowban]

From Vormir, With Love - Part 7

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Tags: strangers to lovers, love in space angst on earth, slavery mention, alien abduction, post Endgame, survivor guilt, suicide ideations, will add as we go on

Summary: As you're being chased you crash on Vormir. So far, so bad. But things take a turn when you come face to face with a marooned Black Widow.

Word count: 2k

A/n: this is a short chapter but it's worth it

After the short conversation you had with Natasha, it feels insensitive to bring up how you felt to her. You don't want to put her in a position where she ever thinks she could lose your newfound bond. So you just suck it up. You welcome every small touch and every gesture, the simple hand at the small of your back to the cuddles in bed as you are falling asleep. It's both your personal hell and heaven wrapped into one. It leaves you feeling confused, but happy with the proximity you share. And that is of course until the barbecue comes.

That week-end is luckily a beautiful one; you can wear anything from a summer dress to a simple short and t-shirt. As you're dressing, you realize Natasha is coming as your date. Of course you already knew, but now that it's D Day, it's really hitting you and you start to panic slightly. All your questions without answers come back to you. Why did she offer when there was no need for a date, what did she mean by it, is she truly your date, what does it mean for your relationship? The questions swirl around until you're sitting at the edge of the bed you've been using, a panic attack ready to swallow you at any time. But before it can hit, someone is knocking at your door and not waiting for an answer to come in. There, standing in front of you, is Tim, in all his feline grace, looking fabulous in his relaxed outfit, but also about to shatter into pieces. You're immediately alert to his state and put aside what you're going through.

"I can't go to your… bar-beuh-queue. I can't."

"Wait, what? Why not. You seemed really excited at the prospect of free meat." You pat the spot next to you so he would sit down instead of pacing around. He immediately sits and the bed cracks slightly under him.

"And I was but you also said there were going to be many humans."

"Yes? But you've been fine here so far."

"It's not the same!" He roars at you and you frown. He sheepishly looks at his paws. "Sorry."

You shake your head. "You'll be fine. If anything they'll love you. Believe me. Plus you won't be alone there, and you can hide in my childhood bedroom." It couldn't be worse than when you came out anyway. Good thing your relationship with your parents had had time to heal before you got abducted.

"You promise?"

You nod.

"I promise."

"Thank you."

"Oh, I should thank you. I was having my own meltdown before you arrived." You laugh it off, but his curious glance has you sighing before you explain. "I'm just not sure where I stand with Natasha."

"Next to each other?" He asks, not really understanding your doubts. He makes it sound so easy. "You're mate, yes?"

"I… don't really know. We haven't discussed that."

"No discussion necessary. I can smell it. Your scents intertwined."

This makes you smile. Not only does he make it sound easy, he also makes it sound true. Somehow it appeases you for when you'll have that discussion with Natasha.

"Not how it works with humans, but I'll keep that in mind. Now come on. It's time to go."

He nods, and the bed creaks even when you stand up now. 

You're finally ready to face the day.

*

It takes two cars to bring everyone to your parents' place, and a good five seconds for your mother to realize she invited aliens into her house.

"You should have told me!" She whispers to you frantically. "I would have researched what they eat and made it!"

"First, that's sweet, second, do you think there is a website out there with aliens recipes?" You ask, on the verge of laughing uncontrollably.

"There isn't?!"

"I doubt it."

And from there, she makes it a goal to get recipes from your new friends.

"Your mom seems very special," comments a deeply amused Natasha while you show her the way to the garden with everyone else. "Not as terrifying as you painted her."

"That's because she doesn't know you came as my date yet," you smile teasingly, your heart ready to burst when you say it out loud. Not that you have the time to explore the meaning of it all as you enter the garden where half your family awaits all of you. The event quickly takes over you and you go socialize with everyone, people you haven't seen in the past five years, some still looking the same and some looking older. The barbecue quickly turns into a celebration of all the people who came back, and you get a few drinks pushed into your hands without needing to ask for them. Before you know it, your head is light with happiness and alcohol, and you're sitting next to Natasha having the time of your life, your hand lazily dropped around her shoulders. She's clearly comfortable with the contact, even leaning into it as you talk with one of your now almost adult cousins about your adventures in space.

"I need to go to the restroom, I'll be right back," she whispers in your ear at some point and you nod, eyes on her as she leaves.

"You're super lucky!" Your cousin exclaims, and you look back at them with a tilt of the head in questioning. "She's a superhero, so I never imagined she'd date anyone but she seems super sweet."

You blink once, twice, and it finally dawns on you. Your cousin thinks Natasha is your girlfriend. "Oh, you think that… I mean. We're not– she's not–" you fumble and your cousin gets the message.

"Are you sure?" They ask, confused.

"I mean, she came here as my date but it doesn't mean, you know."

Your cousin stares blankly at you. "Dude. Does she know? Do you know? Because you were acting really close."

Your cousin was on your case now too? You thought only June noticed your infatuation but apparently anyone in the vicinity could see it if even your cousin did. You decide to extract yourself from the situation and stand up.

"You know what, she's taking really long so I'm just gonna go check on her."

"Sure buddy," your cousin chuckles with no respect.

You quickly make your way towards the house and once inside, you take a deep breath. That sure was a callout. You decide to forget about it and focus on what you came to do, looking for Natasha. You go to the first floor bathroom and knock on the door, only for it to open on your surprised uncle.

"It's free, but I would wait if I were you," he tells you before he leaves. You wrinkle your nose. Ew.

You take a few steps back and wonder where Natasha could be. She probably went to look for another bathroom, which would be upstairs. When you arrive on the second floor, you quickly notice that the door to your bedroom is open. You frown, before you approach the room when you see a shadow moving inside.

On your guard, you take a peek before you enter the room, only to breathe a sigh of relief. A very short one when you realize that Natasha is in your childhood bedroom. You push the door slightly more to finally enter the room.

"Unless I'm sorely mistaken, this isn't a restroom," you point out with derision. She rolls her eyes and smirks, focusing on you instead of the photographs on the wall.

"It isn't, but my instincts kept telling me I might find some treasure here." She grabs one of the photos and shows it to you. "And I was right!"

It's an old picture of when you were a kid wearing a mismatched outfit with some old friend. You groan and try to snatch the picture out of her fingers, with no success. Between the alcohol and Natasha being a super spy, you stand no chance. Still, you're not giving up. You corner Natasha against your bed, and before you know it, you both fall over on top of it. On top of her.

Your first reflex is to apologize, but the words stay stuck in your throat when you notice how close to her face yours is. Your eyes are focused on hers, the blue entrancing you, until her breath on your lips brings another reality to you.

"I– huh– I'm sorry," you vaguely manage before you feel her hand caress your arm up to the nap of your neck.

"Why don't you show me exactly how sorry you are?" She proposes in a sultry voice and your heart stops, your breathing suddenly hard, and harder even when her other hand navigates between the both of you to find your belly.

Your brain completely stops and leaves you only with your screaming instincts, and her command. So you finally do something you wanted to do for a long, long time, and lean closer until your lips connect. As it happens, it feels like a wave of relief courses through you, like the last five years were worth it to be able to kiss Natasha, and more importantly, have her kiss you back.

The hand on your neck grip grows stronger as your kiss gets more passionate. You tilt your head further when you feel her tongue pass over your lips in demand and give her access without an ounce of hesitation. It feels good when your tongues meet in your mouth in a precise dance that leads you to moan, and again when her other hand caresses the back of your thigh, up to your ass. She gives it a squeeze that makes you melt. Something she takes advantage of. With a simple twist of her hips, she exchanges your positions so she can be on top of you. You look up at her in awe at her beauty, at the cascading red and blonde hair, at her bright eyes and swollen lips. 

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she states as she admires you too - you can see it in the way her eyes seem to caress your skin, trace your features, and get lost in your eyes.

"Me too," you admit with no shame whatsoever, her lips growing in a gorgeous smile. You lean up to give her a quick kiss. "But we need to go back, before they send someone to find us."

She gives you a quick kiss in turn, one that makes you long for more, but you restrain yourself while she stands up. You sit up in turn and adjust your clothes quickly so no one can suspect what just happened. As you do so, you notice Natasha stopped in her tracks to check her phone and concern is plastered on her face. She turns to you.

"We need to go."

[azurlily]

Day 6 of 31 of the yandere month May challenge. This yandere is extremely creepy in the sense that it's sort of non-con, but not at all at the same time. I also think Sevika is naturally a very intense almost yandere, so this isn't like the others. You'll see.

Also a reminder to everyone this is the last month you can request a specific type of reader for free. After this month it becomes commission work. Ask any questions in either DM or on my asks/requests.

Sevika gets pissed when you go out on a mission with Jinx. She teaches you how to obey orders.

Yandere!Sevika SMUT

There are many dumb things that you can do in your lifetime. Stealing from someone important, lying about your job details, and worst of all pissing Sevika.

How did this even happen? Well you and Jimx have been getting more buddy buddy. So...why not go up to Piltover with her?

You told Sevika about your plans, she insisted you stay home. You told her it wasn't a big deal, and that it'd be good for you and Jinx to get along.

"No, and that's final. Your aren't going anywhere princess, so don't even try. Besides, you're in better condition, and our relationship has been doing better. Let's not ruin it."

Sevika and you had been fighting these past couple months. She wouldn't apologize for taking you from your house suddenly. She said it was just because she wanted fo see you. It took about 2 weeks for her to apologize and when she did, it wasn't very conventional. For her at least.

"Yes- flowers. They're yours, I-uh. I apologize."

That's all she told you before forcing you into a hug. Sevika only apologizes once in a blue moon. The apology ended in sex, of course.

Anyway, she gave you a bad vibe when she looked at you like that. Sevika for the life of herself would never hurt you, but she would intimidate. Sevika loving you basically secures you safety.

You fought with her saying that Jinx isn't a child and that neither are you. You both can do what you want. She rolled her eyes and slapped you ass.

"Mhm, you ain't a kid, but you act as stupid as one. Now, no going with her, I'm serious."

You asked her why and she kissed you on your forehead and left. You didn't get an answer and now you were frustrated. So, of course, knowing it'll blow up in your face later.

You and Jinx were almost caught. You got grazed by multiple bullets, and were in a good bit of pain. You were in a lot of pain, and Jinx felt like an ass for taking you with her.

When you two got back Jinx was teln by Silco for a "short" lecture. You laid on the bed Sevika and you share when you come over.(or when she abducts you) She came in about an hour later, she'd thought she was getting a small moment of peace.

"Oh- you're back. Listen about earlier with the whole Jinx thing. I'm not gonna say it, but I'll take you out- HOLY SHIT!"

She stood there for a second, trying to figure out- what the hell happened? It took her a minute and then it hits her. You fucking idiot.

Sevika thinks about how badly you're hurt, obviously there had to be more than one person. This was more than likely a surprise attack, which was cowardly and not something she was all into.

She imagined for a second the blood she's going to have on her hands later. It's going to be a lot, she intends to bathe in it. How dare some Piltover scum hurt you!?

She doesn't say anything and stares at you for a moment. She turn around and leave the room, only to come back with bandages.

Sevika gives you a cold stare and forces you up. She knows it hurts, as it should. She's pissed, and you dealing with the pain is her way of saying fuck you without opening her mouth. She refused to talk while fixing you up, she knows if the did the only words she'll be saying are: who and why?

She watches you wince and whimper, she sees you eyes glaze over in tears and watches as you shake in pain.

"It hurts, dont it? Well good. Now you know why I didn't want you going out with Jinx, she's a damned trouble maker."

Sevika was finally able to say something without straight up yelling. She watches your reactions, sees the fear, anger, embarrassment, and finally you start to cry.

She watches you cry for a good second, she moves you robotic arm up and pats your head. Then she grabs your hair and tilts your head up roughly.

"I try, I really do, but you seem really intent on pissing me off. So, this behavior needs to be punished. I'm giving you the choice on the punishment, it's easier for me. You have two choices, overstimulation or edging."

You groan as her mechanical hand squeezes your hair. Sevika is enjoying this, and evidently so are you. You choose overstimulation, it's better than being denied. At least you get what you want, even if you get too much of it.

Sevika stands up, putting the bandages down and looking at you with a glare. You know the drill, and in situations like these it's best not to brat off. You begin to undress, keeping your underwear and bra on. Sevika likes to take those two peices of clothing off specifically.

You watch her flex her mechanical arm, giving you a disgustingly smug smile.

"Lay back."

You lay back, putting your arms over your eyes. You feel cool metal run up and down your thighs. A second, warm hand unclasps your bra from me front/back. She didn't need to see her to see the smug look. She knows just how to handle you.

"Hands up, I want you to watch."

You do as Sevika commands and move your arms above your hands. She warns if you try to stop her she will tie you up. Her mechanical hand slowly rubs your thighs, she grips it roughly. Deep red marks starting to form. You look at her, tears in your eyes.

"Nuh uh, I don't wanna see them tears. You have brought this upon yourself, so lay back and- safeword. If...you need to."

Sevika pulls your thighs apart, opening them widely. Her warmer hand moved from groping me to rubbing on my thighs. She lowers her head, pressing it against my thigh. She hums quietly, you can feel the vibrations, shaking slightly you look down at her.

Her eyes are a beautiful, silvery grey, you couldn't stop staring. She notices and gives you thighs a tight squeeze, the smirk never once fading.

"My, my, my, you're shaking. I wonder, are you as exited down there too? Well? Are you slut?"

Sevika doesn't hold back on the insults, maybe the praise, but she loves to degrade you. Sevika runs her mechanical finger up and down your panties, the wetness and slicks becoming more apparent.

She growls, oh god. Sevika, no longer being able to take it, practically tears your panties off. She originally intended to come home and take you out, then she'd probably end up fucking your brains out in some alleyway in Piltover. She's been pent up all day thinking about it. Now she can fully relax, and take good action on you.

Sevika moves her head until her face is just hover over your pussy. You groan and whimper when she doesn't start. You didn't agree to be teased, dammit! That's why you chose this option!

"Oh hush. You'll get what you want, princess."

God that nickname turns you on, plus feeling her hot breath against you only makes things worse. You grind you hips up trying, hoping, to get some sort of friction. When Sevika slaps you thigh, hard enough to leave a mark. You know to stop, for not at least.

Finally Sevika herself is tired of waiting too, she presses her tounge into you. The way you squirm, feeling her hot, long tounge tear you open. It does something to her, in a way you will never understand.

She grabs both of your thighs, pulling you so you're hips are right on her face. You wrap your legs around her head, squeezing harshly as she eats you out. Sevika goes from small licks, to sucking on your clit, to pushing her tounge inside you. She does everything she can to hear you scream, and scream you do.

How can you not? This woman is skilled with her tounge in every way, she knows just how to tease you, and just how to make you cum in minutes. That's exactly what she's aiming for now, she wants to see your freshly fucked face, as soon as possible.

Sevika doesn't pull back when you begin rocking your hips, on the contrary. She tries pulling you closer, although you can't really get any closer. As you're stomach begins to tighten and your breathing begins to quicken. You both know what's coming, you, to be more specific.

As you feel piping hot bliss rush over you, you shake and spasm. Sevika doesn't let up though. No, in fact she continues as your orgasm begins to slowly die down. That's when the fun really starts.

Sevika can feel you fighting, slapping, pushing hitting. She said not to use your hands, but she knows you cant help it. You're a dumb slut, and sluts don't know how to think. Especially not you.

You start grabbing and pulling on Sevikas hair, you knew this was the outcome. Didn't stop you from acting like you were innocent. Doesn't matter anyway, the more you push, and pull, and bite. The more fun Sevika is having. You can practically feel her grinning.

You scream and cry, feeling yourself build up once more. Your hips spasming uncontrollably, your entire body was shaking. You knew it was only a matter of time before you came for the second time. After that she'd keep going until you passed out.

You really are stupid, but that's okay. Sevika always cleans up your messes, and after she finishes up with you. She's heading to Piltover to rip some heads off, she might even bring you a souvenir.

[skyefullofdaisies]

I wish I had any writing talent whatsoever

I have these two ideas that are barely anything, lol, but if I had any writing prowess I think they could be good.

1. Aziraphale has been The Supreme Archangel for anywhere between 2-3 years. He is very good at the job. To the shock, and fear, of the other archangels and even The Metatron. He rules with an absolute iron fist. He tolerates no disrespect. His kindness is still there but it’s under a layer of ice. This is what being robbed of Crowley, and being forced back to Heaven against his wishes, has done. (It’s OOC for him, I know. I don’t actually think in the show he or Crowley would be robbed of their base personalities without the other but it’s fan fiction, so…🤷‍♀️). He’s been watching Crowley from Heaven however. Just to have some piece of him. Until Crowley disappears completely one day. Az goes to earth and can’t find a trace of him. He even checks Heaven over to make sure Crowley wasn’t abducted & being held there. Aziraphale, who is angry and tired of being without his demon, knows there’s only one other place he’d be: Hell.

During the time Aziraphale has been in Heaven word of his iron fist rule has gotten to Hell. Who have been, quietly, panicking. They laughed at first hearing of the “soft” Angel being made Supreme Archangel. Figuring he’d be The Metatron’s puppet for The Second Coming. Just for The Dark Council (using their back channels) to realize how wrong they are. So they decided they needed a plan. Given who is important to Aziraphale they go after Crowley. The members of the Dark Council knew Crowley when he was an angel. They remember he was powerful (I know we don’t know his identity but for the sake of this story he’d have been someone very powerful before The Fall) and acknowledge that if Crowley wanted he could be a Duke of Hell, easy. If he put any effort whatsoever in being an actual Demon Hell would have had a powerful weapon.

The Dark Council abducts Crowley and tells him this. Our demon scoffs and goes through his usual bravado before realizing he can’t get out of this. Miracle blocked and bound to a table he is forced to drink water from the River Lethe. Unconscious and robbed of his memories for the last 6,000 years Crowley has new memories forced into his head (no idk how they would do this, I’m not a writer remember lol).

Aziraphale arrives in Hell in all his The Supreme Archangel splendor. Dagon meets him not the least little bit impressed. Az demands to know where Crowley is, if Hell has him. Dagon says that falls under the jurisdiction of their Prince. Az demands a meeting expecting Beezlebub’s replacement while a bad feeling niggles at the back of his head. They enter the throne room just to have the new Prince of Hell on his throne be Crowley much to Aziraphale’s shock and horror knowing Crowley would never agree to this. It doesn’t take Aziraphale long at all to realize Crowley’s memories are gone and the ones he does have are wrong. Crowley believes he’s been Prince of Hell since The Fall. Azriaphale has no choice but to leave Crowley where he is for the time being. As he’s still his suave, charming self but there’s a cruelty that has never been there before and he loathes all angels. He’s certainly not about to trust the new Supreme Archangel.

That’s as far as I’ve got. Somehow this would lead to Aziraphale bringing Crowley back to himself. A fabulous kiss and smutty times. Lead to the defeat of The Second Coming and the two of them in love and together in the end.

Thanks for reading this far if you have! I have another idea I’ll write up and post. This one is already too long to add it here