#trying my best though and fingers crossed one of these agents will be the one!!! 🙏🙏

[princesskealie]

taking my mom to the doctor again tomorrow~ please send any good vibes/prayers/thoughts her way that all goes smoothly! 🙏🙏

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ WILD THING ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: filming a masterpiece came easy to you, despite how weak the material you were given to work with was. having to do it with someone you harbored such hate for is proving to be a little difficult. but she can simmer your spite with just a touch, can't she?

warnings: 70s au, 18+, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, sexual tension (??), mentions about the porn industry, pornstar!ellie, mentions of weed, weed usage, not proof-read

a/n: yet another reupload, haven't written an updated piece for ellie in a while but i just might after bringing back a shit ton of old works sitting in the drafts for you all to enjoy again ;)

“When I tell you that this is the best script to ever come into my hands, I mean it. But, all I’m saying is that we need some slight adjustments.” 

Glancing at the man in front of you, the twinge of hope that had developed within you just last week seemingly diminished, snuffed out with wet finger pads. You leaned back into the velvet red of the tiny seat, licking the top row of your pearly teeth, watching with low-lidded eyes as he waved his thick hands around — emphasizing how much he meant what he said. 

The sheen of sweat running down his forehead proved how harsh the heat was. More unbearable than usual as of late as the sun beamed with an orange hue through the glass pane of one of the many windows in the sizable van, mugginess forming in a thick cloud — mixing with the smoke from the lit joint between your ringed fingers. 

You crossed a leg over the other, the denim of your bell bottoms rubbing together, uncomfortably sticking to the bare skin beneath from the humidity. Guiding your fingers toward your mouth, you inhaled, listening to the crackle of the van radio as ‘White Room’ by Cream filled the tensed silence, happy toxins filling your cool mouth — the odd flavor combining with the peppermint gum that once twirled on the sides of your cheeks.

Humming, you shrugged. “Like what? Having a man fuck me instead of a woman?”  

A sheepish look came across his features, signaling that your words had made him just a tad disagreeable. You had to bite back the scoff that tried to force its way out of your mouth, shaking your head from side to side dramatically before pointing a manicured finger in his direction.

“You already know the type of shit I do, Paul.” The amused smile that painted your lips was once laced with malice. “I thought we were on the same page when you agreed to be my agent.” 

Paul was a bitter man. Then again, when aren’t men in general upset? Truthfully, you should’ve walked away from him the second you found his disgusting eyes raking up and down the expanse of your smooth legs, alcohol and a wrong impression exuding from his pores, violently washing over you in waves. He tried to chat you up but his words faltered when your eyes narrowed, the annoyance radiating off of your being at his very presence. 

As politely as you could, you told him to go fuck off — will all the disrespect in the world, of course. Eventually, he relented, but not before sliding a withered, folded paper card in your hands before leaving you to wallow alone. But alas, here you were, in the back of a fogged van on your way to film pornography. 

He put his palms up in defense, the buttons of his shirt halfway undone, giving you a visible view of curly chest hair in all its glory. Lifting the right corner of your lip, you grimaced, noting the way he frowned as soon as he saw your pained expression.

Sighing, he clapped his warm, sweaty palms together, figuring it’d be worth a shot to try once more. “I’m just putting my input out there, and -”

You interjected. “Where it isn’t needed. Thank you though.”

Narrowing his eyes, Paul waited until you sunk back into your seat, heaving out a heavy sigh before dragging a hand down his sweaty face. “Look, I know what I said about letting you do your thing with women, it’s what you’re comfortable with. But you’re audience is mainly men.” 

Bouncing your leg, you huffed, diverting your gaze to stare at something else other than him. Your nose hairs burned slightly from the scent and the stuffiness of the small area despite the small open window, it was suffocating. “Something I didn’t ask for. I do what I do for women.” 

“Obviously, but that’s not how they see it. They’re never going to see it that way. Might as well make money off of it … with someone like your audience.”

 Although he had a point, there was a part of you that could never give up on the very limited amount of queer women who enjoy what you do for their pleasure. You had once been in their shoes, scared of the consequences of touching yourself to the thought of women, guilt weighing down on your shoulders so heavily that you felt as if everyone had known exactly what you were into. It was something you had always been so cautious about — glancing at a pretty girl the wrong way, to bat your eyelashes at them as you so desperately wanted. 

The women you had been with had left you with empty sheets, and an even emptier heart, not ready to come to terms with the fact that you were exactly what they liked and not clean-shaven faces and strong-scented cologne. He was right. But, that’s not something you were willing to take with a grain of salt, nor give in like he so desperately wanted.

You took a long drag of the burning paper, reaching forward to snuff it out in the nearby ashtray on the floor before ultimately shaking your head side to side, tendrils of hair falling in front of your face, escaping the small bun you had created at the top of your head earlier. “I’ll take the risk and keep whoever’s filming with me.” 

Paul pursed his thin lips, poking his tongue out from in between to moisturize the dry flesh before nodding curtly, “Okay,” He sighed. “I guess we’re keeping Ellie.” 

At that, your eyebrows furrowed, the skin between them folding as you grew confused. The cogs in your head were overheating — and not just from the scorching heat. Paul knew your resentment toward the auburn-haired girl. Her freckled face sends the flesh of your lips to curl over your teeth in disgust for reasons unknown to everyone but you. It was a tension that always stuck like the strongest glue, hard to scrub off no matter how hard you tried.

 There was just something about her that made your heart fill with a type of emotion that you couldn’t decipher as something other than anger and spite. 

Ellie Williams.

The one person you seemingly weren’t able to get along with no matter how hard you tried. From the handful of small interactions you’ve had with the girl, she’s curt. A little bit of a bitch if anything but then again, so were you. Maybe that’s why the two of you were always going at it, words of hatred being spewed back and forth, metaphorically pushing one another’s chest, trying to see who could take things to a burning point, letting it boil over like a pot full of water on high heat. 

“I see that look on your face, mellow out.” 

You hadn’t noticed the way your nostrils were flared, the way your chest was rising up and down at a rapid pace, your breathing uneven and your hands balled into fists on either side of you. Closing your eyes, you opened your mouth to take a deep breath, letting the stale air fill your lungs before you exhaled, trying to center yourself. 

“I’m neat. Just lost my cool for a second there.” 

You glanced out the window next to him, your eyes darting to focus on any ounce of color you could spot behind the thin layer of dust that coated the outside glass. Taking in the stream of green grass that stretched as the van moved along the road, you sniffed. Paul followed your gaze, turning his torso to join your small viewing party of one. 

The rest of the ride was silent, the only sound reaching your ears, for the time being, was the quiet hum of the radio, the occasional squeak of the van when the driver would brake, and the silent mumbles that came from Paul’s mouth as he muttered quietly to himself. 

It wasn’t an ideal situation for you — having just Paul to guide you through an industry you knew only a handful about. Although the money was decent, you were thriving to achieve more with your life, looking at the porn industry as a last alternative to solve every problem that arose at every corner, chasing you down to tackle you, to beat you to a pulp. 

In a way, the green that would make its way into your greedy hands wasn’t going directly into your pockets. Instead, it was being handed to doctors at the local hospital for your mother’s care, as she had been diagnosed with some sort of terminal illness. Oh, how you loved her dearly, having been raised behind motel walls, the rent was barely paid, saltine crackers being shoved into your mouth ravenously, and inexpensive water being guzzled down your throat due to how thirsty you’d be.

 As you became older and your hair grew longer, the idea that your mother had tried everything she could with you carried on into everyday occurrences as you found yourself coming home with less than needed. It wasn’t until your friend, Jean, had come into your home, a joint and a bottle of Mateus Rose being shared between the two of you as you sat in the expanse of your small, crowded living room that you realized just how serious she was about what she was saying. 

“I know a couple of these fellas down in the city, they’re easy to convince if you bat your eyelashes a little.” She had said it as if it was the simplest thing in the world, and it was. Just for all the wrong reasons. After that, she moved somewhere deep in the valleys of Los Angeles and you haven’t heard from her since. You supposed she was doing well for herself though, having seen her in the papers a couple of weeks ago on your way to the designated filing studio for the day, stepping backward in your heeled boots, grabbing it from the stand much to the dismay of the man who was selling them. 

You were surprised, to say the least, eyes scanning across the big, bold black print. She had gotten herself in the papers for all the wrong reasons, destroying everything she had built for herself in the blink of an eye as soon as she had cheated on her millionaire husband with an even more rich, married man. You remembered the way your eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion and the ‘o’ your jaw had dropped into, the cigarette in your hand long forgotten and burning between your fingers. 

You couldn’t help but feel bad for her, your chest hurting at that path that she had chosen for herself although you weren’t one to judge considering what you were doing for money wasn’t proper either. She was on a better lane than you, trading her dingy apartment for a nice typical picket fence house in the hills, her handmade craft bracelets for pearls, and her bell bottoms for posh dresses. All that aside, she was a nice girl. 

The van came to a harsh stop, jolting forward just enough that it made you shift in your seat, and it was then that you paid special attention to the knot that had formed in your stomach. The uncomfortable feeling caused your face to scrunch up, the expression disappearing as soon as Paul looked in your direction with a smile on his stupid fucking face. 

“You ready, kid?” 

Shrugging, you licked your lips, cocking your head to the side before heaving a dramatic sigh, “I guess so.” 

Rolling his eyes, Paul nodded his head toward the doors of the van, silently telling you to join him in the outside world, figuring that fresh air would do you some good and ease the nerves along with the high you were experiencing. As the doors opened from the other side, the hairs on your arms raised from the slight breeze that the warm air brought, the sun glowing directly into your eyes, causing you to squint. 

Bringing your hands up to cover your face, you breathed out through your nose, blinking rapidly once — twice, the strain that had formed due to the light difference created a dull throb to go along with it. 

“Are you fucking serious, Jeff?” Once that voice reached your ears, you raised your head and immediately came face to face with the one person you were dreading to even glance at. She looked good, that was something you couldn’t deny. The glowing daylight behind her created a halo that made her short auburn hair shine just a little brighter, the freckles on her skin more visible in the Wyoming sun.

The expression that swirled in her green eyes wasn’t something you had the opportunity to decipher as she had turned away from you in an instant. 

Your eyes shamelessly roamed down what part of her chest was visible to you, noticing the white, collared button-down she wore; the first couple of buttons undone leaving her collarbone exposed, a thin layer of sweat forming between her sternum. Loose, boot-cut jeans hugged her hips. Her fingers looped through the belt holes causing the tucked shirt to ruffle slightly, a wrinkle embedding itself into the fabric.

Interacting with her was inevitable and you internally slapped yourself for letting something so stupid bounce across your brain. You were making an adult film with her after all. 

“Jeez, it’s just me, no need to get yourself wet.” She glanced back at you momentarily before averting her gaze once more, leaving you to narrow your eyes as you slid out of the van, stretching your legs. 

You bit back a groan at the sensation of releasing all the built-up tension and ache from sitting for so long, having come from Montana to Jackson, a grueling six-and-a-half-hour drive. The fresh air was nice, so you basked in every second of it before you would have to return to an inside setting again. 

The thought of it sent your mind reeling again, the small pang of nervousness creeping back up onto you in the form of an itch on your elbow that you scratched with your short fingernails, the skin there dry and in desperate need of hydration. 

“I’m not starting with you.” She stated, voice gruff and low as she tapped one of her polished, black pointed-toe boots on the dry dirt beneath her, the leather creasing as she did so with a cigarette in between her right fingers. You could tell she was growing annoyed, and a devious smirk tugged at the corners of your lips before you plucked it out of her fingers, putting it toward your lips to take a drag. 

From your peripheral vision, you could see her point the flesh of her lips in a frown, shaking her head slightly. It took you a fraction of a second to decide that starting a conversation with her wasn’t what you wanted to do, especially watching the way Jeff, her manager, interacted with yours, his jaw tense and teeth grinding together behind his thin lips. The sky was getting darker, the bright blue that was there mere moments ago being stained with a salmon pink, a tinge of sherbet orange below the horizon. The grass around the property was short, thriving with life, and as green as ever with different arrays of flowers, colorful and swaying in the wind.

It felt peaceful, and serene almost until the thought of what you were here for jumped out at you. 

Tapping the butt of the cigarette, you ashed it, watching as it fell an inch away from your boot, pulling it to the entrance of your lips before taking another drag, and exhaling loudly. 

Swaying slightly from side to side, Ellie watched as Paul and Jeff continued to argue, turning to you, waiting until you cocked your head in her direction at her outstretched palm. 

“What?”

She pointed a ringed finger at half of the stick still in your grasp. “Since we’re sharing now apparently, at least let me take a couple of drags too.” 

Huffing, you extended it out to her, snatching your hand back across your chest once she took it from you. “You don’t have a pack of your own?”

“Obviously not or the thought of taking yours would’ve never crossed my mind.”  Running a hand through your hair, you felt the warmness of your tongue against your bottom lip as you licked the layer of dry skin there. The silence that followed after was thick, suffocating almost until you decided with the last shred of dignity you had. “So, what’d you think of the script?”

Turning your body in her direction, you quickly scanned her up and down, taking in the way she shrugged in response before inhaling again. “It was alright, nothing worth getting excited over. Can’t expect much when it’s written by who it’s written by.”

Raising your eyebrows, you silently agreed by nodding your head, knowing exactly what she meant without her having to say too much. Troy, the man who wrote the majority of your scripts, was a creep. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that most of the men in this line of work were as weird as could be, especially when working with women such as yourself who found comfort in the arms of another woman and not a man. 

“Yeah, It didn’t make much sense but no one’s watching for the plot, I guess.” 

Ellie snorted, flicking the cigarette on the ground, snuffing it out with the sole of her shoe, and rubbing at the back of her neck with a hand after. “Yeah.” She nodded, looking off into the distance for a couple of seconds before scanning your face, her gaze lingering on your lips a little too long before they moved again. 

Standing without a word being spoken was the most comfortable silence you had ever felt in a while, so you took the peace to your advantage, your rapid heart slowing down its pace the longer you stood next to her, the wind carrying the scent of pine and cigarettes from her clothing into your nostrils, exciting your nose hairs.

The sound of soles crunching beneath stray rocks and rubble caused you to look up at Jeff and Paul through your lashes, observing how they looked at each other and then back at you. 

Clapping his hands together, Jeff pointed his thumbs over his shoulders, gesturing to the lone house on the land, his brown eyes bouncing between the two of you. 

“Okay, let’s start filmin’.” Turning on his heel, he extended the distance between you three, leaving you to catch follow quickly, the lids of your eyes shutting slowly before fluttering open again. Walking through the wide door, you found three other people gathered around a patterned sofa, their talking coming to a pause as soon as you had walked through the frame of the front door, Ellie right behind. Arnold, the cameraman seemed to be everywhere, and he was a bit of a creep if you were being honest but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. You’ve had your fair share of men being openly odd, sparking weariness within you, and raising bright red flags. Jared was the sound guy, a ribbon microphone practically always glued to the tips of his fingers every time you saw him — and that was often. 

Arnold was the first one to speak, his dark eyes swirling with happiness, a haze of drunkness in them as well. Figures. “Never thought I’d see the day where the two of you were close willingly.” 

Wiggling a finger at you and Ellie, he balanced his camera in another hand, the sound of the door shutting grasping his attention momentarily, zeroing in on Ellie when he had focused again. 

When he had opened his shit-hole of a mouth again, you had tuned him out, eyes locking onto the hardwood beneath your shoes as he explained the little plot of the short movie. Ellie was to play the ‘man of the house’ as Troy had called it, and you were the stunning wife of course, having to cook a pretend dinner and prep the dining table for a romantic night for two before the stares and touches grew heavy with need. The sex scene would take place on the island countertop in the kitchen after you had finished washing dishes. 

Filming was difficult, with time being lost from the handful of times that you and Ellie had bickered about hand placements and the way you were supposed to feverishly lock lips, which had everyone in the room in a sour mood, the negativity spreading within you as Ellie had kissed you harshly during one scene, knocking her front teeth into yours. You had yanked your head back, running your tongue across your left tooth as it throbbed slightly, not intending to shove her as far as you did, and of course, that action elicited a bunch of curses from her and a small ‘fuck, I’m sorry it was an accident.’

In hindsight, your response should’ve been a little more respectful considering that she had apologized but as she put her lips to the skin of your neck, right below your ear, it swirled out of your mind, the words that rose out of your throat being a jumbled mess of moans as she sucked at a certain spot. 

The dull throb between your thighs made you wrap your legs around her waist, creating more friction as the material of her jeans rubbed deliciously against your clothed clit. If there was one thing about Ellie that you were certain of, it was that she knew how to touch a woman, to get them flustered, to have them writhing under her touch, to make them want more.

“So beautiful. Why are you sittin’ all shy, baby?” It was as if everyone else in the room had disappeared, disintegrating into thin air, the camera a couple of feet away from you forgotten as you stared at her, chest rising and falling quickly as your heart started to beat rapidly against your ribcage. Whether that was part of the script or not was something that crossed your mind for a couple of seconds as you stared at her lips, shaking your head a moment after.

“M’ not shy.” 

Grabbing the apples of her cheeks with the palm of your hands, you cupped her face, bringing her lips closer to yours once more, your hot breath mixing with hers as you desperately clutched the back of her shirt into your fingers, knuckles growing white as your nails clawed crescent shapes into her back.

Ellie hummed against you, pulling her head back, a string of saliva stretching between the both of you before she wiped at it with the back of her hand, the way she held eye contact the whole time causing you to rub your thighs together. “Mhm, not shy but very eager.”

It was a low whisper that brought the hairs on your arms to raise slowly, the warm feeling of her fingers tapping the fat of your thighs evoking a small, unintentional whine from you. 

You didn’t care if this wasn’t a part of the script, and neither did everyone else in the room as they all waited with bated breath, their bodies rigid and tension-filled, waiting for your response. 

“Only this eager for you.”

It was true. Your experience with her was by far the best of your career and she didn’t even take unbutton your pants yet, leaving the slick that had pooled in the center of your pants, staining the crotch area, your cheeks developing a rosy tint at how embarrassingly horny you were. 

The freckled girl noticed this, a smirk pulling at her mouth as she leaned closer to you, green eyes fogged with the desperate need to please you, to have you screaming her name until you weren’t able to do so. The hotness of her breath, as it passed through her teeth, made you shudder, your manicured fingers going to rest at the waistband of her jeans, right above the small of her back. 

“You have no idea what you just started, sweetheart.” 

With that, she hastily reached for the button of your jeans, popping them open, her fingers guiding themselves onto your bare cunt, air passing through your teeth as you hissed, the coolness of her ringed fingers coming in contact with your warm flesh. 

The dry chuckle that passed her lips was laced with humor, your lack of underwear surprising her although it wasn’t written on her flushed face. “And you aren’t wearing anything else. You’re trying to reel me in, huh?” 

“Ah, shit.”

“So wet and I only just started touching you.” She drawled, her left arm wrapping around your waist to scoot you to the edge of the green laminate countertop, placing the pad of her thumb on your bud, moving it in slow circles. You clenched onto nothing, bucking your hips into her hand, urging her to press down harder. 

She complied, working her finger against you so roughly, that the slight pinch of pain one of her many rings caused as it skimmed across one of your folds spiraled into pleasure. She rested her forehead against yours, the tips of your noses touching as she continued to please your aching cunt. Biting down on your lip, a muffled moan escaped causing your jaw to grow tense at the knot that had formed in the expanse of your stomach. 

“Does it feel good, baby?” 

Nodding your head, you lifted your hips, helping her tug your jeans off fully, exposing the smooth, moisturized skin of your legs, the scratchy denim pooling at your ankles. 

Ellie removed her hand, the sudden rush of air on your exposed flesh causing an involuntary arch in your lower back. The heat of her green eyes burning at your lower half had sent adrenaline coursing through every vein in your body, even more so when you had whined. 

“Such a pretty pussy.” 

Her praises had set your skin on fire, the aching throb becoming unbearable, your arousal leaking from you once more as she shoved a finger inside of you with the help of your wetness, one of the tight rings stretching you out just an inch more. One of your sweaty palms slapped against the counter, the back of your head coming in contact with a wooden cabinet, a small ‘thud’ accompanying the action. 

Without warning, she started pumping the lone finger in and out, flexing in between your walls, enjoying the expression on your face — the way it contorted with pleasure when she’d hit a certain spot inside of you that had you silently mumbling with closed eyes, curses spilling from your lips in a low chant.

Your hard nipples were visible through the thin shirt that covered your chest, and she couldn’t stop her other hand as it weaved its way under the end of your shirt, flicking one of them harshly, a sting of pain in its wake. “Fuck.” You sighed, breath stuttering as you felt another finger slide past your hole. 

With flared nostrils, you cocked your head to the side as her lips started to suck at your neck, teeth grazing across your throat, a thin layer of saliva snailing up your neck as the skin grew red and raw, the blood cells beneath rising to the surface at the suction. 

Your entire body was hot, flushed with sweat as she pleased you as if you were the last person she’d ever have the privilege of laying her godly hands upon. You were growing addicted to her touch — as wrong as it was because your dislike for her was starting to lessen just a bit. Her fingers felt amazing, the way they curled into you, not too much but not too little that it didn’t satisfy you when it was the exact opposite. 

In truth, you almost didn’t recognize the sensation that came to you as it had grown foreign to you, along with the butterflies that would flutter within your stomach as other’s touches had rendered you numb. Not Ellie’s though. Never hers. 

With that one lingering thought, a sob rippled through your throat as you clenched tightly around her fingers, the muscles in your stomach flexing as you came, legs shaking around her frame. 

There wasn’t any time to waste, camera film was expensive after all. 

You were numb, breathing heavy and hair disheveled, eyes wide and lips parted as Ellie sunk to her knees, curling her hands under your thighs only to rest them on your lower stomach, a trail of hot, sloppy kisses being left behind starting from your knee. 

When her warm tongue cupped over you, you were a goner, toes curling within the space of your boots, the sound of her lapping at your juices sinful as she sucked greedily. 

Internally slapping yourself, you concluded that all the past bickering and sexual tension throughout the many seasons all led up to this — the best head you had ever received in your life and she had just swiped her tongue once. 

“Please, please.” You begged pathetically, hands weaving through her short auburn hair, tugging to one side harshly, causing her to moan against you. 

“Please what?” She cooed, urging you to use your words even though you were a sobbing mess. 

“Please let me feel you, I want your tongue.” 

The smile she gave you was lazy, and devious as the flesh of her lips pulled back into a smile. 

“All you had to do was ask, darlin'.'”

[blu-ish]

Ok so how do you think Shadow reacted when Sonic wasn’t in his arms when he arrived back in green hill

(Sonic prime)

... (Here's my idea as a sample mini-fic cuz I have no self-control.)

He couldn't help the panic that sunk deep within his broken heart. He failed. After everything, and he was still unable to save one of the only people who genuinely cared about him. That was Shadows most rational thought at the moment anyways. Almost tempted to let out a pitiful laugh at the irony of it all.

The hedgehog felt stupid, naive, and absolutely pathetic. Just like before.

What did he think would happen?

His grip loosened after he feels the almost ghostly appearance of the chaos emerald in his quills, the one he'd spent hours scouring for in the past. He doesn't even remember why...

The emerald looked way to much like his eyes, eye's he'd never get to see again.

As much as Shadow was willing to give into the pain, the urge to scream his lunges out, he remembered the mountain-- the prism.

What if...?

Hope burns like a small uncertain ember in his heart, one where the slightest breeze would extinguish it forever. Shadow races up the mountain, emerald in hand, unsure of what he might see--or what he wanted to see. Who he wished to see.

Ruby meets emerald green, and Shadow can breathe again.

...

Shadow tries to ignore the emotional whiplash he had just experienced. He really does. But, he can't help but occasionally stare- no, examine the cobalt hedgehog who sat next to him.

He's here.

He's alive.

His gloved hand twitches, unbeknownst to its owner, it slowly inches its way closer to the hero. Stopping at an invisible barrier, Shadow clears his throat.

"I hope you've at least tried to learn something from all of this."

Sonic's laughter almost makes the agent jump, almost.

"Yeah, yeah. No more smashing super colorful rocks for me, that's for sure!" Sonic played the events they both just endured like another adventure, just another day for Sonic T. Hedgehog. Or so he assumed the blue hedgehog was trying to do.

"I think that would be for the best. For everyone." Shadow concluded, gripping the grass below him a little harder then he meant too. An action that didn't go unnoticed by the hedgehog next to him.

"I'm really gonna miss everyone though, seems kinda silly after everything but..." Sonic sighed, "I'm really glad the guy I ended up getting stuck with was you, Shads."

Turning to face the hedgehog fully. Shadow scanned Sonics face for any indication of sarcasm, only to be met by the most brightest smile he'd ever seen. The warm hues of the sunset didn't help either.

He'd seen Sonic smile, the guy seemed to do it whenever he could. But now, this... felt different, personal. It didn't feel unpleasant either. That scared him, not like he'd ever admit that though.

"And what exactly does that mean?" The darker hedgehog ignored the flush that was most likely on his face right now. Narrowing his brow at the other. He could unpack what he was feeling, later.

"Does grumpy want a list?" Sonic replied playfully. Since when did he start to lean on his side? The blue hero continued, listing his reasons on his fingers.

"Not to mention you've saved my life, more than once, all in practically the same day."

"You saved mine as well, that makes us even." Shadow reminded. It was getting harder and harder to keep eye contact with Sonic. He crossed his arms in mild frustration at himself more than anything.

"We had a bonding moment! You cradled me in your arms, dude!" Sonic exclaimed, moving in even closer somehow to wrap an arm around the flustered hybird.

His mind going blank to find a proper response, he resorted to grumbling. Sonics laughter filled the air again, taking another breath out of Shadows in the process.

"Anyone would've done the same, your life was in immediate danger, I was simply the fastest mode of transportation, simple."

"But it wasn't just anyone Shads... it was you." Shadow had rarely heard the hedgehog sound so serious, but gentle at the same time. As if he was talking to a frightened woodland creature, one that was only mere moments away from fleeing.

He didn't know when they started looking at each others eyes, he also came to the conclusion that Sonics eyes--while similar, shined way brighter than his emerald.

It was Sonics turn to clear his throat, accompanied by a chuckle. "So, yeah... thanks."

What Sonic wasn't expecting was dark arms wrapping themselves around his back. Bringing him close to his rival. Or the soft patch of white fur to tickle so much.

"Don't get used to it.." Was all Shadow said, burying his face unapologetically into his peach shoulder.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Sonic smiled, hugging Shadow tight. The pair stayed like that until the night covered them in a blanket of stars.

It was good to be home.

[winterarmyy]

Never Lie To Me

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Y/N's sinful thoughts towards the Asset is reciprocated.

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x hydra agent!female!reader

Words: 3.4k++

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, purely smut and lack of plot, honestly. messy writing and lack of dialogue, sorry for that. Others may include probably incorrect russian due to the use of google translate, marking kink (if you squint), metal hand kink, finger-fucking, clit spanking, unprotected sex, creampie, soldat doesn't talk much, i figured he is more reserved but that doesn't mean his actions are (*wink wink*) he is kinda rough but the reader highkey loves it, just bunch of horny pent-up mfs getting some action for once, y'know.

Inspiration: "Cause I can see you waiting down the hall for me and I can see you up against the wall with me." – I Can See You (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N didn't understand why was she sent to this field mission. There were literally dozens of others that were much suitable to do it and yet they chose her of all people? Considering her much leisure job for the past months, which basically just to guard a lab, Hydra seemed to forgot that her body have been lack of combat practice.

She hated this. This mission. This organization. All of it.

Y/N was one of those kids that Hydra stole from the orphanages for their Phantom program; it is where they train, or accurately brainwash, the kids into highly skilled assassin. And she was one of the top 5 out of the program in her batch.

But after a certain incident in one of the mission in Peru, she was temporarily relocated to Siberia to, as they say, "recover" before they can assign get into another mission. There, she was given a much lenient task, which was to guard the lab where the Winter Soldiers were created.

Those few months was both heaven and hell for her; heaven was that she didn't need to be soaked in the blood of the innocent lives and hell was that she had to be a bystander to the cruelty of the dehumanizing process of the Winter Soldier program.

Sure, everything Hydra does to its "followers" are, by nature, imbrute. I mean, she was trained like a dog since she was but a child, but this. This was just another level of evil. Such vile and merciless thing to do to another human being. The muzzles that Hydra shoved in their mouth doesn't really help to reduce the excruciating noises that they made.

Though, while she was physically forced to witness the atrociousness, there was one constant thing that kept her mind off from it all.

They call him the Asset. In fact he was the first one. But she'd rather think of him simply as a man sleeping in a cryo chamber.

Y/N had heard of this "monster", the rumours were terrible as they come and go, but she find it hard to believe that when the soldat had such a calm and kind expression on his face, even if his features were frozen in ice. That was her first impression of him; then day by day, and what felt like ages, she watched him.

Her curiosity got the best of her when she started to think of scenarios and possibilities that the man had quickly became her escape from the horrid reality around her.

Though she spend most of her time trying not to feel it, but the other times, well... the thoughts went a little wild. At one point, they got too personal even for her own mind to comprehend.

After a month of reporting at the new post, she heard the whispers of "thawing the asset" from other agents and scientists around the lab. And surely enough, one of those day, the soldat was brought back from his slumber.

It didn't cross her mind before, of what color laid behind those closed lids. But when she saw his eyes for the first time, she was in complete awe. They were blue as the vast ocean she once jet-skied over; but they were as cold like when she stepped foot at this snow covered facility.

The contrast of his dark hair and tanned skin only makes his bright eyes to become the most prominent feature on his face. And Y/N just couldn't tear her gaze away, especially when the Hydra agent that supposed to retrieve him was making such a big fuss over how slow the soldat was reacting to their commands.

What do they expect? He was literally frozen for lord knows how long just a few seconds ago. Everything must be dissociating for him. So of course, the man's mind and body needs time to adjust.

The soldat abruptly fell on his knees after exiting the chamber, causing one of the guards to strike a kick across his face, "вставай, паршивая собака! (Get up, you lousy dog!)"

And that was it, Y/N had enough of it, "Hey!" she shouted as her stomped towards the guards. The duo quickly stood straight and showed their respect to her; knowing that those who graduated from Phantom program has higher ranking than them.

The moment Y/N found her footing in front of him, the palm of her hand landed harshly across his face, "Do you realized what you just did?" She asked as the taller regained to his prior composure.

"That man!" She pointed at the soldat who was obediently sitting on the floor, "Is Hydra's most prized asset. He alone is worth thousands of you useless scumbags. And you had the audacity to lay your hands on him?!" She roared and the lab fell into silent.

The two guards can only bite on their own tongue knowing what she said was true. The soldat was in fact the Hydra's precious weapon, as for now that he was the only one who successfully weilded the super soldier serum in his veins.

Y/N walked around and stood in front of the soldat, "Are you hurt, soldat?" she asked as her gaze fell on him. His head was hanging low as he bored his empty eyes into the shine of Y/N's black boots; he shook his head and replied, "No, ma'am"

She knew he was lying, especially when she saw the drips of blood on his pants, "Look at me." She ordered in which the soldat complied. And there it was, the source of the mess, the red cut on the corner of his lips. Her frown only deepened when the bruises were slowly forming on his cheek bones.

Y/N crouched to his level, as her hand reaching for his cheeks. His body halted and stiffened when she approached, but only to be surprised by the soft carress of her fingers on his face, "If you're not injured, then what's this?" She whispered lowly; a tone where just the two of them can hear.

The soldat's empty eyes almost melt in hers; he never saw her before, who is she? Why was there so much kindness in her eyes? And why was she holding him so gently?

He let her careful thumb wiped the blood from his chin before whispered again, "Never lie to me, soldat. Do you understand?"  The soldat obediently nodded as a spiral of indescribable emotions stirred within him. His eyes lingered at the way her lips formed into a soft smile, "Good." She praised.

Since then, the soldat's gaze had remain on her almost all the time. From the moment she threatened the two guards, to the time she looked away from the tortured candidates of the Winter Soldier program, to this very second as she undresses every part of her suit.

Though the mission was a success however, their plane was utterly wrecked by an unforeseen mini gun. So they were forced to walk through the snow storm and find shelter at one of Hydra's safe house.

It was not rare for the soldat to be paired with other agents on a mission but never with a woman. Much less the pretty little bunny that he had been obsessing over. Ever since that incident, the soldat often think of her. And he really tried too keep everything professional but something within him changed lately.

One particularly distinct moment that he experienced that made it clear to him; it was when he was waiting in the hall for his handlers to drag him around the facilities, and she happen to walk towards him from the opposite side. And when he brushed pass her, he noticed how his hands was itching to grab her by the neck and push her up against the wall.

As if there was this strong urge to claim her, mark her, fuck her. That was when he realized. The soldat wanted her. He wanted ruin her for everyone else. He wanted her to be his. But, he knew they keep watchful eyes on him. On both of them. And he can't risk that.

But now that she was standing right in front of him, in her underwear no less, how was he supposed to control himself?

Y/N turned her attention towards the soldat, he stood absolutely still that she almost thought he was literally frozen, "Why are you not stripping? Even with that super soldier serum in you, I doubt that you don't feel cold from those snow-soaked clothes."

Maybe it was the dim-lit room, but she swore that the soldat eyes darkened when she walk towards him. Especially when his eyes ranked the way her wet undergarments stick onto her skin.

How many times did she fantasize about the way he was looking at her. How many times did she made herself cum from the thoughts on grinding her cunt into his metal fingers.

Too many to count.

Especially when, in her head, she could see him in his suit with his knives, she could see him throwing his black mask on the floor, she could see him bending her over to his will, she could see him make her want him, crave him, need him.

And whenever their eyes met, she often think of the what-ifs between them. Like, what would he do if she went to touch him now? What would he do if Hydra never found them out? What would he do if they never made a sound?

What would he think if she made him her own personal addiction? Then will he entertain her fantasies by making her his own secret mission?

"Remember what I told you, soldat?" She asked as her hands reached for his mask.

Without hesitation, the soldat replied, "Never lie to you." as his face was bare for her to see.

Y/N took a step forward, so close that he could almost feel her skin on him, "Now tell me, what do you want?" Her eyes found his diluted ones as he lifted his gaze from her cleavage to meet hers.

His cock was rather truthful even from the beginning; now more than before when it twitched painfully in the confinement of his pants. The soldat hissed to the feel of it before he confessed, "I want you."

Y/N couldn't help but to smile, "Then, have me, soldat."

That was all he needed to hear. Her permission to have her, to own her. Then, very next second, he had her body pinned firmly against the wall, his lips on her soft ones, his wet tongue exploring in her mouth.

The soldat had his metal hand gripping the back of her neck, not wanting that pretty head of hers to hit the wall; while the other hand unabashedly teared the bra off from her body.

Breaking the kiss, the soldat's lustful gaze watched how her breasts became bare for him. So pretty and perky. His cock twitched madly as if it was ordering him to touch them, suck on them. And he did just that.

The soldat took her right nipple into his hot mouth while his free hand pawed on the other. Y/N moaned lewdly at roughness of his hand and mouth. When she threw her head back, that was when she saw it. At the corner of the room, she noticed a CCTV camera directly situated towards their direction

She grabbed a handful of his long hair, and lightly tugged him back but he refused to stop sucking on her. Y/N huffed when she whispered, "They're watching us."

That was when the soldat quickly released her from his mouth and quickly hovered his huge body over her, he growled possessively as his quick eyes scanned for all the nearby camera.

Y/N chuckled amusingly at his reaction, "Do you not like it when they watch us?" She teased. The soldat growled again as he pulled her closer, her nipples perked even more now that they touched the cold fabric of his clothes, "Mine. Mine alone." He declared.

Y/N looked up at him with a pair of seductive eyes, "Then, what are you going to do about it?" She taunted. The soldat swiftly pulled his knives out from his thigh strap and threw it directly at the lens of each camera in the room. Now no one would have a chance witness her divine body, or see what her face looks like when he make her cum.

There weren't much of intelligible words that came out of his mouth after that, besides the grumble noises of the word "mine".

The soldat latched her mouth onto her skin, particulary around her neck, collarbone and the valley of her breast. He kissed and licked and sucked to leave his mark on her as his metal hand dug into her hips.

Meanwhile, the flesh of his right hand slide right into her panties. He fingers trailed the outer slit of her cunt; as if he was purposely teasing her, "Зайка (bunny)" he groaned against her neck when he felt how wet she was. She squirmed needily under his hand, when his middle finger poked her entrance while his thumb grazed across her clit.

"So wet, all for me?" He purred as his finger slowly dug into her hole. Y/N whined and grabbed his wrist before he could go any further, "Want your metal fingers, soldat." she slurred deliriously; already drunk with his touches.

It took all his might to not fuck her right there and then when she let him have her. The soldat wanted to treat her gently, prepare her sweetly. Now that she had confessed such sinful desire, something in him just snapped.

He pulled his hand out, and effortlessly ripped her panties from her body before lifting one of her legs up, pushing her thighs towards her body. She yelped at the sudden roughness, embarrassment crept across her spine when the soldat licked his lips at the sight of her cunt, wide open for him.

"Want my metal fingers huh,  Зайка (bunny)?" He trailed his metal fingers along her wet hole, "You got it." He abruptly shoved two of his digits into her, causing her to let out a loud gasp at the sudden intrusion.

The soldat didn't give her time to adjust, he simply pulled his fingers out to the very tip and thrust it back into her. And he does it again, and again and again. Until the pain turn into sheer pleasure.

When her eyes rolled back and shut close, the soldat growled disapprovingly, "No. Don't close your eyes. Look. Look down. Watch how your wet little hole take my metal fingers. That's it. Look at you. Fuck. Look. At. You." His pace didn't lose its rhythm when he fucked his fingers hard and fast; he curled them just right every time he hit that deep spot inside her.

His metal fingers was better that she had ever imagine, and the sight that she was looking at was so lewd that she was already so overstimulated from it, then when his thumb circled her clit, she thought she was seeing actual stars.

Streams of fluid was squelching everytime he shoved his fingers knuckles deep into her, that it trickled down his hand. It was so messy and the soldat loves it. He want her to be this messy all the time. He wanted to clean her up with his tongue. Lick every drip of her sweet fluid, swollow it like he was thristy and she was water.

At the this point, he would be willing to stay on his knees if it means that he get to have her cunt on his mouth always.

The soldat growled at the way she moaned so shamelessly at how harsh his fingers was violating her sweet pussy. He kept on rubbing on her clit and watched her body shuddered when he slap on it. Seeing her reaction, he continued to spank her clit and he fucked her harder; one, two, three, four, until she cried out a long moan and her pussy gushed with her creamy cum.

And seeing how her body trembled, her cream dripping out onto his hand, the soldat almost combust in his pants. Though apart of him wanted to feel her sweaty skin on his own, another just wanted to feel her warm pussy.

So, instead of wasting more of his time undressing himself, the soldat hurriedly unzipped his pants to release his aching cock out. He pulled his finger out and licked her cum clean while his other hand lazily pumped his leaking length, "Taste so good, Зайка (bunny). Bet you feel good too."

Y/N whined at his action, he looked so hot and bothered. And something about him fully clothed while pumping his needy cock for her; it just drives her to near feral. She let out an exasperated gasp when the soldat maneuvered her legs to cling around his waist, while his hand gripped on her hips. Her voice then stuck on her throat when he thrust his cock deep inside in one stroke.

His size was stretching her out so much that it burned, a good type of burn; in fact, the best type. The soldat on the other hand almost burst his cum the moment he entered her. She felt so good. Better that his rough hands when he jerked off to the though of her. But he was determined to make her cum on his dick before he get his own high.

So without letting her adjust to his size, he slowly pulled out and harshly slammed right back into her; fuck does it feel so good. And her mewling so needily for him does not help the situation at all. He repeated the same thing over and over until he managed to suck up his need to cum, then fasten his pace. And the sound of her wetness rubbing against his cock when he pounded into her was so damned and sinful, that never wanted to forget.

Her back repeatedly hit the wall from the force of his thrust that she needed to hold on his shoulders for support. His pace was fast and deep, almost erratic. Her moans broken when she felt the tip of her cock ramming at her womb, her walls clenching in delight to welcome such huge and hot length inside her. Every stroke was perfect and if she had no self-control she would be cumming each time the soldat forced his cock into her.

His hips slapped against her and she eagerly followed his every thrust, desperate to meet his skin as much as he was for her. And when she looked up to him, the soldat was looking directly into her. His ocean blues dove into her soul as his grunts tangled with her cries.

His breathing stuttered and his pace flatter. She could tell he was getting close. But, the soldat refused to; not until she cum first.

In and out. In and out. His pace became brutally delicious. Her nerves were stretching so good that her toes curled and that was when she felt the coil forming. Short needy pants left her lips, each one was a sign that she was getting closer to ecstacy, "I'm cumming, soldat. Please,, don't stop."

The soldat groaned, "Don't hold back." He pounded into her impossibly harder; and the delicious drag of his cock continued to punish her into pure ecstasy, forcing her cum to leak out and lather around his throbbing length, "That’s it, Cum for me, Зайка (bunny). Cum for your soldat,, ahh fuck so tight, i'm cumming too, ahh." The soldat chased his own release as continued to thrust inside her clenching hole.

"Fuckkkk i'm cumming inside you, Зайка (bunny). Will mark you mine with my cum. Ahhh ahhh fuckk", the soldat moaned to the addictive feel of her cunt milking him, and soon after when it hits him, his cock throbbed wildly as his cream leaked from the tip, endlessly filling her womb full with his warm cum.

Y/N whined to the amount of warm fluid spreading inside her. And when she thought his slowed thrust was a sign of an end, she couldn't be wrong. The soldat slowly pulled his cock out to the very tip, just pound it back into her. He groaned at the sight of his creamy cum spilling out, circling where his cock was stuffing her. Then he does it again, and again.

Until she started to moan for him, "hmmm,, s-soldat?" She hoped that he would explain himself.

His dark eyes only glint with lust and greed when a small smiled curved on his lips, "Oh, Зайка (bunny), I'm not done with you until I mark every part of you as mine."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: This scene has been played out in my head the whole day when Speak Now (TV) came out. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this short read! Drop some thought behind for me would you?

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ on my mind since the flood ❞ ─ a darling, in any life blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader. summary: the red thread between two people destined to be together may stretch and tangle, but those ties will never break. or: a 45min train ride makes two 43 year olds feel like teenagers. content warnings: divorce babes, divorce. kinda spoiler-ish. watch the 3rd season before. the reader has a backstory and a job, if that bothers you grow up don't read. word count: 960+

Your hair was different, that was the first thing he noticed.

Much like himself, you had soft wrinkles beginning to show up on your forehead and around your eyes, a gift from your late thirties that kept on giving. Your eyes were the same though, he could recognize those anywhere at anytime, even if it had been decades since the last time they stared back at his. Your nose, your lips. Your smile. The way his name sounded coming from your tongue. It was all extremely familiar, as if he was fifteen again.

"You're staring, like a creep, airhead." The old nickname rolls out like you had spent merely seconds apart and it makes him laugh, it has been weeks, maybe months since he last laughed genuinely like that, with his whole face.

"I just got lost—" In your eyes. "In my memories for a bit. You look so much the same."

"Well, my pay check won't allow me any plastic surgeries so—"

"Wise ass." And there it was, like a reflex, his own nickname to you leaving his lips before he even thought about it, if he did think about it he probably would've held it in, a 43 year old FBI agent using childish nicknames not being the best look, but it didn't feel like that with you, at all, it felt natural. You both laugh at it for a second and a comfortable silence follows it, but Aaron couldn't keep it like that, he needed to know more, where have you been, what were you doing... Have you been in Virginia for long? He kept it as casual as he could considering his curiosity, "How have you been?"

"Alright, good, yeah. I’m teaching at Scalia, started this year, I want to keep practicing though, but I’m gonna settle down in Virginia first." You shrug, taking a sip of your coffee. You were purposefully leaving details out, you had seen him on TV a lot since coming back to the states, FBI, profiler. You wanted to see how much could he get from you without words. "What about you, mister FBI hotshot?"

If you two were still teens the way your teasing came out would've made him blush, and quite frankly if he wasn't so self controlled maybe he would've blushed right now, he did feel warm, but instead he just let a chuckle out of his throat, "Well, FBI hotshot just had his divorce finalized, not that glamorous being in these shoes." You already knew what he was doing with his life, it made sense to give the only actual news he had, "Scalia? Law degree too, then." Aaron clicks his tongue, not holding back the instant smirk the realization brought. "Your mother used to say we were so similar we shared the same brain, remember?"

"Welcome to the club, then! Meeting every Friday, membership perks only after the second one, though." His eyes went straight to your fingers, seeing the lack of any rings he nods to himself. Twice divorced. Dark heavy coat, makeup accentuating your features, red lips, hair pulled back. You care about being seen, and desired, but don't want to be approached, a teacher-lawyer, no time, a lot of perfectionism. "Yeah, I stay far away from criminal. Civil and International Law cases mostly. Families, divorces, cross-board custodies." A child of divorce trying to save other children of divorce. Very typical behavior.

Aaron felt like he could stay like this for hours on end, sitting by your side uncomfortably on the train after fate pulled you two to one another again, hearing you tell him about your life in London, your divorces, your time in college. You made him feel young, like you were still his childhood best friend who he fell for. Like if he were to kiss you like he did when you were both thirteen you would still blush and grip tightly on his shirt. Nostalgia was indeed a bittersweet thing.

"I think when you moved away was the last time I openly sobbed." He shakes his head, the thought leaving his brain in a quiet, hushed voice tone, like a secret he wasn't supposed to be telling. It had been years, you were both fifteen when your parents got divorced and you were taken to England with your father. 28 years since the last time he saw you, and he still can feel the same pain if he thinks too hard about it, the way his heart felt like was being sliced apart, getting smaller by the minute as your father's car got further and further away. His mood soured in a way his feelings were only able to function normally again after meeting Haley.

Your hand softly touched his with the confession, your thumb going to his palm and drawing small comforting circles, "I cried myself to sleep a lot that year." Aaron glued his eyes on the way your hands touched, and you thought he might reject it, find it weird after so many years, but instead he just closed his around yours tightly, a silent thankful prayer to the universe, mixed with the warning that he had no intention to let go.

You both stay like that as you talk the rest of the ride, cellphone numbers and e-mails are exchanged, along with longing glances beginning to make you shy like the school girl you once were, when you fell for him the first time. You often wondered what would've happened if you stayed in Washington. Before Jack, Aaron wondered it too from time to time, but truly, he wouldn't do anything different now, he wouldn't choose any alternative ending that would take Jack from him.

But at least now he had a second chance, right?

[needlereads]

Makes You Unsteady

Bucky Barnes x agent!Reader

Warnings: fem!reader; anxious Bucky; soft Bucky; not canon compliant at all

A/N: oh boy, first time posting a Bucky Barnes ff. I've been scribbling these little interactions of Bucky loving a SHIELD agent, and finally decided dammit I'm going to post them.

He paused at the end of the hall. This was stupid. You were asleep by this time. What had he planned on doing, knocking on your door and disturbing you? You probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

Before James could turn back towards the elevator, he heard a click and the motion sensing hall light around the corner came on. Peering past the corner, he was surprised to see the very woman who had been occupying his mind, very much not asleep as he had presumed. You leaned against your doorframe, loitering for a bit.

What were you doing up?

You finally turned, your steps would take you further from him. He knew Darren’s room was a couple of doors down from you.

Your name escaped his lips before he could think properly about the consequences. You turned, squinted at him with tired eyes.

“James?”

“Where you headed?” He strode towards you, as if it was normal to be making rounds in these private quarters.

You rubbed your eyes. As he drew closer he could tell you were growing more alert, though still adorably dazed from a lack of sleep.

“Oh, just over to Darren’s.” Your best friend was always the default destination when you didn’t want to be alone.

“Is something the matter?” He didn’t usually try to pry. But he couldn’t just stand still and let you walk away, couldn’t bear to watch you seek comfort in someone else when he was physically in your reach and ready to give comfort himself. Maybe he was tired out of his mind too, to disregard his usual inhibitions, let alone the chance of you asking him why he was wandering the building barely an hour after getting back from a mission.

“You just got back. You’re early.” Your eyes climbed down his body and up again. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m not.” Was it selfish that his heart glowed warmly to see you so concerned over his well-being? “Is something the matter? How come you’re up?” he asked gently again. Locks of bed-swept hair framed you face. His fingers twitched with the instinct to sweep them back and trace down you braid.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I could sit with you.” God what was he saying? “If you want, that is.”

“Yeah.”

James held his breath as you replied.

“I’d like that,” you said.

In your room, you both settled on your two seater sofa.

“Has it been like this for a while? Not being able to fall asleep?”

You shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I had a nightmare,” said, almost amused. “I don’t usually dream vividly, but tonight…”

He waited, hoping he wasn’t invading your privacy.

“It was the plane crash. The one my parents were in.” You had not been there for it, but your mind conjured images for you anyway. “As if I had been there too, like I had made my mom give up the window seat and then snuggled up to her side. I…was such a baby with her.” A breathy laugh left you. “Can’t even have the decency to be traumatized by something I actually went through. Like the burning building, or the explosion at the compound.” You didn’t catch his frown.

James swung his legs up, sitting criss-cross to face you. “Can I share something?”

You nodded.

“Sometimes in my sleep I feel like I’m falling and I can’t stop. It creeps me out and I can’t wait to wake up and stop falling.”

“The train,” you whispered.

He nodded. “But worse than that, worse than the nightmares about shooting on command, or the war battles that I don’t remember…I dream about my mom and sisters being killed. My mind convincing me that Hydra found them and shot each of them in the street, or that they drowned, or that they just…stopped breathing in their sleep.” He shook his head. “None of those things happened but I wake up and I want to throw up. I want to go back in time and hunt every Hydra piece of shit and kill them a hundred times over. I want…”

You stopped him with a hand over his metal one. “Don’t. Please.”

He was about to say he wanted to not wake up from his sleep either, and he could tell you had somehow heard those thoughts. He was pathetic, to break in front of you. He had no right to manifest such darkness in front of you. But your pleading eyes left him more breathless than the shame.

“Please?”

Anything, he would do anything you asked.

-*-*-*-*

He woke alone in your bed. Lifting his head towards the door separating your bedroom from the living room, covered with a navy blue patterned cloth. He made out your voice and footsteps on the other side. He really couldn’t be blamed for being able to hear you talking on your cellphone, especially when his name was brought up.

“- totally forgot to text you and then James and I both fell asleep. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad?”

A tinny laugh reached his ears. If he strained a bit he could hear the person on the other end of the phone. Probably Darren.

“I’m not. Just glad you didn’t try to ride it out alone. I was wondering when Barnes would finally make his move.”

You sighed, glancing at the door to your bedroom and stepping away, lowering your voice just short of a whisper. “He wasn’t – there was no move.”

Your friend uttered your name, exasperated. This wasn’t the first time he teased you about being in denial of love knocking on your doorstep.

“Hon, you deserve to love and be loved.”

“It’s not that.” You hesitated.

“Then what?”

You tugged at your hair. “Just…for someone who’s had so much taken from him, and who’s given up so much. I can’t…can’t ask that of him. I can’t be another burden for him.”

Darren was not happy with you. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. First of all, that’s not what you are. Second of all, it’s his choice to want you. Just like it’s yours to want him. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I’m not denying it,” you said firmly. “But that’s all. Just a want. I…I can’t.”

You heard your name and whipped around to find James standing in the middle of the living room. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your breaths measured.

“Darren, I’ll see you later.” You ended the call.

James felt each pulse of his blood in his veins as he tried processing what he’d heard. He knew his hearing couldn’t be mistaken. The way you looked at him, with a quiet honesty, urged hope to bloom inside his chest.

“James.” You paused, and he swore the world slowed on its axis. “I…”

“You want me?”

You felt helpless under his full attention. His eyes searched you, so vulnerable and earnest. You refused to lie to him.

“Yes.”

Despite what you said to Darren, now, oh, your single word of confirmation sounded so clear and sweet to him.

“You think you’re a burden to me?”

He had quietly closed the distance between you.

You lowered you gaze. “I’m trying not to become that to you.”

He dared to touch his finger to you chin, encouraging you to look at him.

“Let’s agree right now, that you won’t refer to yourself like that again.” His palm curved around your cheek. He wanted to touch every inch of you.

He held you through the night. Not sleeping, and not tired; just relishing in the contact of your skin on his, your warmth bleeding into his.

-*-*-*

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Five Times Kissed || Alejandro Vargas ||

Four times in which you kissed Alejandro and one time he kissed you.

A/n: You know, Soap { next to Woods } was my favorite character in Call Of Duty. I believe Alejandro has now taken up that mantle.

|| First Time ||

Rocking on your heels, your eyes were glued to the man that had just joined the team. It was hard to watch him, he was handsome, smart and cared about his team.

Not to mention how he saved your life, you wanted to thank him but you rather not interrupt him speaking to Ghost. Taking a deep breath you stepped closer suddenly feeling nervous. “Um…Alejandro?”

And now everyone was looking at you, you assumed Ghost’s face was deadpanned and Soap, he had that smirk on his face. The man knowing about your crush on the agent. But Alejandro, he was smiling, his brown eyes lighting up.

“Yes y/n, how can I help you.”

“I just wanted to thank you from saving me.” Your words were rushed and before the man had a chance to respond you placed a kiss to his cheek then took off running, Soaps laughing echoing throughout that room.

“I can’t believe she finally mustard the balls.” Ghost muttered.

Though Soap scoffed crossing his arms over his chest. “That doesn’t count, it’s gotta be on the lips or that shit doesn’t count.”

Blinking a few times, Alejandro tuned out the others as he placed his hand on his cheek.

|| Second Time ||

Chest heaving, you did your best to ignore the ringing in your ears. You weren’t expecting to get blown back that far. Looking around spotted Alejandro, face up but not moving. Panicking you quickly stumbled to his side. Knowing you had to preform CPR, you pushed down any nerves determined to save the man.

Pressing your lips against his you forced air into the man’s lungs hoping to get him breathing again, along with the chest compressions you did not stop until you felt like pressure against your lips.

Licking your lips you watched as he sat up breathing deeply, with his eyes going wide he turned to you then quickly pulled you in for a hug.

“Thank you Y/n. Thank you.”

|| Third Time ||

It was Alejandro that was feeling now, he had grown closer to you. The first time you had kissed his cheek he felt his heart race a little bit faster. The second time was when you were saving his life, and he had half a mind to return the kiss but the rational part of his brain needed to remind him that it wasn’t a kiss, it was CPR.

So he thought he should return the favor, he should kiss you. What guy didn’t initiate the kiss? Taking a breath to pump himself up he quickly made his way towards you. This man was determine to kiss you, or at least he hoped he would.

But once he got to you and when he pinned you to the wall he froze and any confidence went out the window.

“Um hello.” You smiled up at the man, his hands on either side of your head. “Do you need something Alejandro?”

“Kiss.” He blurted out.

“Huh?”

“I….kiss?”

Blinking, an airy laugh escaped your lips though standing on your toes you placed a kiss to the edge of his lips. “Better?”

Slowly nodding his head, he stepped away then watched you walk off with a slight pip in your step.

He’ll have to try that again.

|| Fourth Time ||

You couldn’t believe that this had happened, that Graves betrayed everyone and now you were sitting in a cell. At least you weren’t alone, at lest Alejandro was here with you.

“I am sorry you are stuck here.”

Turning to face the man, you shook your head then moved to sit next to him. Placing your hand on top of his you face it a squeeze. “Don’t say things like that Alejandro. I think I would be more worried if I was with Ghost or Soap.” You whispered. Shaking your head you then frowned eyeing the bandage wound on his head.

“That fucking asshole.”

Chuckling, the man pressed his fingers to the wound trying not to wince. “It is not that bad Y/n….I will live.” He muttered.

Sighing you moved to your knees then pressed a kiss to the wound. “Better?”

“Much better.”

|| Fifth Time ||

They did it, they had actually stopped the bombs from going off. The man felt like he could breath again knowing that his team, that everyone was safe. While Shepard may have fled, they had still one and he knew that they will find him.

Spotting you chatting with Soap he took a deep breath then made his way towards you. “Y/n….may I speak with you.”

“Ohhhh if you wanna sneak off to a car I won’t tell anyone.”

“SOAP!” “Soap!”

You screaming at the man as Alejandro stayed more reserved yet his voice held more venom to it.

“Alright! I’m going, I’m going!” Waiting until he left you then turned your attention to Vargas.

“So-.”

You were soon cut off by feeling his lips pressed against your own. Closing your eyes you eagerly returned the kiss grasping the man’s shirt. Once the kiss was broken you felt him rest his head against your own. “Wow.”

Chuckling, Alejandro wrapped his arm around you waist. “I would very much like to take you on a date.”

“I would very much like that.” Going in for another kiss you tensed hearing Soaps voice ring out.

“OY! GHOST! YOU OWE ME $100”

Tag List:

@redpool

[iridescentpull]

I'm working on a full transcription for Fit & Pac's secret conversation during their date and I've already covered half of it. Here are some of my favorite bits! (the full transcription should come out tomorrow if everything goes well, so fingers crossed!)

Fit: Um, so… This is… So remember the day I told you, like, Agent 18 and Foolish?

Pac: Yeah, they are kinda like something? The man with the uplifted pants.

Fit: That was– that was a test to see if you could keep a secret and you passed– you CAN keep a secret, ‘cause I didn’t hear anything else from that from anyone else on the island. Um.. so..

Pac: Hmm.

Fit: So… If I tell you about this, promise you will not tell anyone?

Pac: *stutters* No– yeah, yeah, no– how can I say this? –uh, my mouth is a rock– no, that’s not the word, that’s not the slang, uh *sigh* I don’t know, sorry, but I won’t tell anyone, you know? T-That’s a secret I will keep for my life, you know? It’s gonna go with me in my coffin, you know? I’m gonna keep it– I’m sorry.

Fit: Okay… okay, ‘cause I want you to know once I tell you this, there’s no going back.

Pac: Really? But, like– this sounds like really bad stuff, like, really bad. Like, a super secret-secret I can’t tell anyone? I don’t know, that sounds… I’m scared

Fit: Me too.

Pac: O-Oh… Oh my God.

----------------------------------------------------------

Fit: I was sent to Quesadilla Island for a very specific purpose, yes. 

Pac: Which- Which purpose it is?

Fit: So I made a deal with someone that I would come to Quesadilla Island and obtain the player data of everyone here. And in return, I’d get paid a lot of money. But, I- I… since being on the island, though, I didn’t expect to get attached to anyone like, Ramon, or you… um, and my boss gave me one year to complete my mission of obtaining all of this player data, um

Pac: So… So you’re gonna leave… You’re gonna leave.

Fit: Well, here’s the thing, Pac– even if I complete the mission, I- I’m not leaving. Because… *stutters* I-I, I know Quesadilla Island is not exactly the best place in the world, like– we’re stuck here and the Federation are assholes but like, I care about the people on this island, like you, Ramon– we have all our friends like Mike, Philza, you know? Like– Tubbo. It’s just, I’m not planning on– even if I complete the mission, I’m not planning on leaving. 

Pac: No, that’s– that’s good to hear, you know Fit? You are very important to me as well as Ramon, Richarlyson, Mike, all my family here; and it’s good to know that you got my back, and I also have yours for anything you need…. But *stutters* I’m also scared, like– you made a deal with someone else? Like, it’s not related to the Federation? And, like, why do you need to handle the player’s datas, like, what’s up with the player data? Are there some hidden secrets? And you also have to deliver my player data as well?

----------------------------------------------------------

Pac: Yeah, uh-huh? That’s him? You’ve been working for the Naked Slenderman?

Fit: *laughs* No, no, no– he has a very similar appearance to that. He’s like all white, but like… it’s almost like he’s hiding what his true form is. Everything’s a secret with my boss, everything’s a secret

Pac: You are kinda like mysterious too… I noticed, you know? You don’t talk much about your life, or about your goals. So it’s really nice for me to hear that from you. You know what I’m trying to say?

Fit: No, I understand. Yeah, no– I appreciate that. 

Pac: You kinda trust on me, so I think that this is really serious. 

Fit: Thank you–

Pac: That is something that I will remember all my life, that you trust me.

Fit: *laughs* I’m glad Pac. But listen– when I, the reason I said that you to keep this a secret is… If the Federation finds out, they’ll kill me. If the Rebellion finds out, they’ll probably also kill me! So that’s why– 

Pac: Oh my God the Rebellion!

Fit: It’s, yeah, so like- but–

Pac: Amiga!

----------------------------------------------------------

Pac: Do you– Do you have my player data?

Fit: No. I think I–

Pac: W-Well, can I hand out to you– can I hand you my player data?

Fit: *laughs in disbelief* Well! Well that–

Pac: Can I? Fit: –that would certainly make it easier! But um… I think– I don’t know, my boss asked me for more than just that; the emotions of people, I don’t know what he meant by that, but like– how, how we react to things on the island. Like, all the things we go through, like– pain, our joy...

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Salvia Splendens Means Forever Mine- Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 1.8k

TW: Death, blood, bleeding out, making out, kissing, men being creepy, swearing, blood, trauma, cliffhanger moment

A/N: Guys I am so sorry. School has actually picked up and so have rehearsals, I'm losing my mind, but I'm trying to write multiple things at once, and that's so silly of me. I'm sorry this is so short, and I promise the next one will be longer. Thank y'all for your patience. It means a lot! PS That's fully Lady Mac in the painting !!

Part 1 Part 2

In all fairness, it was your turn.

Spencer had been captured and drugged, Derek had been arrested and charged with multiple murders, Gideon’s lost love had been murdered by a serial killer, Elle had someone reach into her body and write with her blood on her living room wall, so truthfully, you were a little shocked it had taken you this long to be murdered, or kidnapped, or who knows what else. 

The team hadn’t royally fucked up, per se. You all were beyond careful, but sometimes, when you misprofile, things happen. How were you supposed to know that it was the girl and her boyfriend, and not just the boyfriend. 

The best part about this was the fact that you got to watch as the woman you saved two days ago get stabbed to death repeatedly, screaming at you to save her. Her blood splattered across your face, your clothes, your skin, permanently staining it in your mind. Your favorite Shakespeare show had always been Macbeth, it seemed a bit ironic now considering you felt as though you would never wash her blood off your hands. 

The screams would echo around in your head as you stared at her body on the mattress across from you. The red grew in splotches like a sick mold, blooming out from underneath.

The boyfriend, whose name was slipping your mind, slid the knife up your thigh, and you couldn’t tell if he was drawing more of your blood, or dragging hers across you. 

The couple had been so kind as to remove your shirt and pants, leaving you in nothing but undergarments, and no socks. Colorado was fucking cold at night

You heard the girl, Millie, giggling as she shoved the woman’s body with her foot. You winced as you felt the knife going higher than you would have preferred, his hand sliding around your waist. 

“Andrew. What are you doing?” 

His name was Andrew. Got it. 

His hands immediately retracted, shrugging and crossing his arms, but still standing over you. 

“Go dispose of her body.” 

Andrew nodded, quickly tugging your hair, painfully, before moving to clean up the mess the two of them had made. You swallowed the groan in your throat and closed your eyes; the woman’s body never left your sight though. 

“Why does a gorgeous agent like you wear such a boring necklace.”

Your eyes shot open as Millie swung the little gold chain around her fingers. You pulled you hand, intending to reach your neck, but the restraint dug into your wrist, surely leaving a mark in the process. 

You hadn't realized it was gone. Your neck suddenly felt so cold, so make, without it.

“Oh so which one of them gave you this?” 

You exhaled, but kept your eyes on her hand at all times, not wanting to lose sight of the necklace. 

She smirked, watching as every muscle in your body stayed as tense as it could. 

“Was it…Agent Morgan…Agent Prentiss…no, hmm…” She twirled it around, enjoying as you fidgeted around, terrified that the necklace would break. 

“The skinny one?” You tried so hard not to react, but you have this nasty habit of biting your cheeks when you get extremely nervous or worried, and Millie’s smirk turned wicked when she realized. 

“Ah, so it is the nerdy one…interesting…Andy?”

Andrew, who had been leaning on the door frame, eyeing you up and down, making your skin crawl, looked over at Millie. 

“Baby…” She drawled, “Put this necklace on me?”

“No.” You couldn’t help it as the words shoved their way out of your mouth before you even had a chance to process it. 

Andrew stalked towards Millie, eyeing her up and down before snatching the necklace out of her hand. “It’s real pretty on you baby.” He slowly placed it on her neck, the gold contrasting against her skin. 

“Ya know, I just have to ask…what does this stupid pendant even mean?” 

You shook your head, eyes cast downward, unable to watch someone else wear the necklace Spencer had given you. 

“Hey. Fucking answer me.” She kicked your shoulder causing you to wince in pain as you felt the bruising start to form immediately. 

You missed it as Andrew picked up the knife. You missed it as Millie took it from him. You didn’t miss how she stabbed you in the gut, causing your eyes to flash white. 

People say pain is hot, it shoots through you like a fire you can’t put out, but they’re wrong. It is ice in your veins. The numbness slowly takes over your body as it shuts down, trying to avoid the unavoidable. 

Your mouth let out a strangled “fuck” when Millie ripped the knife from your stomach, causing the blood to start oozing out of your wound. 

God it was not supposed to end this way. 

You placed a hand over your stomach, barely registering the wetness as you pulled it up to your eyes. You watched as the blood dripped down the sides of your hands, and that's when the adrenaline shot kicked out from underneath you. 

“Oh my god.” you mumbled, placing your hand over the wound. The first thing you were supposed to do was stop the bleeding. With what? There’s nothing around? Panic was seeping through every pore in your body. You had been trained for this, why couldn’t you remember what to do? What should you even use to stop the bleeding, god it fucking hurt. 

You watched as the door across the room slammed shut, causing you to flinch at the sound, causing you to groan in pain at the sudden movement. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” 

This couldn’t be it. You couldn’t just die while some sick and twisted bitch walked around with your necklace on, while you slowly bled out on some disgusting mattress in god knows where. 

Maybe this is what Spencer thought about while he was dying. 

“I’m not dying.” You whispered, wavering slightly. The blood loss was getting to your head and your eyes were getting heavy. “I’m not…shit. It’s fine…I’m”

His hand was softer than you remembered, but at least he wasn’t as nervous as before. It was your six month anniversary and Spencer had gone all out. He had taken you out to dinner, your favorite restaurant in the area, wined and dined you. It was perfect. The two of you had ended up back at your place, your back against the door as you dug your hand around in your pocket. 

“Spence.’ You mumbled, smiling against his lips, losing all focus as one of his hands grabs your waist, squeezing it with anticipation. 

Your lack of focus spurred Spencer on, and suddenly the door to your apartment was opening–he had found your keys and opened it, all while distracting you with his lips, his touch.  You were glad someone had their head on straight. 

You stumbled back slightly, not leaving his touch, feeling the warmth on his hands on your arm, pulling you back into him. 

“Move in with me.” He whispered against your lips, and you’re not sure if you heard him correctly. 

“What?” You whispered, taking the slightest step back, opening your eyes and looking up into his eyes. His sweet, shining eyes, filled with hope, and something a bit more. 

“Move in with me…” Spencer licked his bottom lip, that same nervous tick that would drive you fucking crazy whenever you looked at him. 

“What about the team…” Spencer shook his head. 

“Who cares.” He smiled at you. “I just want to wake up next to you every morning.”

Spencer kissed your lips softly.

“Please sweetheart” Your jaw.

“Every single morning” Your neck. 

“Spence…” You moaned slightly, surely leaving bruises on his arms from your grip. Your mind was everywhere, unable to truly cling onto any of the words Spencer was whispering to you.

“In our bed.” 

“Sold.” You pulled his head up and basically launched yourself at him, lips on his. 

Spencer was not having as great of a time in his head as you were. 

Just as the team was getting out of their cars, he had heard your voice, causing him to immediately go on high alert, hand on his gun in an instant. The rest of the team had followed suit, all of them quickly looking at Hotch and Reid, trying to figure out a plan. 

Reid almost had to be held back by Morgan the way he basically started to walk right into the building. He knew what happened in hostage situations. He knew how unforgiving captures could be. He couldn’t stop picturing all of the possibilities of what made you scream out in such pain. 

But suddenly, he heard the front door slam, causing all of them to instantly aim at the couple, demands and yelling all happening so slowly.

He could hear the suspects voice, that dumb asshole that wouldn’t stop flirting with you in  the restaurant they had eaten at a couple days ago. His arrogance was the least of Spencer’s problems now. 

Then, he heard a woman’s voice, calling the unsub “sweetheart” and “darling” and “baby”. How could the miss the girlfriend? 

She had seemed so…submissive. But clearly, the profile was off a little bit. 

That’s when he heard the first gun shots go off, causing him to look up at the body on the ground, and the girl sobbing but getting on her knees. The boyfriend had a gun in his hand, but was too slow. 

Morgan quickly walked up to the girl, Hotch following him closely, gun trained on her. 

Hotch’s eyes went wide, and he quickly gave a nod to Emily, causing her to block Spencer’s path. 

“Where did you get this?” Hotch yanked it off of her neck, clutching the necklace in his hand. 

“You’ll find what’s left of 'em in there.” She smiled sickly, getting shoved by Morgan towards the black SUV brigade. 

But Spencer had already seen the necklace, and heard her answer. It was a miracle how agile he was, considering the FBI had to waive all of his physical exams to let him go into the field. Before anyone could really clear the building, Spencer was already inside of it, ignoring the shouts from his superiors and peers. 

He slowly made his way through, trying not to vomit at all of the blood all over the floors and the very clear drag marks of a body. 

His eyes landed on your body, bloody mattress and all and he froze. He couldn’t believe his fucking eyes.

Next Part

________________________________________________________

SSMF Taglist: @raely-study @multifandoms-assemble @marylovesevanpeters @shqwqrma @niya06

[wing-dingy]

Remember when I said I wasn't gonna post fanfics? I lied. I'm gonna post just this one as an excuse to have some Johnshi in my life but also because its rare I write a fic that isnt a self indulgent oc fic

This is just a lil fic where Kenshi comforts Johnny after a stunt on set leaves him with an injured ankle, mostly cute banter. Also sorry if the formatting looks weird, i dont normally post fics to tumblr so idk how to space my paragraphs like I do on google docs.

Click. Step. Click. Step.

The Hollywood actor carried himself on his crutches across the room, from the door to his living room couch, where he saw Kenshi waiting in anticipation.

“Honey, I'm home,” Johnny announced in a parody of those old movies, how he loved his dumb movie references.

“Doesn't sound like good news. Are those crutches?” Kenshi asked, judging by the sound and the patterns of the sound. Though he usually relied on Sento for sight, he hardly ever felt the need to in a casual setting, so it rested in the mantle above the fireplace.

“Yeup. Doc says I'll need ‘em for a few weeks, a month at most.”

Kenshi crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch. “Was that stunt still worth it?”

Johnny snorted, “Totally, the shot came out perfect! You may not know this, but I do all of my own stunts. Impresses everybody when I tell them that!” He dropped a small paper bag of his prescribed painkillers on the coffee table and sat next to Kenshi, wincing as he lifted his ankle to rest it on the same table.

“Aren't stuntmen used so the real actors don't get hurt?”

“I mean- yeah. But don't worry, they're just gonna film everything else until I come back, which should be in no time. I'm just built different.”

Kenshi could just hear the cocky smile, causing him to shake his head in disbelief, but he couldn't hold back the small bit of laughter at Johnny’s pride and confidence. “Alright, but it looks like it's my turn to take care of you again.”

“Don't sweat it, Ken doll, I can take care of myself. You've already helped me enough, and you've got yourself to look after,” He noted all too seriously. Obviously there still rested some guilt in his heart over Mileena's rabid attack that day.

“That ankle needs to rest. That movie needs you and you need the money from it.” Undeniable. Johnny was still getting back on his feet (not literally now) after a messy and expensive divorce, he needed whatever work he could get at the moment. “You just let me know when you need something.”

Johnny sighed as he looked down at his injured ankle. These next few weeks were going to be the most boring while of his life.

Kenshi seemed to know Johnny wasn't feeling so good by the sudden quietness, not even a silly request from his offer. When Johnny of all people was quiet, there was a problem. “Johnny? You alright?”

“Yeah… I've just never been good at sitting still and doing nothing, you know? Now I can't even use my own pool in my living room,” He complained, as if having a pool in the living room was a normal thing.

“Come on, Johnny, you still have a whole mansion. Unless your attention span really is that small, you're not gonna get bored,” Kenshi lovingly poked at him. “It’s not like you're alone either.”

Johnny noded with a small smile of comfort. “That's right, I've got you, my best friend, boyfriend, and assigned FBI agent,” Johnny joked. Gods, not again with the assigned FBI agent meme. “And hey, maybe we can invite Kung Lao and Raiden over to hang out. You think Liu Kang would wanna drop by?”

Kenshi gave an amused smirk. “Probably not, but Kung Lao, might.”

Johnny looked down at the table again, spotting a marker. He groaned and wheezed as he leaned over to grab it, trying not to move his ankle off the table as his finger tips barely touched the marker.

“Johnny what are you-” Before he could finish his question, he felt a marker tapping against his hand.

“You wanna be the first to sign my cast?” Johnny offered, trying to play it off cool but his excitement was slipping past in his voice.

“You mean Hollywood’s megastar wants my autograph?” Kenshi teased. He took the marker into his hand, and Johnny guided his hand down to his cast. Confidently, Kenshi began writing his name.

“Not bad writing for someone who can't really see,” Johnny complimented, meaning it obviously and trying to make it sound like that rather than a mockery.

“I still know the motions of writing, that's enough to get by.” Of course Johnny hadn't seen Kenshi's messier writing at his job and maybe it should stay that way.

The real surprise was the small heart he drew right below his own name. Kenshi wasn't so into PDA, nor into cutesy stuff like that, so it caught Johnny off guard to see the small display. It wasn't like people didn't know they were dating, Johnny was way too into showing off their love and too loud to keep that secret, but it was rather that Kenshi was a more subtle lover when it came to their relationship, preferring to keep things behind doors. Still, it was a nice surprise, and at least now it made the cast way better to look at! Of course Johnny was already pulling out his phone to snap a photo of it to post to his socials.

“You're posting your cast, aren't you?” Kenshi reasonably accused.

“Gotta let the fans know production might be on hold.”

“Is that it? Or are you bragging about us again?”

Johnny snickered, meaning Kenshi was right. “Okay, you got me, but how can I not show you off? You're the coolest! A blind swordsman? Dating Hollywood's biggest hit? We're like a power couple!”

If Kenshi still had his eyeballs, he'd be lovingly rolling them, but admittedly it was kind of cute seeing how enthusiastic Johnny was about their relationship- and kind of funny to think about considering they were previously rivals over Sento.

Kenshi leaned in to press a kiss to Johnny's cheek, and he could feel the wrinkles of a smile under his lips. “Looks like you're feeling better about that ankle.”

“As long as I have you by my side, this injury is gonna be a breeze!” Now it was Johnny's turn to lean in, this time leaning to rest his head on Kenshi with closed eyes and a content smile. Kenshi reciprocated by wrapping an arm around Johnny to hold him. “Shit, that medicine they gave me is starting to catch up.”

“You get sleepy off of a couple Tylenols,” Kenshi playfully quipped, making Johnny laugh.

“Just saying it's a good excuse to nap on you! Unless you're gonna tele-fling me to bed again.”

Kenshi shook his head. “Maybe when your ankle isn't as broken. Right here is fine, just keep your ankle up.”

“Sweet,” Johnny happily murmured as he felt himself starting to doze off. Damn, Tylenol really did knock him out.

[erimeows]

Partnership

It’s warm as you and Seven sit on the roof of his house, watching the stars in the dark night sky.

When he thinks you aren’t paying attention to him, he does his best to memorize your face; (s/c) skin, (e/c) eyes, a kind smile, kissable lips. God, how he wishes he could kiss you. Briefly, the thought crosses his mind. He’s always loved making impulse decisions. Really, he could just reach over and press his lips against yours right now… But he knows he shouldn’t- for so many reasons.

First off, you don’t truly know him. You know that he has a dark past and that he’s a secret agent- you’re his ‘partner’ who he’s frequently paired with for missions that require more than one person. Still, you don’t truly understand his personal life, even though you frequent his house and spend time with him whenever the two of you don’t have much to do. Maybe… If you saw the person outside of the jokes, the hacking skills, and the fun nights spent speeding down empty roads after successful missions, you wouldn’t like him. Who would? That person- the one who he is when he’s sad and alone- is insecure, angry, and bitter. Someone as wonderful as you deserves better.

At least, that’s what Seven convinces himself. While he’s certain that you would reject him, the scariest part is what would happen if you didn’t. If you, another agent, fell in love and got into a relationship with him. What if you died? What if he died? What if his father or the agency came after you? It’s not worth the risk. You’re a dangerous, talented agent, but you’re not nearly as dangerous as Seven. 

So, he can’t pursue you, no matter how desperately he wants to do so. He trusts you more than anyone. That’s good enough. 

“Tell me a secret,” You say, turning your head to look over at the man. Your (h/l) (h/c) hair fans out beneath your head, and your gorgeous (e/c) eyes sparkle underneath the starlight. “A really good one.”

“I have lots of secrets,” Seven responds, turning to face you as well. Curiosity laces your face, but much like him, you remain careful- guarded. One hand remains in your pocket at most times, most likely gripping the handle of a weapon. “But none of them are good. You know what they say- no one can know about the pasts of cats and hackers.”

“They also say that superheroes tend to have tragic backstories. So, Mr. Defender of Justice, why don’t you tell me yours?”

“You really wanna know about my life? You swear you won’t tell a soul?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’m the illegitimate son of the Prime Minister. Seriously, the guy’s been trying to kill me for years, it’s kind of embarrassing how bad of a job he’s done,” Seven explains rather casually, even offering a shrug when you shoot him a confused glance. “I have a twin brother who means the world to me, but I went into this line of work to support him escaping from our abusive mom… And, as I’m sure you know, because of the work we do, I can never see him again.”

You hum and sit up, placing your hands on the concrete of the roof. You reach down to touch Seven, and while he doesn’t stop you, he flinches. You caress his face, then run a gentle hand through his hair. He stops to wonder, has he ever been touched like this? Maybe, when he was little, he and Saeran would cuddle on the floor of the basement to stay warm during the winter- comb each other’s dirty hair out with their fingers to keep it from getting matted- hug each other before Seven went anywhere, just in case it was the last time, because with their father hunting them down and their mother hating their existence, ‘tomorrow’ and ‘later’ were never guaranteed. 

Seven pauses, his eyes fluttering shut. This relationship that the two of you have developed is far deeper than it should be for two coworkers who are strictly forbidden from developing attachments. Seven doesn’t even deserve to have what’s left of RFA, and now he has you, too? No- he shouldn’t let you get too close. At least, not any closer than you are now. Everyone around him always ends up miserable, hurt, or dead. 

“I hope you get to see your brother again,” You whisper.

“I think,” Seven pauses, allowing his eyes to flutter shut. “It’s best that I don’t. I’m not who I was back then.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Seven opens his eyes to glance at you. You’re hovering over him slightly, your hand now resting against the side of his neck. He’s forced to push away the memories of his mother’s two hands wrapped around it, to compose himself instead of freaking out on instinct. 

“...I don’t know. Different isn’t always bad, but I’m a dangerous person. I want him to be safe.”

“Then… I hope he’s safe- always- if that’s what’ll make you happy.”

“Yeah. I hope so, too,” Seven smiles and pulls away from you to sit up. You rest your head on his shoulder. The smell of your shampoo- your perfume- your everything- floods his senses. He doesn’t stop you, even if he knows he should. “Hey, why don’t you tell me a secret?”

“I don’t really have any. I had a talent for this sort of thing… Did acrobatics for a while, learned how to hack, did some self defense classes and weapons training when I was young… A friend of a friend told me about the agency at a time I was desperate for money and I went ahead with it because I was bored with my life and wanted a fresh start; to be someone exciting, doing something meaningful,” You sigh. “Though, I was convinced by the friend of a friend that the agency was doing good work rather than… Well, rather than what we’re doing, but by the time I realized, I was already in far too deep. You know as well as I do what happens if we leave.”

Seven swallows. Neither of you have to say it- if you leave the agency, they keep sending the remaining agents after you until you’re dead and not a trace of you or your former life is left. Supposedly, they go after your loved ones, too. The agency shouldn’t know about Saeran, but now Seven has to worry about you and the RFA, too. If he or you ever wanted to leave, you’d have to do it together and in a way where no one could find you. You’d have to uproot your entire lives, go to a different country, and potentially even cut contact with all of your friends.

“Right.”

“It’s past midnight,” You stand up and stretch, looking at the stars one last time. “I should get going.”

Seven glances at his phone, only to see a barrage of notifications on the RFA messaging app. He thinks to convince you to stay the night- to sleep in his bed while he takes the couch so he can enjoy your presence for a little while longer- but the thought dies on his tongue at the sight of a new user on the notification bar.

MC has entered the chatroom.

…What the hell?

“Yeah,” Seven half-heartedly nods and rushes to open the messenger. The messages move so fast from the organization’s panic at an unauthorized user that he can barely read them. “See you later, (y/n). Text me when you get home safe.”

~

The next twenty four hours prove to be Seven’s personal hell. Whilst dealing with the chaos of MC joining the organization very suddenly, V’s peculiar reaction to the situation, Yoosung’s paranoia, and ‘Unknown’ trying to hack into both the messenger and Seven’s personal devices, Seven gets assigned a mission by the agency that he has to go on alone. 

Normally, the two of you have a system; Seven hacks into the place’s data bases to get their information, you go in and do what needs to be done- whether that be stealing something, gathering extra information, or even killing and kidnapping someone. It works beautifully, so when he was told that this was a situation delicate enough that he would have to do it all alone, he panicked.

The panic… Was for a good reason.

After finishing the mission, Seven is barely able to drive himself home. He considers calling Vanderwood for help before remembering that the man would only scold him and drag him back home to catch up on the hacking work he’s been neglecting lately. So, he drives through the late night- early morning- hell, he isn’t sure what time it is. All he’s sure of is that the wind is blowing through his blood-matted hair as it glides over the top of his convertible’s sunroof, and that he is incredibly dizzy when he arrives home.

He parks the car in his parking garage and forgets to close the damn thing before stumbling out and heading towards the door. He grumbles the passcode to the security system in Arabic and trudges in, only to nearly jump out of his skin when he sees you sitting on the living room couch.

And, for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other; Seven leaning against the doorway, you sitting on the couch, his golden eyes pouring into your (e/c) ones. There’s normally such a casual nature between the two of you. Seven hasn’t ever seen you upset, even, but as you stand up and march towards him, he can see the concern and anger on your face at seeing his injuries.

“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?” You question.

“(y/n),” Seven walks past you and into the living room, unable to meet your eyes for any longer. The house was a mess when he left with chip packets, soda cans, and dirty laundry strewn about, but now, it’s spotless. You must’ve cleaned it for him… He can’t help but feel guilty. “What are you doing here?”

“You haven’t messaged me in hours. Zen said you missed seven chat rooms in a row today,” You frown and walk towards Seven. Seven rolls his eyes at the thought of Zen ratting him out- coincidentally, the actor has been your workout buddy since Seven introduced the two of you, so of course he would tell you that the normally active Seven hasn’t been online all day. He’d be lying if he said he weren’t jealous of Zen, and especially of Zen’s friendship with you, but he’s never mentioned it. He doesn’t deserve you, after all. “I just thought I’d check on you… What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Seven shakes his head and shrugs your hand off of him. Though he acts disgusted by your touch, emptiness wells up in his heart the second you clasp your hands together and stare down at the ground. “You should just go back to yours.”

“What? But no one else is here to take care of you-”

“I don’t want to be taken care of.”

“Seven, you look like shit,” You point out.

Seven shrugs again. Sure, his face is bruised, his hair and torn clothes are drenched in blood, he’s covered in sweat, and he has scrapes all over his body, but he’s seen worse. Being caught by the two guards and beaten to a pulp before securing the files and escaping is the least of what Seven has been through in his lifetime. As much as he would love to have someone around to care for him after the rougher missions like this one, he doesn’t feel as if it’s fair to subject some poor unfortunate person to being his safe haven- especially if that person is you. 

“I always look like shit.”

“I mean, maybe, but you’re usually not-” Seven coughs into his hand, effectively cutting you off as a streak of mixed spit and blood drips onto his palm. “Jesus, are you coughing up blood?”

“Nah, it’s not that bad. Just a busted lip… And I’m pretty sure a couple of my back teeth are loose,” Seven groans and sits down on the couch, wiping his palms on his dirty jeans. He’s definitely going to have to book a dental appointment soon to get his loose teeth fixed… Or maybe pulled out. Who knows. There’s a reason why you’re usually the one to do infiltration work while he’s behind the scenes on a computer; you’re much more graceful and subtle than he is, so you can get in and out of places without being caught- a skill that Seven has realized he doesn’t have. “No need to worry about it!”

Seven turns on his phone to see multiple missed chatrooms, just as you described. Even worse, the new member, MC, seems to be concerned that he’s been gone for so long. Seven quickly enters the chatroom and offers everyone a half-assed reassurance that he was just busy with work, along with some light-hearted jokes.

“What are you doing on your phone right now?” You demand, arms crossed over your chest. “Shouldn’t you be attending to- you know- this?”

Your arms are thrown up in a wild gesture to Seven’s battered body. For what must be the millionth time that night, he shrugs.

“I’ve gotta make a good impression on the new member, y’know? Don’t want her to worry too much about me- hell, none of the others really know what this work is like!”

“So you’re fine with me worrying about you, but not them?”

“(y/n),” Seven sighs, quickly excusing himself from the chatroom after finishing reassuring everyone that he was just ‘busy with work’ and that he’s ‘totally fine’. He blankly stares up at you. All along, he knew he shouldn’t have let you get so close, but… He’s a selfish man, and he can’t help himself. He does love you, but now, because he’s let you get this close to him, you’re concerned enough to waste your night on him. Maybe it was a mistake to be friends, rather than merely work partners like the two of you were instructed by the agency. “I never told you to worry about me.”

“We’re partners, Seven.”

“Yeah, we are. We’re partners at an agency that doesn’t care about us- an agency that explicitly told us not to get emotionally attached to each other to avoid situations like this! Why don’t you just leave like everyone else?”

“Why are you acting like this?” You question, clearly upset, but still somehow keeping your calm as you sit down next to Seven- perhaps too close. You don’t even seem bothered by the mix of his and other people’s blood, dirt, and dust that’s all over him. “Is it just because you’re hurt? You’ve never been this mean before- it’s like you’re a different person!”

“I’m not acting like a different person, it’s just that you never really knew me that well,” Seven admits. “I hid this side of myself for a reason, y’know…”

Tears well up in your eyes. A pang of guilt tears through Seven’s chest. Right as he considers reaching out for you, you turn your back to him. 

“So you’re telling me that every night we’ve spent together has been a lie?”

“No, it’s not-”

“If you’re going to do this, Seven, commit to it. Has it all been a lie or not? Because you’re making it sound like you’re a totally different person and that the version of you I’ve spent all this time with isn’t really you,” You turn around to look at Seven once more with tears in your eyes. Everything Seven has done to keep you at a distance has been to make sure that you’re safe. Now, though, it’s clear that he’s hurt you deeply with what he’s said. “But I don’t think you’re telling the truth. You’re pushing me away because you have your own problems… I get it, I’m not perfect either, but it’s not fair for you to assume that… That I don’t…”

“What?”

You swallow deeply, a blush on your cheeks.

“That I don’t want to be closer to you,” You finally admit, your voice barely even a whisper. Seven feels his face turn red as well. “That I don’t love you. Why else would I want to take care of you when you’re wounded? Why else would I be so worried that you disappear for a day at a time without saying anything? You think I just run around stargazing and caring for every other member of the agency I’ve been partnered with?”

“Well, no, but-” Seven argues, only for you to cut him off.

“But what? There’s no ‘buts’ here. I thought we’d made progress last night, and that I’d finally gotten you to open up… Seven, when you love someone, you don’t just want to see them at their best. You make me laugh, and you’re wonderful, but I want more than that. I want to take care of you when you’re hurt and when you’re sick, I want to be the shoulder you cry on… I want to hold your hand and make you feel better after a long day,” You start to stand up and head for the door. “If you don’t want that, though… I guess I understand. It’s my fault for getting my hopes up, considering our line of work. I’ll just leave-”

“Wait!” Seven objects, to which you look over at him again. A shocked expression takes over your face. He wants, more than anything, to tell you that he loves you, but the words seem to die on his tongue. He hasn’t said them in years. So, instead, he starts with- “Please… Take care of me. I want you to, too, and… I’ll cry on your shoulder, if I need to.”

You smile at that, then walk back over to where Seven is sitting and offer him your hand.

“C’mon. Let’s go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up, yeah? I’ll wash your hair.”

“Okay,” Seven agrees and takes your hand. You help him up, then guide him to his bathroom. “But only if I can wash yours, too, ‘kay?”

You laugh.

“Sure thing, Seven.”

~

Later that night, the two of you are in Seven’s bed, lying side by side. You both smell of his bubblegum shampoo and soap, and though he misses the smell of yours that normally lingers on you, he’s relieved that the two of you are finally settled after the night you’ve had. His bruises have been iced, his cuts are bandaged, and your warmth envelops his body as you rest your head on his chest and curl into his side.

“Thanks for fixing me up and keeping me company, (y/n). I really don’t deserve it after how I acted earlier… I’m sorry,” Seven apologizes as he reaches over for the nightstand lamp. 

While the two of you didn’t discuss it, he assumes you’re staying the night- or, he hopes you are, at least. 

“It’s no problem. Even superheroes need a little help sometimes,” You chuckle and press a kiss against the exposed skin of Seven’s shoulder. “Seven…”

“Hey,” Seven nuzzles into your hair and kisses the top of your head. “My name is Saeyoung, so you can call me that when we’re alone.”

“Okay, then, Saeyoung. Is that all you have to say? Because I think there’s something else you’re forgetting to tell me.”

“No, um… Well, I don’t say these words often, so it’s taking me a lot of courage to say them, but I love you, (y/n).”

“I love you too,” You respond and pull the blankets tightly around the two of you before settling against Saeyoung. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, (y/n).”

[christinesficrecs]

Lost fics. Any help would be appreciated! ❤️

...

Hi! I'm looking for a fic that was based on Léon The Professional, though Stiles was older than Mathilda. Derek was the hitman, and Stiles's family had been murdered. If I remember correctly, Isaac and Scott had been his little brothers.

Would you be able to put your finger on this fic? "stiles has magic and he made a deal with a powerful witch to protect beacon hills, but it supposedly took away his love for derek in the process (or maybe Derek made the deal), except that he's growing a garden to break the spell" My google-fu is failing me. I know I've read it before, but going through my history is a month-long endeavor! I think Derek is a deputy and he keeps running into Stiles and it's not clear what has happened between them at first. I think Stiles is referred to as a hedge witch at some point? que tu m’aimais encore by magneticwave | 19.9K Wolves mate for life, don’t they?

I think this fic has been deleted off ao3 and I'm very sad. De-aged Derek. He and Stiles become a couple. Stiles ends up a human alpha of the entire pack. (TBH it's rather porny and there's voyeur/exhibition) and there's a lake house or beach house. Eventually Derek goes back to regular Derek.

Hi! Bit of a long one: there's this fanfic that is uncompleted, where Stiles was in the Hale House when he saw a crystal ball (??) on the floor, got down low to grab it and fell through the floor, waking up in the past. He met teenage Derek in a diner with Laura, started talking to them, and decided to protect Derek from Kate before he ever met her. Derek is a lifeguard at the lake where Stiles goes to monitor him and there was a scene where Derek lapped the lake to impress Stiles. Stiles also squats in the Stilinski House to survive and Sheriff doesn't know who he is. Do you know the fic? I've been looking for it for forever

Hi! I have been trying to find a teen wolf and marvel cross over fic. It’s where I believ Tony stark and Claudia where best friend growing up and fell in love. And then she gets pregnant with his baby(aka stiles). Stiles finds out from a bunch of letters but keeps it to himself until I believe Tony get captured and goes missing for months.( iron man 1). Then he goes into a depression and won’t eat or anything until the day Tony is found. Also involves when aliens attack and stiles freaks out again and makes it his mission to go to New York and meet him. Hidden Truths by Harmonious113 | 212.4K | WIP Claudia Stilinkski always did her best to hide the truth from her family-her past, her family, the boy she couldn’t quite seem to let go of- to spare John and Stiles from the heartbreak. Stiles finds a trunk of letters and pictures unearthing the truth. His father is Tony Stark.

It was a Teen Wolf Sterek fic, an au with magic. Claudia either adopted stiles or was his bio mom and pretended to adopt him, but stiles had a familiar who constantly turned into dead grotesque bodies and the only person who accepted them fully (and laughed at the familiar being gruesome) was laura. laura dies somehow and derek comes in. I think laura and stiles were partners for the magic things law enforcement? I remember that they thought stiles might have killed laura/tried to pin it on him, but after lauras death derek takes over as stiles' partner. I remember one scene with lydia and maybe heather and stiles with candles? I'm pretty sure both lyds and stiles lived with claudia. by the end of the fic the familiar sacrifices itself to save stiles and his friends from the argents, and I'm pretty sure there's a scene where ally defects from her aunt/grandpa. (There's) Sulphur in Our Blood by WonderWolf | 210.9K | Explicit | WIP Secret Agent AU where Derek blames Stiles for his sister’s death and Stiles is pretty sure that Derek’s going to murder him. As if that weren’t enough to deal with, Stiles’ familiar keeps having public breakdowns

Hi Team! Hoping the community can come through on finding two fics... First one - Stiles gets a stressful job in IT (poss in San Fran?) and starts hallucinating rich Derek drinking posh coffee in NYC. After several hallucinations of Derek being all "you really need a new job," it turns out that Derek is real, is an alpha, and Stiles is fated to be his emissary. The Sun to Rise by andavs | 7.5K Stiles has an imaginary friend. He's kind of a dick.

Second one - (which may have been deleted from AO3) is a canon divergent S1 AU. It hits the beats of S1 but instead Scott doesn't hesitate when Derek offers him the chance to kill Peter and possibly reverse the bite. Scott kills Peter and is human again. The main thing I remember is after the fact, Stiles visits Derek at the burned down Hale house and says something like "it's like none of it really happened." And Derek levels him with a sour wolf look and says "it happened." Timshel by jsea | 12.5K Derek lets Scott kill Peter for the cure at the end of S1. This is the story of how that choice changes everyone's fate. "Sir, you should know..." Derek starts to say, then snaps his mouth closed when the Sheriff takes one hand off the steering wheel, and holds it up in a halting gesture. "You're not a bad kid, Derek." "I'm a werewolf," Derek says, before he can think about it. For the first time in his life the word feels dirty, like something to be ashamed of. It makes him feel like a little kid again, using a curse word without understanding what it means.

I can't remember if it was a steter or sterek fic. It's a short humourous fic where Stiles has an injury but he was adamant that bandaids could fix it and it was at least a six inch long-ass gash or something. If this sounds familiar to anyone? Thanks!

Looking for a fic where I don’t remember much just Isaac coming home to Derek trashing the loft and saying something like “I just saw stiles, he reeks of sex” then it cut scene to something else. I don’t think it was a king fic but I could be wrong. Thank you so much in advance Noticed by forestofbabel | 35.1K Stiles left on a Tuesday. Nobody Noticed.

[ohwowimlonley]

DEAD OR ALIVE - dean winchester

Hey hey! This was for @fluffiest-dreams ‘s new years secret Santa thing that I was supposed to post literally TWO MONTHS ago but uhh loads of stuff happened

Anyways I hate literally this whole thing and the ending is really bad so I’m v v sorry

So anyways! This is my official entry or @immrbrightsideeee based on the song Dead Or Alive by Bon Jovi <3

Warnings - typical spn content, smutty mentions, fem!reader, Dean Winchester is a big flirt

Word count - 1104

Dean Winchester is a wanted man. There’s no question about that. It’s very apparent that the man is no saint, everyone’s seen it on the news. The list goes on for crimes he’s committed: arson, murder, assault, grave dessicration; every strange offense one can imagine, Dean Winchester has done them all.

By no means does that mean he’s a scary man. His smile lights up a room with the smallest of efforts. It’s easy to see why a man with such beauty can charm his way out of precinct after precinct with nothing but a grin and a wink.

-

You wish you could say you weren’t amused by his antics when he strolled into your bullpen, hands cuffed in front of him, fingers curled into fists and blood steadily dribbling down his chin. His brother, Sam, wasn’t too far behind, though he seemed less confident with his head hung and hair shielding his face. Dean was brought straight into your office, with a nod from your sergeant and a playful blown kiss from Dean.

“Leave him with me, Sarge. Have the paperwork for the other one on my desk as soon as,” you waved a hand in dismissal at the man, who backed out of the room with a ‘yes, ma’am’ and a glare to your perp.

“‘The other one’? Yikes, what did poor Sammy ever do to you?” The older Winchester seats himself in the armchair across from your desk without asking permission, grinning up at you and ignoring the unwavering stream of blood now staining his already red flannel.

“You’re a wanted man, Mr Winchester,” you ignore his jab, thankful that you can control yourself enough to stem the blush threatening your cheeks.

“I’ve noticed,” he raises his chained wrists with a smug smile, jingling the metal together until you give him a warning glare.

You cross your arms and lean them on the deep mahogany of your desk. Dean mirrors you. You raise an eyebrow, “mister Winchester, I feel like I should inform you that the only way you’re getting out of this station with your brother tonight is by telling me the whole truth,”

“Oh yeah? Well, sweetheart, since you’re so well informed about me an’ Sammy, you know that your little dog crates don’t tend to keep us locked up too long,” he shuffles forwards, leans his bound hands on the thick wood of your desk, and gives you a pathetic excuse for a death glare.

“Oh, I get it Dean. You escape every time someone puts you somewhere you don’t like,” you push his restrained hands from your table with a metal ruler, hoping to save the, as of yet, untarnished grains of wood from his blood, “which is why I’m not locking you up,”

“Say what now?” He blinks rapidly, not quite believing what he’s heard, “so I-”

“Oh, you’re not off the hook or anything. You’re still a fugitive from the law, and every police precinct and FBI agent in the country is after you. But,” you lean in close, your breath mixing with his. Dean’s eyes flutter shut, briefly, before snapping them open again, “if you give me some information, I can help you disappear,”

“What information ‘you looking for?” He put his elbows back onto your desk, presenting his wrists to you as you reach for your loop of keys to unchain him. He rubs at his wrists as the cuffs clatter to the desk with a metallic clang.

With his wrists free, Dean rises from his chair and circles round your office, settling down behind you with his arms on either side of your body, chin just above your shoulder as he peers at your laptop. You try your best not to shudder as his breath caresses you exposed neck, holding in your own breath and forcing yourself to behave, “well, from the inventory I took of your car, you are quite the expert on weapons,”

“Guess you could say that,” you can practically feel his grin from behind you. You click on and off a few tabs, bringing up a grotesque image of one of your recent murder investigation.

“So, tell me what did that,” you tap a fingernail on your screen, crane your neck to catch a glimpse of the man standing above you. With his advanced height, all you can see is the underside of his stubbled chin, the rivulets of blood sliding down his neck, down his collarbones, dipping under his shirt, down to his-

“That’s no gun, miss thing,” he looks down at you, unsurprised to see how you’re already staring at you, “that’s no ordinary weapon. See that there?”

He leans in closer, blanketing his hand over yours, on top of your mouse so he can zoom in on the image. He doesn’t smell like you thought he would, not like cigarettes or dead bodies, or like he’d been drowned in moonshine. He smells surprisingly pleasant, motel shampoo that isn’t all bad, spearmint toothpaste that’s smeared on his shirt collar, worn leather, and a hint of whiskey on his breath.

“Mmm,” you nod dumbly, not quite paying attention to whatever he’s explaining. Your ears feel as if they’re filled with cotton while he speaks, the low rumble of his voice has you clenching your thighs shut and rubbing your lips together. Dean must sense something, because he lowers his chin even further, turning his head and letting his lips brush against your ear as he whispers.

“If you’re gonna be staring at me until I give you some attention,” his breath coaxes goosebumps to rise up all over your body, “would you at least undo a few of those buttons on your blouse so I get a good view?”

“Ex- excuse me?” The authority in your voice falters as you meet his gaze, causing him to smile even deeper. He leans even closer to you this time, tongue flicking against your earlobe with every movement of his lips.

“C’mon, babygirl, I can tell that you want me,” his hand, surprisingly gentle despite himself, sets itself on the small of your back, thumb stroking back and forth over your sensitive skin.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you insist, leaning into his touch nevertheless, biting your lip to contain a whimper as his calloused fingers dip past the hemline of your jeans, tugging on the lace borders of your panties.

“You don’t?” His hand ventured further, fingers scooping through your lips before pulling back and revealing them to you. Strings of arousal connected his fingers together, steadily dripping down onto his awaiting palm, “what’s all this for then?”

[pinkiepiebones]

Everything Stays

It was an accident. (Written for the prompt Vampire!Renfield)

It had been weeks since Robert had moved in with Rebecca. The Sunrise Towers were still locked down with FBI and CIA and ATF and about a dozen other organizations with acronyms on their jackets scoured the scene that so oddly resembled the scene inside the Lobo mansion. Neither of them knew just how long Robert would be away from his home, his first home in over a century that had been wholly his. Weeks had passed. Then Robert lost a tooth.

.

It had been hours after the fight and hours after bringing Robert's friends back from the dead when they arrived at her place, both deciding it might be best to lie low a while. Rebecca got glasses of water, one for her and one for him, and they sat on the couch in silence. Then Rebecca noticed how badly Robert's hands were shaking.

"Oh, shit," she said gently, setting her glass on the coffee table and turning her attention to him. "You still have his fangs in your hands."

She reached over and took the glass from his trembling fingers and held his hands steady. She looked up and realised neither of them had bothered trying to wipe the blood off his face. Tears were falling, breaking up the black stains.

Rebecca ran a bubbling bath and convinced him to get in (keeping a towel around his waist for his own sense of modesty) and she sat beside the tub with a pair of pliers and carefully pulled one of the fangs out while Robert scrubbed his face and hair.

"Gross," Rebecca said after she pulled the first one. She got up to toss the fang in the trash. Robert held his hand up so he could see the hole between the index and middle knuckle. He made this weird chuckling sob noise and leaned back in the tub, trying to rinse his hair.

Rebecca opened some drawers and muttered about a first aid kit, then she snapped her fingers. "Hang on, I'm gonna get the blood. Probably works better than stitches, right?"

Rebecca disappeared and came back and used a tablespoon to ladle the blackish-red liquid out of the Tupperware jug and onto Robert's hand. They both watched as the blood seeped into the hole and invigorated the tissues and skin into speedily repairing.

Robert flexed his fingers and looked for evidence of the healing, any sort of ridge or scar. Seeing nothing but skin, he sighed "Suppose that's a good sign," and raised his other hand so Rebecca could extract the remaining fang. She held his hand and readied the pliers.

"Whaddya mean?"

"Oh, just- it's silly, really, but it had occurred to me that I might get turned. Might be Dracula's final 'fuck you' to me."

The fang slid out with an audible pop. Rebecca set the pliers on the bathroom counter.

"What?"

Robert smiled almost shyly. "Ah, well, since I ingested his blood- it's different than having it spilled on you to heal you, you know, even though it still heals it's the matter of consuming it-" He shook his head. "I need to not be in a tub to explain this, I think." Rebecca nodded, not quite understanding, and spooned blood onto the hole in Robert's hand.

Later, after he was dried and wearing some of Rebecca's gym clothes ("they'll look weird 'cause you're too tall, but it beats sittin' around naked"), Robert explained.

"So as I understand it- ah, from what Dracula shared, or deemed it necessary for me to know- vampire blood heals. Obviously. But, it only works as a healing agent when applied to whatever wound there is. Consuming it is different. It's-"

He hesitated.

"It comes down to sharing blood," he said, ducking his head. "He had my blood before, you know, mostly out of desperation due to lack of a proper meal, and I had his, just once, when he m-made me..."

"A familiar."

Robert nodded. Rebecca crossed her arms.

"His blood got in your mouth and you came back to life and saved me," Rebecca said slowly, trying to piece together scraps of evidence in this case.

"But," Robert said, "then his fangs pierced me. So we consumed each other's blood and he bit me. Not in the conventional sense of it, but those were his, how should I say- his full 'vampire mode' fangs."

"Which means-?"

"It means that I could very well become a vampire now."

Rebecca stared.

"I'm no expert on the matter, but the pieces of it are all there." Robert smiled at his friend. "There's no scarring, which is good, as the true fangs leave scars, but, still....

"If I turn, you'll kill me, right?"

"Wh-"

"I don't want that life," Robert said. "I spent a century serving a monster. I couldn't live with myself if I become one as well."

"Robert, I-"

"I don't even know how long it takes for someone to turn," he continued. "It's not an instantaneous thing, I know that much." He picked at the skin around his nails. "I'm sorry to, um, dump all of this on you, Rebecca. Let's forget I said anything, hm?"

.

It had been weeks since the conversation. Rebecca had given no answer then, not wanting to confront the notion of murdering her friend. Neither of them talked about it after that, anyway. Robert went out in the daylight hours without a problem. He ate human food. All was well.

One evening after a DRAAG meeting, as they were walking to Rebecca's car, Robert stopped in his tracks. Rebecca turned around. "What's wrong, Rob?"

Robert made a face and fished his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket (Rebecca had teased him about it, saying only old men who wear socks with sandals carry those). He spread the kerchief over one hand like an improvised glove and reached into his mouth and pulled a tooth out.

"What the fuck?"

Robert stared at the tooth. "Well, this is concerning," he said softly. "That didn't hurt."

Rebecca felt something cold slither up her spine. She pulled Robert to the car and they both got in and she drove them back to her place in relative silence. She parked and got out, saying "I'll find a number for a dentist, you just, um, chill, I guess" as she quickly walked to the door. She unlocked the front door and walked in, expecting Robert to follow.

He was standing on the porch.

"Rob?"

Robert swallowed. He tried to smile.

"I can't-"

Rebecca groaned in frustration. "What, all of the sudden I gotta invite y-" Her eyes widened. Robert looked at the ground.

"Nope, nuh uh. You're fuckin' with me." Rebecca grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him inside and she felt him jerk away from her touch. She stared, bewildered.

"Please," Robert whimpered.

Rebecca threw her hands up in annoyance, and in fear. "Alright, fine! I invite you in! Come in, grab a snack, watch some TV, fucking whatever!"

Robert stepped across the threshold.

.

By the time Rebecca had made a dentist appointment with someone who wasn't big on asking questions (or asking for insurance), Robert had pulled more teeth. He was sweating and shaking and after Rebecca tried to get a protein shake in him ("Doesn't seem like a good night to cook," she tried to joke) he went to bed in the little guest room he had been boarding in since Dracula's death.

Rebecca took her laptop into her bedroom and locked the door and researched until she could no longer read the screen. She drifted off, but startled awake when she felt someone standing over her.

Robert was staring down at her with a sharp grin. His teeth had grown back.

"Rebecca," he whispered, "I'm feeling much better. But I am absolutely famished."

Rebecca startled awake. She jumped out of bed and dashed down the hall to the guest room. A small wave of relief hit her when she saw Robert curled up on the bed. She stepped in and sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his sweat-slicked hair. He was still trembling and muttering, and looked paler than usual.

"You're just sick," Rebecca said, unsure if she was trying to reassure him or herself. "You'll get better."

"No, I won't," Robert murmured. He looked at her with reddened eyes. "I'm- it's happening, and you need to be ready to kill me."

"C'mon, Rob, it's not-"

Robert sat up and snarled at her, exposing new, pointed teeth. "No human sickness causes your fucking teeth to fall out and fangs to grow in their place," he hissed. He blinked, and retreated, curling into a tight little ball on the bed.

"Drag me out into the sun, stake me to the ground, do whatever it takes. I beg of you."

Rebecca shook her head adamantly. "No, no, there's gotta be something we can do, some old myth out there..."

Robert moaned. "Christ, Rebecca, I- I can hear your blood flowing inside you. I can smell your blood. Oh, I am starving. When the sun sets you will not be safe."

Rebecca looked at the window. The curtains were pulled shut but a sliver of morning light had slithered in, a thin orange blade in the dark room.

Rebecca had to prepare.

[daydreamgoddess14]

First Impressions - Chapter 8 - the Finale

So I think I always knew that this was the last chapter but it's taken me an entire day to get this down and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it... maybe it's because it's an ending and I'm never very good at endings. Ahh well.

Thank you to everyone who's read or engaged with this, I've had the best time writing it and I'm definitely not finished writing for River - I have another one just being planned out at the moment, and now it's Season 4 time and I've found my fellow Jack Lowden obsessives then there is no plan to remove myself from this lovely place! 🥰

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7

Masterlist

Chapter 8

“Are you around this morning? I need coffee and I could do with not being left alone with my own brain for a little while.”

It had been a long time since River had woken up to that text message. Mostly because he couldn’t remember the last time he and Lexie had spent a night apart, he racked his brain for a moment. Last month when she’d gone out with Sophie and Jess? No, he’d picked them up at 2am and they’d sung drunkenly down his ear all the way home… But she’d made it very, very clear that last night they would absolutely not spend the night together. He did try to point out that him leaving at 1am didn’t really count but she’d insisted with that determined, stubborn look that he loved so much and he couldn’t resist. He dutifully kissed her goodnight and went home to his cold, empty bed. They met at their usual coffee shop, he was there first, as usual, waiting with two croissants and two coffees. She’d appeared in the top of the stairwell to the underground and he noted the tiny wince that crossed her face, her knee still with some niggling pain even after so long.

“You’re here,” she grinned, greeting him with a kiss. “I missed you.”

“Yeah, we’re not doing that again.” He told her.

“But you’re my good luck charm! We have to have coffee when I’m in court.” 

“Agreed, but next time we will both leave from wherever we’re both sleeping.”

“Aww, and here was me thinking you’d be grateful to have me not tossing and turning next to you.”

“I put up with the tossing and turning because the view in the morning is worth it.” She looked away, blushing.

“Hush, you.” He leaned in with a sly smile and spoke quietly in her ear.

“Lexie, I’ve seen you naked more times than… well not enough times, actually. Never, ever enough times, but quite a few times. I don’t think you need to be shy anymore. Also,” he paused, kissing her quickly, “It’s the best view I’ve ever seen.”

“Now you’re just being a daft sod.”

“Your daft sod. So, court?” She nodded. The nerves were evident in the way her fluttering fingers traced over his knuckles in her lap.

“Yep. There are Interpol agents coming over for the hearing. This is huge. What if it goes wrong?”

“Then I’ll be here. But it won’t, the evidence speaks for itself.” It had been a long six month wait for the trial, the initial expectation was that it would take over a year to get to court but with European involvement, they’d managed to expedite the case. 

“What if it does though, and they cancel next week?” She asked in a desperate whisper.

“They’re not going to cancel next week. Why would they do that at the last minute?” She had no answer to that, and he knew it. Rach Norman, now fully recovered, had applied for a Detective Inspector role and Andy had made it very clear that he and the detective superintendent were expecting Lexie to apply for a promotion to detective chief inspector.

“You’re right.”

“I usually am.” She laughed at last.

“You’re a lot of things River, but right is not often one of them.”

“What are the other things then?”

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

“I’m not, I’m distracting you.” He grinned, “Funny, smart, amazing in bed… feel free to chime in at any point?”

“I definitely agree with the distracting one.” He pulled a face,

“Well I’ll have to prove the others later then. Your place or mine?” They’d bounced from one apartment to the other for months, Lexie wasn’t even sure where half of her stuff was anymore.

“Yours. I’m at the gym in the morning and I think my stuff is at yours already.”

“I think most of your stuff is at mine.” He teased.

“Ugh, I know. I couldn’t find my book last night.”

“It’s by our bed.” He told her and she fell quiet. “Easiest way to find your stuff is probably to keep it all in one place.” He continued, watching her from the corner of his eye.

“Hmm. Full of good suggestions this morning, aren’t you?” She stared into her cappuccino.

“Had plenty of time alone last night, decided it was shit.” She looked up at last, a smile growing. 

“Oh yeah? And did you,” she bit her lip nervously, “did you… decide anything else?”

“Yep,” he said firmly. “I decided the best way to distract you from court was to ask you to move in with me.” Her mouth briefly formed a perfect ‘O’ before a huge smile took over.

“I think I might have been underestimating you,” she leaned in to kiss him, “you are usually right.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

“I have to go,” she sighed.

“See you later. Good luck.” He said and once again, she couldn’t stop smiling. She pressed her forehead to his and kissed him firmly before leaving him to finish his coffee.

“This is niiiiice!” Jess hissed as she passed Lexie on the stairs with a box. Lexie laughed on her way back down to the car to grab one of the last bags. She was grateful for the distraction. Following her three days on the stand in court, she’d pretty much gone straight into her final interview for the detective chief inspector position and was not so patiently waiting for the outcome. Sophie had been the one to suggest moving Lexie’s stuff into River’s apartment to pass the time. 

“Lex! Phone!” River called down from the communal landing. She slammed the car shut and ran up the single flight of stairs to take the phone from his outstretched hand. He hovered next to her.

“Lexie Andrews?” She answered, breathless. She paced the landing, listening to the caller, River could only hear her side of the conversation which consisted mainly of yeses and nos and gave him no indication of the outcome. Finally she stopped pacing and locked eyes with him. “Thank you.” She finished and hung up. She nodded, wide eyed, “I got it.” She whispered, shocked. He rushed for her, sweeping her up into a hug so tight her feet left the floor.

“I knew it.” He grinned. From out in the corridor they could hear the pop of a champagne bottle. “Come on,” he led her through the door, “welcome home.”

FIN

[mrepstein]

The Sunday Mail (Glasgow) - December 20, 1964

WHEN A BEATLE KIDDED THE ‘NEMPEROR’

RAY JONES, former member of The Dakotas, continues ‘My Wild Life With The Pop Groups’

On his way up, somebody christened Brian Epstein the ‘Nemperor,’ after his music firm, NEMS Enterprises. It stuck.

And with his kingly success came kingly trappings - a chauffeured Rolls, a Maserati, a big Belgravia apartment, a listing as one of the ‘Ten Best Dressed Men,’ etc.

Nobody on the inside now calls Epstein’s business NEMS. It’s ‘The Organisation’ - a thing bigger than all of us.

Brian sits at the centre of it all - rich and powerful.

And though his success becomes greater he is still much the same young man whom we first knew in Liverpool, and labelled ‘Mister Elegance.’

Brian hates reprimanding people - and as far as his top earners, the Beatles, go I think he gave up trying long ago!

Organisation

Even when, last July 20, he had me in his office near the London Palladium and told me I had to go I could see he was actually embarrassed by the whole bit.

I almost felt sorry for him - though, as a young married man being sacked from a £120 a week job, I suppose I should have felt sorry for myself.

The Beatles were the only people in the organisation who dared call him ‘Eppie,’ probably because he didn’t like it.

He was Brian or Mr. Epstein to everybody else.

I KNOW THEY WERE FOND OF HIM, AND RESPECTED HIM, BUT THEY OFTEN PULLED HIS LEG.

John Lennon, whom I think of as the most original personality in the Beatles, would say to him: ‘You’re only our agent’ - in that deadpan way of his.

He could always depend on this riling Brian. ‘I am not your agent,’ he would say emphatically, ‘I am your personal representative’ - which he really was.

‘Oh, ah!’ John would say.

John is a real character - with no flies on him. I always had the feeling that he was a good friend to have, but not a man to cross.

He can be scathing to people, but when he takes the mickey its usually good-humoured.

And shrewd! This year, trying to get rid of his old car, John got Brian to contact their New York agent, to see if they’d get more money for the car there - as a car ridden by a Beatle!

JOHN’S ALWAYS COMING UP WITH THE GIMMICKS.

Conscious

Having a drink with him one day I noticed his cuff-link had the name ‘Ron’ on it in big letters.

‘Who’s Ron?’ I asked.

‘Cousin of Jim,’ said John smartly - and flashed the other cuff-link, which did indeed bear the name ‘Jim.’

It was John who came up with the original idea for the Beatles’ Jacket, which swept the country. He had seen something similar in Paris some time before, and liked the idea.

But Epstein and Paul McCartney are the really clothes-conscious members of the outfit.

I always found Paul a nice guy - and the girls’ favourite, of course!

AND OF THE FOUR, THE ONE MOST CONSCIOUS OF THE GROUP’S POPULARITY AND THE NEED TO PROTECT IT.

I was in their dressing-room one day when an argument flared up between John and Paul.

Contrast

They are the driving force of the group and it’s not unnatural - as I well know! for tensions to build up in a group, even the Beatles.

John was picking up steam when he suddenly stopped, and I noticed that Paul was jabbing a finger in my direction and looking at John significantly.

The row ended right there.

Even though I was a fellow NEMS artist, they were taking no chances - following to the letter a Brian Epstein instruction that his groups should never be seen arguing publicly.

I don’t think George Harrison and Ringo Starr ever get much involved in the temperamental clashes of John and Paul.

By show business standards George is a reserved sort of fellow - though in ordinary life I guess he’d be rated a wild-oh!

Somebody once accused George of being ‘anonymous,’ and he retorted: ‘So long as I’m giving my best and getting an equal share of the take I couldn’t care less.’

That’s his attitude, and there’s a lot to be said for it.

Ringo, by contrast, is too busy enjoying the life he lives to have time for rows!

Where his energy comes from, nobody knows - but he loves dancing and being out till all hours. I think he enjoys being a Beatle more than the other three put together!

I suppose when I first heard the Beatles I was about as wrong in my judgement of them as Brian Epstein was right.

Imitation

The Dakotas, at that time, had a polished sound along the same lines as the Shadows, whom we greatly admired.

We thought ourselves the most professional group around in the North country and scoffed when people told us: ‘Wait till you hear the Beatles…’

The Beatles were in Hamburg when we heard that, but the week they came home we had the chance of working with them in the Cavern in Liverpool.

Capacity of that famous cellar was around five hundred, but we quickly found there must have been twice that number when the Beatles were appearing.

THEY MADE THAT STAGE IMMORTAL, IN FACT, IT WAS SOON TO BE CHOPPED UP AND SOLD AT FIVE-BOB-A-CHUNK AS SOUVENIRS!

I don’t know what I expected from them - just another imitation of Cliff Richard and the Shadows, I suppose, because they were all the rage at the time.

When I heard them, I thought there were out of this world - maybe too much out of this world.

No group, not even the Shadows made the same initial impression on me.

I remember thinking: ‘Here’s something completely new and fresh, it’ll be great if they can get it off the ground.’

But I didn’t think their sound was really commercial! I thought they were more of a musicians’ group FOR musicians.

Mind you, they had a rougher, original style then - like all the original Liverpool groups.

They played as they wanted, and sang a much wider range of material - including numbers which Manfred Mann and Freddie and the Dreamers later made big hits.

Resistance

Soon after, the Beatles played Manchester’s ‘Oasis’ beat club, and my judgment seemed to be right.

THEY WERE LAUGHED AT. ACCORDING TO A FRIEND OF MINE WHO RAN THE PLACE, THE EVENING WAS A NEAR-DISASTER.

People forget that the Beatles had to overcome a lot of sales-resistance before they were a success.

Their first big national disc hit, ‘Love Me Do,’ only really made it because of the fantastic support given by their Liverpool fans.

In a few months, they were to come back to that same ‘Oasis,’ and take the place by storm.