#and I feel like a really irritated secret agent

[susicheng]

⋆.˚ i spy with my little eye — l.mk

this is an 18+ work. mdni secret agent! mark x secret agent! reader warnings: death + murder, guns, knives (not used between each other) contains: oral (f receiving, mentioned m receiving), safe sex, piv, mentioned fingering, tease! mark word count: 2376

assignments like this one were always the most irritating. shoved into a tight gown, too much skin visible to any of the rich douchebags surrounding you. a knife pressing against your thigh where it’s tucked into a garter belt discreetly. an earpiece hidden by the over-the-top updo drowned in gallons of hairspray. the sickening sweet scent of perfume lingering on your skin to appeal to the prey. 

the only consolation was knowing your agency wasn’t the only one with commissions for tonight. with this many wealthy men and women in one place, there had to be other targets beyond your own. though, you couldn’t help but hope that meant you’d see who you were really watching for.

that’s how these things always went. you kept an eye on the pig you were assigned to dispose of, and another on the man who erased their touches with his tongue and teeth.

it didn’t take long. you spotted the target before finishing your first glass of wine. so much for a pleasant conversation before enduring the leering glances and clumsy flirting from someone old enough to be your father.

time to play the game. with a final sip of wine and a subtle adjustment to your dress, you moved toward him. a smirk curled your lips as you approached, feigning a stumble to fall into his arms. his annoyance at first contact quickly melted into intrigue as he took in your fluttering lashes and too-innocent expression. you were in.

too many lingering touches, too many thinly veiled innuendos, and far too many explicit remarks later, he was convinced to “find somewhere more private.” by now, the powder slipped into his drink should have started working. his movements slowed, his steps unsteady as the two of you entered a private room.

the door shut behind you two. a hand slid to your waist, and then up, up, up. he didn’t hesitate to cop a feel before pressing his greasy hand firmly against your mouth. you felt the cold press of a gun barrel to your temple. 

“pretty young things like you only approach me for two reasons.” he hissed.

he cocked the gun.

“you either want me dead, or you want to be spoiled.”

“judging by this little thing…” he used the gun to push your hair behind your ear, tap, tap, tapping on the earpiece previously hidden beneath it. his voice lowered to a whisper. “you’re here for the first one.”

it wasn’t the first time a target had figured you out. honestly, it was refreshing that he realized attractive women don’t usually flock to men like him. not that it made him any less deserving of a bullet.

he didn’t get the chance to finish you. with a quick twist and a knee to the groin, the gun was yours, and he was on the floor. now, it was your turn to press the barrel to his forehead.

“you’re smarter than you look,” you sneered. “still slow, though. that wine wasn’t just alcohol, y’know?” 

his grin was sharp, defiant. his hand shot up your dress, pulling your knife from its hiding spot and plunging it into your thigh before you could dodge. instinct made you pull the trigger. 

the gunshot echoed, his blood painting your dress a deep burgundy. pain shot through your leg, the knife buried deep in the muscle. with an easy press to your earpiece, and a murmured “it’s done” you disconnected it and took a deep breath. you had had enough of people barking demands in your ear all night.

suddenly, the doorknob rattled. you raised the gun, limping toward the door. it opened, and a figure entered swiftly.

before they could react, you had them pressed against the wall, the gun at their temple, your arm pressing against their throat as blood dripped to the floor.

“jesus. i check to see if you’re alive and i get jumped!?” they rasped, hands scrambling to pull at your arm.

you stepped back immediately, recognition hitting you like a slap to the face.

“mark?”

his laughter filled the room as you pulled him into a hug.

“holy shit, mark. you scared the shit out of me. i thought i was about to get found out.”

his arms wrapped around your waist and squeezed you against him. you winced at the pressure it put on your thigh. mark pushed you back immediately, dropping to his knees and pulling your dress to the side from the slit in the long fabric.

“my god, you have an entire fucking knife in your leg! and you were still trying to put a bullet in my head?”

you had to say, the sight of him between your legs like that might have been doing something to your body, especially when his stern gaze met yours, making you inhale a sharp gasp. something in you tightened.

a disbelieved laugh echoed through the silent room. “no way you’re turned on right now. there’s a dead guy less than 2 feet from us and there’s a dagger sticking out of you. absolutely nothing is happening until you aren’t actively bleeding on the floor.”

you grumbled as he stood and lifted you into his arms easily, stepping over the corpse as he carried you further into the room, to the bed.

“y’know,” you said with a smirk, “you just said nothing’s happening, and now you’re carrying me to the bed. mixed signals, mark.”

he rolled his eyes as he gently laid you onto the plush sheets of a hotel bed too luxurious to be familiar with the stain of red seeping into it. 

the moment you opened your mouth to continue your teasing, mark decided to tug the dagger out of your leg, eliciting a loud groan of pain. somehow he had found a first aid kit. how, you’re not sure, but mark always had a trick or two up his sleeve. obviously, being in this field had caused both of you to pick up some life-saving medical tricks. his hands moved with practiced efficiency, stitching and wrapping the wound with care.

“all done,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to the bandages.

your fingers tangled in his hair as fire lit in your eyes.

“you sure nothing’s happening?” you murmured, voice low and teasing.

mark sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “you’re impossible.”

“you’re already down there… might as well finish what you started.”

you didn’t miss the way mark’s eyes fell to the thin piece of fabric separating himself from your core. when he met your eyes again, there was heat in his gaze. a subtle nod from you, and he was sliding your underwear down your legs, throwing the garment somewhere onto the hotel floor. 

he dove into you with an eagerness you were not prepared for, grip on his hair tightening as a whine slid out from between your lips. his tongue moved expertly, pressing every button he could to work you up. his arms adjusted to wrap around your thighs (careful to avoid pressing on your wound), effectively pinning you down. all of your squirming and hair pulling was futile as mark dove deeper and held you tight against his mouth.

your whimpers were increasing in frequency, hands tugging hard on his hair as you desperately tried to pull him away from his place between your thighs.

“mark— mark, wait.” you gasped. “mark— need you… inside. please”

just when your orgasm was about to crash into you, he pulled himself away, adjusting to kiss up and down your thighs instead. your whine, of relief and of annoyance at your denied pleasure, filled the room as he continued to happily mark up your inner thighs, your hands still attempting to pull him upwards and get a move on.

that was one thing about you and mark that was different. he preferred to take his time. he liked to take you apart, piece by piece. cover the touches of your targets with touches of his own. make your body forget that it had ever been defiled by anyone other than mark himself. you, though, were impatient. you hated begging for what you wanted. you preferred to get what you need without much trouble.

something about the way mark forced you to be patient, though, was undeniably attractive. working you up until all you could think about was him, and then giving you an orgasm satisfying enough to last until the next time a mission overlapped. you couldn’t help yourself from craving him 24/7, though, despite the fact that it would never be possible to pursue a relationship given your careers. for now, these spontaneous rendezvous were enough for you. 

with one final tug, after what felt like hours, mark relented and allowed himself to be pulled up your body. your lips finally met for the first time that night, your own taste lingering on his tongue. 

“get inside of me. now.” you pulled him down further to whisper in his ear, delighting in the groan it earned from him.

“condom?” you sighed and reached into your bra, pulling the condom you had stashed there out and handing it to mark. the placement brought another smile of disbelief to his face, shaking his head as he unzipped his dress pants.

you hadn’t really had the time to appreciate it fully, but he looked good in a suit. you let your eyes drag up and down his body, gaze lingering on his now exposed dick as he rolled the condom on smoothly.

“ready?” you snapped your eyes up to his, meeting the smug expression on his face with a roll of your eyes.

“mark, if you don’t get inside of me right now, i might grab that gun and put a bullet in your leg.” his laughter echoed as he busied himself with lining himself up to your entrance.

he slid in smoothly, bottoming out with twin groans escaping both of your mouths. this part was always surprising to you. every time you saw each other again, it felt like he had gotten bigger. pressing deep into every part of you. he barely had to angle himself to hit all of the spots that elicited loud moans from you.

his movements began slow, his kisses traveling down the side of your neck and over the exposed parts of your cleavage. he had always liked leaving marks on you, painting you in shades of purple and red that he scanned your body for even when it had been months since you had last seen him. his kisses turned sharper, teeth infiltrating and pulling on your skin, as he picked up his pace. your hands clawed down his clothed back, one sliding up to wrap into his hair and pull him back up to meet your lips. with the moans you were letting out, and the grin on mark’s face, there wasn’t much actual kissing happening. 

“you look really good covered in blood, by the way.” he gasped out against your lips, reminding you of the blood that had splattered over your entire body when you had shot the man still lying in the hotel room earlier.

stunned laughter sounded from your lips, morphing into a strained moan when one of mark’s hands slid down to press against your clit, the other arm working to hold himself up. 

it didn’t take long for you to get close. his tenderness as he treated your wound worked you up more than you would care to admit, and he worked you halfway to transcending into another dimension when he ate you out.

“mark— mark. i’m,” you subconsciously clenched down on him, hard, pulling a hiss from his lips. “i’m close. please.” 

he doubled his efforts, shifting down so his lips were brushing your ear as he spoke.

“yeah? go ahead. cum for me, pretty.”

the raspiness of his voice, his steady thrusts into you, his fingers abusing your most sensitive spot, all of it worked to push you easily over the edge, whimpering his name as he shuddered with you, flooding the condom with his own release. 

you panted against each other for a who knows how long, until mark pulled out and tied off the condom, throwing it into the trash can placed in the corner of the room. he pulled you up, ignoring your whines and complaints as he dragged you into the bathroom to wash up.

after a quick shower together, in which you got on your knees to repay the favor from earlier and mark thanked you by burying his fingers inside of you until your legs were so shaky he had to carry you out of the tub, you worked together to scrub at your bloodstained dress. you shot a message to your agency’s cleanup crew, providing them with a room number as you blow dried the expensive fabric of your dress. thankfully, most of the more noticeable splatters had been mostly washed out. the worst of it was on the torso.

mark handed you his jacket to wear over the dress, effectively hiding the evidence of your kill. you tried to be discreet when you inhaled his scent surrounding you, but you still heard mark bark out a laugh, shutting down any thoughts that you had succeeded at that.

this part was always the hardest. leaving the hotel room hand in hand, still bantering as you made your way to the lobby, where the party had mostly vacated by now. making excuses to stay together. 

“i’ll treat you to a quick dinner” led to “let’s just have a quick smoke break” which ultimately faded into “i’ll call you a ride. let me wait with you so i know you make it safely.”

getting into the car was difficult, mark leaving you with lingering kisses and promises gently whispered into your ear. 

it wasn’t until you made it home that you noticed it. casually reaching into your (mark’s) pocket, instinctively looking for your phone there (which was still sitting safely in your purse), you found a small slip of paper. a smile spread across your face as you took in the contents.

0802 127th street

if you ever get sick of rushed one-night stands, find me here :)

— mark

© susicheng .. please do not copy, reupload, or translate my work

mel yaps: this is my REAL 200 (now almost 300) follower special!! hope u all enjoy hehe.. fraktsiya mark has been clouding my brain for far too long i had to get it out of my system.

#: @f6llsun @i03jae @jeonghansshitester @holyhaech @chenlezip @mi1kteaa

[archermind]

I Can See You

Spencer Reid x F!Reader - Smut (18+)

Description: “and we kept everything professional but something changed, it's something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it's best if we move fast and keep quiet.”. You and Spencer are each other's dirty little secret, no one in the BAU knows what is going on between you both.

Word count: 1,800 approx.

Content Warning: Mentions of f!masturbation, kissing, PinV, Receiving Oral F, swearing, Fingering, dom!spencer, good girl, dirty talk

author note: okay.. so i tried writing a smut. idk how i feel about it. i read smut and think the things people write are really good but when i write it i always think it’s so bad. i hope it isn’t too bad. feel free to give me feedback! hope you enjoy <3

Stolen glances and longing stares, that was how this all started. You and Spencer found yourselves sneaking between each other's hotel rooms while on cases, searching for comfort in a form of lust. The first time was supposed to be a one time thing… never to happen again. Yet, you couldn’t help yourself… you longed for his touch and he longed for yours. Your mind is forever replaying the first moment he made, the way he-

“Earth to Y/N!” Derek announced, waving his hands in front of my face.

“Oh, sorry” you mumbled, realizing your zoning out and complete oblivious state to the world around you.

“What has gotten into you girl” Derek scoffed

“More like who!” emily remarked, causing JJ to snicker “we have seen that extra pep in your step lately Y/N”

You shifted in your seat becoming anxious that people were going to crack onto what was going on between you and Reid. Everyday you were nervous to even look in Reid’s direction… It didn't help that everyone that surrounded you both were some of the best profilers you know. You rolled your eyes putting on a confident facade and prepared your fighting argument against Emily’s wrong, but so right, speculation. 

“Right everyone let’s just focus on the case” Hotch ordered, “Agent Y/N’s love life will just have to remain a mystery for you all until you solve this one”

“Oh c'mon Hotch, you are supposed to be on my side!” you called out desperately as everyone laughed, “i am reporting you all to HR for bullying on the job!”

“Boohoo babygirl!” Morgan said, pouting.

Throughout the rest of the flight you all spoke about the case, trying to build a profile upon the characteristics of the murder. Words like sadist and sociopath were thrown around while you yet again zoned out, this time focused on Reid and his soft snores. You had woken up, naked, to the sound of his snores a couple times now. Each time was just as good as the last. You found yourself counting down the time until you landed, wishing the minutes would go by fast. 

-

Landing came by painfully and slowly. Some time before the flight landed, Spencer had woken up. He seemed shifty and irritated. Not to mention, he could not take his eyes off of you. You felt yourself become more and more needy for him with every passing second. Clock watching made it worse. 

By the time you all arrived at the hotel that you were staying at, it was midnight. Everyone had no energy. The goodbyes and goodnights were a mix of mumbles and grumbles. Your room was right down the hall from Spencer. Emily and JJ across the hall, Morgan next door to Reid, and Hotch was one floor above us all. A dim pale yellow light tried to light the room as you walked through to the bathroom, a hot soak was well needed. Today had seemed to be so long and exhausting.

As you plunged yourself into the bubbles and warmth, you leant back allowing yourself to relax in the tub. Soap suds covered your body as you massaged your aching muscles. You moaned at the release you felt, free from tension that ached your body. As you were massaging your sore body, you felt your mind racing back to Dr. Spencer Reid and your hand inching further to the place you wanted him right now. As your hand grazed your core, you heard a ping to your phone. 

You sighed as the moment had been rudely interrupted and ruined. You grabbed your robe, exiting the tub and putting it over your body. Grasping your phone, your stomach fluttered. ‘Spence’. ‘I need you Y/N’. you bit back a smirk, knowing what was about to happen. ‘Don’t let them see you..’ you responded back. 

Quickly, you ran to the door ready to let the man you wanted most into your hotel room. It was scandalous and thrilling sneaking around with him. It was what you both needed while dealing with stressful cases. A source of release.. Mentally and physically. 

As you opened the door, the slender built boy slipped past quickly into the room to avoid being seen and perhaps questioned as to why he was entering his co-workers' hotel room at 1am. You closed the door silently and instantly you were pressed against it. Spencer’s lips fit yours perfectly. You felt his wet tongue swipe along your bottom lip, begging for entrance. It was heated and vulgar. The desperation for each other was filthy. Your tongues played war with each other until like always Spencer won dominance. You were like a putty in his hands, allowing him to take control of your every movement. 

“You don't understand how beautiful you looked all day” spencer rambled, “i've been wanting to get you alone and worship your body since i first laid eyes on you this morning” 

You moaned at his sweet nothings, moving your lips to trail down his neck as your hands played with the buttons on his shirt. You were eager to rid him of his clothes, eager for him. As your hand went down each button, you slowly freed him out of his shirt. You gasped, running your hands along his chest and to his lower abdomen. 

“I have missed you spence” you stated, breathlessly. 

He slowly walked you backwards towards the bed, peppering kisses around your face. You giggled at the childish move but felt adored. Slowly, he lowered you to lie on the bed and hooked his arms around your legs giving you a strong tug to the edge of the bed. 

“Trust me, Y/N not as much as i missed you doll” he smirked, undoing the tie on your robe. 

Your chest rose and fell fast. You lay there in front of him naked and for the taking. Allowing him to see the most vulnerable and insecure side of yourself. He slowly lowered himself allowing his mouth to come in contact with your soft skin. Spencer kissed and nipped with his teeth, your most sensitive areas. Your neck. Your collarbone. Your breasts. You couldn't help but let the moans fall from your lips. He chuckled at your reaction, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted.

Spencer caressed your left breast pinching your nipple. all while he licked, sucked and bit the right one. You felt wetness pool at your core. All. For. Him. slowly, you felt his nose brush down your abdomen as the pit of your stomach flipped. No matter how many late nights you spent together and how much you prepared yourself, you still got nervous when giving yourself to spencer. Even if he was cautious and gentle.

You squirmed and wriggled as you felt his hot breath on your clit. You were dripping with anticipation at this point. Spencer began to kiss each thigh, slowly working his way closer to the place you wanted him most. Soon enough, Spencer pressed his lips against your clit licking and biting. Slowly, he circled his tongue against your clit as you became more and more sensitive with each lap. Your hand tangled in his brown curls, causing him to moan in response. You cried out in pleasure as he inserted two fingers into you and began pumping in and out of your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck spencer” you breathed out.

“Does that feel good Y/N?” he questioned you, already knowing the answer from the way you were a mess below him. 

“Mhm” you mumbled. 

Spencer pulled away from your clit and took his fingers out from with you, gripping your thighs and turning you on your stomach. You heard his zipper become undone. You looked back and bit your bottom lip suppressing a moan as you saw him in nothing but his underwear. You could see his hard bulge and it made you even more desperate for him.

“Look at you so needy!” Spencer whispered, grabbing a condom from his jean pocket. 

You eyed him up and down as his teeth ripped the small packet open. 

“Hurry… im so fucking desperate” you were a wreck as you tried to speak your wants, “i do need you spencer” 

“Good girls wait” he remarked

You watched him slowly slide the rubber on his hard length, he held a strong eye contact with yours. Enjoying the way you watched him, eagerly waiting for him. You bit your lip hard trying to suppress your moans - considering your co-workers were just down the hall and above you. You hissed in pleasure and pain when Spencer unexpectedly forced his entire length into you without warning. 

It was raw and animalistic the way you both wanted eachother, needed eachother and fucked eachother. Spencer Reid was a quiet boy. Yet, who you now grew to know and spend time with, you saw him in a much different light. He was a gentle, passionate man who adored and cared for you. Reid didnt just use you for sex… he worshipped your body while he fucked you. 

The room was filled with the sound of your breathless moans and the sound of your skin meeting each other. Spencer was deep inside you and with every stroke he made in and out of you, you grew closer to your release. 

“You feel so fucking good Y/N” spencer moaned as he flipped you onto your back, allowing him to watch your face as he fucked you senseless. 

You tried responding but you were a moaning mess. No words could be formed. You were drunk on Spencer’s cock. With every thrust, your tits bounced, sending Spencer's mind on a spiral. 

“You look so fucking good taking my cock, doll” spencer exclaimed, as his hand connected with your clit rubbing small quick circles. 

You felt your stomach ball as you grew closer to your orgasm. You cried in pleasure as he thrusted deeper and slower, hitting your g-spot each time. 

“I- fuck- please spence” you begged him growing more sensitive to his touch and nearing your finish. 

“I know Y/N” he grunted as he entered in and out of you, feeling closer to his orgasm each time, “cum for me” 

You cried out at your release, digging your nails down Spencer's back for some stability on the edge of your pleasure. Your ears rang out from the overwhelming stimulation, while Spencer rode out to his orgasm. It came quickly as he collapsed tired and breathless onto your chest. Time passed as you two lay tangled within each other's arms, trying to calm down from your high.

“Y/N?” he questioned

“Yea” you huffed out

“I’m glad you joined the Quantico BAU team” he stated letting out a breathy laugh

“Yeah me too” you smirked, “the benefits are pretty good too.”

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

can you write a fic where emily is on her period, annoyed at work, irritated, and really needy but is lowkey embarrassed to ask reader for relief? reader basically then calls her silly and tells em she loves her always and then helps her? and heavy smut takes place

(reader also works at the bau)

thank u!! - and no problem at all if u don’t feel like writing this <3

I got u, anon! ❤️ Hope you enjoy! – illdowhatiwantthanks

Touchy

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, graphic sex, fingering, afab body parts, menstruation, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.7k

Summary: You and Unit Chief Emily have had a secret thing going on for a while, but when she starts lashing out at you and the rest of the team, you suspect something's wrong. Turns out, it's something you are very capable of fixing. 😏

Emily sat hunched over a book that she clearly wasn’t reading, massaging her temples. She’d been touchy this whole trip. Touchy with the rest of the team, with local law enforcement. Thank god JJ was in charge of dealing with the press, or she would have been touchy with them, too. And now she was touchy on the jet.

Usually on the last night of a case, when the end was in sight or when you were headed home in the morning, or even on a night where she was frustrated that they hadn’t made progress, Emily would come to your room. She’d knock softly, in the dead of the night, slip into your room, into your bed, into your very body. And she’d be gone before your alarm went off in the morning.

You’d waited and waited last night for Emily to come to you, watching the minutes go by, then hours. You knew you hadn’t made any plans, nothing concrete. There was never anything concrete when the BAU was out on a case. But, nevertheless, you missed her. You missed the warmth of her body next to you, the way you’d talk and laugh about nothing while she sat in bed, naked, and smoked a cigarette after she’d thoroughly fucked your brains out. You missed the way she’d vent to you about the case or tell you something personal, something she wouldn’t tell anyone else, as you fell asleep together, tangled in some random hotel’s sheets.

You’d been seeing each other for months now and, outside of work, had some semblance of a typical relationship. But at work, you were just an agent and her unit chief. Friendly colleagues, at most. You and Emily were always careful to appear impartial. And you were profilers, so you were pretty good at avoiding tells that your relationship was more than it seemed on the outside. But you were worried about her today. She was angry and irritated and… not herself. You were trying to figure out a way to ask her what was wrong, but you couldn’t figure out how to move seats to be near her without arousing suspicion. Not to mention the fact that Emily would never tell another member of the team that something personal was going on. So she couldn’t tell you. Not here, not on the jet.

You tried not to look too interested when Reid sat down across from Emily, playing with the string on his sachet of green tea. “Are you okay, Emily?”

She made a noncommittal sound of affirmation, then muttered. “Just a headache.”

“You know,” he started, and you could just tell he was prepped for an educational monologue. “Headaches are simultaneously one of the easiest and one of the hardest medical maladies to solve, depending on their cause. There are over 50 reasons why one might have a headache, usually categorized into two overarching categories: primary and second–”

“Reid,” Emily snapped. “I am begging you to shut up unless you want to become one of the 50 causes of a headache.”

Reid shrank into himself, and you immediately felt sorry for him. Sure, he could come off as a know-it-all or annoying, but he was goodhearted and kind and smart and cared about the team. It wasn’t like Emily to belittle him.

When you’d all debarked from the plane and made your way to the parking lot, you waited for the other cars to peel out before approaching Emily’s. You tapped on her window and she rolled it down for you.

“What?” she growled.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked, voice full of concern. “You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” she stated. “God, I wish people would just fucking leave me alone today. And stop asking all these questions.”

You were taken aback, hurt. You weren’t “people.” You were, for all intents and purposes, her girlfriend, everywhere but at work.

“Well, um…” you stuttered, unsure how to proceed or respond. “Do you still want to come over tonight?” She almost always did the night after getting back from a case.

“Y/N,” she groaned, massaging her forehead. “No offense, babe, but what part of ‘I wish people would fucking leave me alone’ did you not get?”

You felt like crying, but you’d be damned if you were going to let Emily see it. “Whatever, Em.” You shook your head. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

You watched Emily zoom out of the parking lot and, once she was gone, you let yourself cry. At least it wasn’t just you she was upset with; clearly she had it out for everyone right now. But still… Emily was usually different with you. She was softer around the edges, kind and thoughtful, a little bit silly. This wasn’t like her at all.

The more you thought about it, the angrier you got. How fucking dare she blow you off like you were no one!? She’d been rude and dismissive and snappy and weird with everyone this whole trip and, dammit, she was not going to get away with being like that to you, too. Either something was wrong with her or something was wrong with the rest of you that had pissed her off. Either way, you were determined to figure it out. So when you sped out of the parking lot, teary and determined, you headed not to your apartment, but to Emily’s.

You knocked angrily on Emily’s door until she threw it open, looking as pissed as you’d ever seen her. “Y/N,” she said, frustration evident. “I told you I didn’t want to see you.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, pushing past her and into the apartment. “Sometimes you don’t get what you want.”

You poured yourself a glass from the open bottle of wine she had on the counter and took a sip. Emily stood across from you, still massaging her temples and looking generally annoyed.

“What, Y/N?” she groaned. “What do you want?”

You set your glass down so aggressively the wine sloshed a bit. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Emily!?” you railed. “You’re being so mean and so… not yourself. Is something going on!?”

She sighed heavily and lowered herself into a chair and, for a moment, you thought she might cry. You surged toward her and tucked her hair behind her ear, holding her face, softly, delicately, in case, as she had all day, she decided to pull away again.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” you said softly, your thumbs lightly tracing the circles under her eyes.

Emily leaned into your touch and you knew she was finally there, finally at a point where she’d stop fighting and let you in.

“I’ve got fucking fibroids…” she mumbled, avoiding your eyes. “And I’m on my period and… they’re always bad, but they just make it so much worse.”

“Em,” you sighed, letting her rest her head on your chest. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“It’s embarrassing…”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Periods aren’t embarrassing, honey. They’re just a part of life. A shitty part.”

When she didn’t answer and kept her head buried in your chest, you started playing with her hair. “What do you need, huh? What’ll make you feel better? Do you have pain meds? You want to take a bath? Lie down for a bit?”

Emily pulled back and looked away, shrinking into herself.

“Hey, don’t start that again,” you scolded, taking her hand.

“Babe, just tell me. What do you need, hmm?”

She mumbled something under her breath, so quiet that you couldn’t catch it.

“What?”

“I need you to touch me,” she whispered, blushing furiously. “But that’s not fair of me to ask.”

You smiled, relieved. This is what Emily had been so frustrated about!? You chuckled and leaned forward to kiss her head, her cheek, then sunk your lips into hers. You felt elated by the way she grasped your shirt, the way she pulled into you.

When you broke apart, she was breathless, her pupils blown, but she still looked so deeply embarrassed, almost ashamed.

“Come on,” you said gently, leading her by the hand toward the bathroom. “And to think this whole time you were just really fucking horny.”

You turned on the shower, made sure it was the right temperature, and started stripping your clothes off.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?!” Emily asked, leaning against the bathroom counter.

You stared at her. “What do you mean what am I doing?”

She gestured at your now nude body, as you folded your clothes into a messy pile.

“I’m getting in the shower,” you explained. “And you’re getting in the shower, and then I’m gonna make you come.”

If possible, Emily’s face reddened even more. “Uh… no,” she protested. “No, no. Did you miss the part where I said I was on my period?”

You gestured toward the steaming shower. “Did you miss the part where we’re in the shower so it doesn’t matter?”

“It does matter,” she argued. “I don’t– I’ve never… It’ll be messy, Y/N. I don’t want you to have to–”

You stared at her, mouth slightly agape. “You’ve never had sex on your period?”

She looked at the ground. “I… I mean, I guess I’ve never been with someone who… wanted to.”

Your heart broke then, just for a moment. For sweet, needy, embarrassed Emily, hugging herself in the corner of the bathroom.

“Well,” you said, approaching her and slipping your hands under her shirt. She gasped as you bent to suck on her neck. “That’s their loss.” You lifted her shirt over her head and unclasped her bra, quickly taking one of her nipples in your mouth. She moaned and sank her fingers into your hair. “I can assure you that I…” And you planted a kiss on her chest. “Very much…” You gently unzipped her pants and placed a kiss there, just below her stomach. “Want to.”

Emily pulled you back up and kissed you hungrily, desperately, as she kicked off the rest of her clothes, pushing you into the shower so she could discreetly remove her tampon. You pressed her up against the cool tile, letting the warm water rush over you both. It’s not that you were normally rough with Emily or vice versa, but you were careful to be particularly gentle with her tonight, knowing that her body was sensitive and in pain.

You kissed Emily slowly, deeply, making your way down her neck, across her chest, tracing slow, indulgent circles around her nipples as she let her head rest back against the tile. You could feel her heart beating underneath your tongue and it drove you wild.

When you crouched to move lower, holding yourself steady against her thighs, she pulled you back up, eyes pleading with you. “Just your hands. Please.”

You brushed a wet strand of hair off her forehead. “Are you sure?” You smirked. “I really don’t mind getting messy.”

“I know,” she replied, still breathing heavily as your thumbs drew circles against her hips. “But I mind.”

“Whatever you want, honey,” you breathed into her ear as you ran your fingers through her warm folds.

Emily shuddered and pressed her head into your shoulder, bucking involuntarily into your hand. You let your thumb idle around her clit, slow and rhythmic and gentle, until you had her panting and whining against you.

“More,” she begged, and you happily obliged, softly pressing two fingers into her pulsing entrance. You picked up speed as she pressed into you, her breath high and hitched, with small noises of effort and pleasure echoing around the shower.

“Wait, stop,” she gasped, even as she thrust into you. You stilled your movements, and waited for her to tell you what she wanted. “I feel like I might collapse,” she gasped.

“In a good way or a bad way?” you asked, both of you giggling.

“A good way, but…”

“Here,” you said, moving her arms so they were wrapped around your neck and inching forward so that your thigh was between her legs. You wrapped your free hand around her waist and planted a kiss on her neck. “I’ve got you, okay? I’m not gonna let you fall. Just let go, baby.”

Emily didn’t need any more encouragement, riding your fingers as if her very life depended on it. And when she finally reached her peak, when she finally let herself fall apart, nothing in the world could have made you let go of her. You held her up as she shook, her walls pulsing around your fingers, her mouth wide and warm against your shoulder.

“There you go,” you whispered, bringing her back down and planting fluttery kisses wherever you could reach as you held her steady. She shook against you, holding onto you, and when she finally found her way back to her feet, you kissed her again and again, all over.

“Feel better?” you asked her, cupping her face in your hands. She nodded and wrapped her arms around your neck in an embrace and, for a while, you just held her there, hot water pouring over you, heartbeats dwindling back to a normal rate.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice vibrating against your skin. She stood and looked at you apologetically. “Sorry I was such a bitch.”

You shook your head and kissed her again. “It’s okay. Everyone’s a bitch on their period.”

Your heart was in your throat as Emily let you wash her, let you lather shampoo into her hair and rub soap gently across her body, making sure she was clean and cared for. She was so soft under your touch, so soft and pliable, such a contrast to how she was at work with everyone else. She always acted so tough. And she was tough, but she could also be so soft. You loved that she was soft for you.

You dried her off, you kissed her shoulder, you told her to go ahead and get in bed, that’d you’d be right there. And when you returned and found her in bed with wet hair in an oversized t-shirt, you were struck by the realization that you never really wanted to go to bed with anyone else. That what you’d really like is to be in bed with Emily every night. Not just random nights on the road. Not just after the dates you spent at places you chose because it didn’t seem like any other member of your team would be there. You loved her. You were falling in love with her.

You handed her the glass of water you’d prepared in the kitchen, and thought about how not to accidentally tell her you loved her. She sipped gingerly at the edge of the bed and looked deeply at you.

“What?” you asked, shrinking under her gaze.

“Do you want to stay here?” she asked.

“Duh,” you replied, already climbing into bed next to her. “I always spend the night after. And we don’t have work tomorrow.”

“No, I mean…” She picked at her fingernails, avoiding your eyes. “Do you want to stay here… for good. Like, would you want to move in?”

You felt like the breath had been knocked out of you. “Are you serious?” you asked, gaping at her.

Emily shook her head. “Forget it. Sorry. It was a stupid question.”

“No, no!” You grabbed her hand and held it between both of hers. “I just… I didn’t know what this was for you. If you wanted to… keep it casual, I guess.”

She sighed and looked into your eyes and you knew then, you knew that whenever it slipped out, whenever you were ready to say it, she would say it back. “I haven’t been casual about you for a while now, Y/N.”

And you kissed her. You kissed her again and again, kissed her until she was giggling and squirming, until you had her wrapped in your arms under the covers.

And when she reached to turn the light out, when she curled into your body, you let your words venture out in the darkness, soft and quiet, almost imperceptible: “I love you.”

And like a light, her voice, vibrating against your skin as she fell asleep in your arms: “I love you, too.”

[itsharleystuff]

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ 𝐌Í𝐀 ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Javier Peña x afab!fem reader (implied hispanic/latina)

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.3k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After a major fight between the two of you, a month goes by in which you give each other the silent treatment, figuring out if you should start seeing different people. However, Javier has a problem: he can’t get his dick hard for anyone that isn’t you. So, when he sees how easily you can move on from him, he gets awfully jealous.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, possessive/jealous behavior, unprotected sex, p in v, cuffs, slight dirty talk, semi-public sex, use of ‘slut’, pet names (sweetheart, corazón, cariño, hermosa, etc.), praise kink, come eating, oral sex (f! & m! receiving), mentions of drugs, smoking, a bit of angst, very little plot (mostly filth), weirdly structured plot. I think that’s it.

— a/n: there’s some phrases and words in Spanish, some are translated and some aren’t. Let me know if translations are needed :)

No use of y/n.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Javier Peña has never been a jealous man.

It's simply never been in his nature, not even when he was a child playing around with toys that he loved to share. And nowadays? Well, he had other stuff in mind that didn't leave any room for those pedestrian feelings.

As of now, he -supposedly- didn't have anything to be worried about. Specially not women.

Everyone knew he fucked hookers so good that they'd spill all their secrets in his ear, and that he was attractive enough to leave a bar with company just after a couple of minutes from arriving there. But to anyone observant, it was obvious how bad he had it for you.

Still, that didn't stop him from being an asshole.

You remember the last time you two spoke and how it turned out to be a fucking disaster: basically, he didn't like the idea of exclusivity because it involved feelings that he wasn't ready to admit, so you had called him a slut (along with many other insults) and he'd said that you were childish and sensitive. So naturally, everything went downhill after that fight.

Currently, things were pretty tense with Javier, even at work. But things just got worse when the Colombian police sent you onto an undercover mission, nothing really extravagant but still quite dangerous. And apparently, the DEA knew nothing about it.

The task was rather simple: you'd go to one of Medellin's busiest nightclubs and find out if there was a cocaine distribution line working there. The problem was what the agent had overheard from Carrillo. Not only did he knew now that you were at the place, but he also had word that one of the cartel's most wanted sicarios was about to be there too. And knowing the Coronel as well as he did, you were right in the middle of a crossfire. He arrived at the club earlier than any of them, hoping to find you quickly and draw you out before the asset came in.

But, oh hell.

What he saw the minute he stepped in almost made him lose his shit.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

You had no business being in there this late. You'd already passed down all the information needed to your boss and now you were just waiting for the cartel's member to arrive so you could call Carrillo and let him finish the job.

But in the meantime, you decided to at least try and have some fun. After everything that went on with Peña, you felt like you deserved a distraction.

The music was loud, reggaetón reverberating in your body as you danced, eyes wide awake in case the target decided to show up. The stranger you were dancing with had his hands all over your body, holding you close to him while you moved in synch. He was handsome in a boyish way, and a bit clumsy, but good enough to take your mind off from the irritating DEA agent. At least for now.

To be honest, you didn't lack any attention at the moment. Both men and women would come up to you, hoping to get a piece of what you had to offer. It came without saying that everything about you tonight resulted appealing to the kind of people that frequented the place, being an undercover assignment you did your best to blend in. And it seemed to work out wonderfully. The flashy makeup and short dress that only accentuated your figure made you stand out amongst the rest; nevertheless, what really attracted everyone's gaze wasn't any of that, but the confidence with which you'd walk around the place like you owned it.

"¿Qué tal si nos vamos pa' un lugar más oscurito, mamacita?" (How about we go to a more private place?) The guy, whose name you didn't even know, proposed. And though the idea sounded nice, your job wasn't quite finished.

"Not yet, papi. Dame un par de canciones más." (Let's dance a bit more). He hummed in response, his hands traveling from your lower back to grab your ass firmly.

"Usted manda." (You call the shots). The answer made you smile cheekily as you lean in to him, hoping to connect his lips with yours.

However, you definitely didn't expect to be abruptly pulled back with force instead, ripping you apart from the man's hold.

"What the hell..." you start to complain and twist in the strangers grasp, who started to drag you out the dance floor and keeping your wrists behind your back.

"Hombre, ¿pero qué diablo' le pasa?" (What's wrong with you, man?). Asked your poor companion, glancing over at the guy that took you away from him.

But you knew exactly who he was even before he spoke. You'd recognize that musky cologne anywhere, mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke. Damn, even your body recognized him so well that the way his fingertips dig on your skin flooded your mind with memories from the past.

"Peña." You mutter through gritted teeth, not bothering to turn your head towards him.

"It's agent Peña to you, sweetheart." He snarls, completely blowing off anyone that would try to get in his way to lug you outside.

A new, fueled up rage crept up your spine while he harshly pulls you to te entrance, right were you see the colonel's target going in.

"Let go of me, mierda!" You struggle against him, not wanting to actually put on a fight but just make him reason. "I have a fucking job to do, so let go of me or..."

"Or what?" Javier spins you around carelessly, leaving your face so close to his that your breaths merged with each other's, chest pressed against your own as he keeps you still, his hands gripping you so hard that it would certainly leave bruises.

"I need to call Carrillo. I'm working, even if you don't believe it." You tell him, letting your racing heartbeat start to settle.

The man's eyes were dark, covered by a shadow of anger that matched his stern expression. He was always handsome, but whenever he'd get mad, Javi was hot. Although it was unusual for you to see him like this, him being always attentive and careful, though still very passionate. He would never explode, not even when the stress and tension became too much to handle. But then, you realize...

"No way..." you scoff, keeping direct eye contact. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

His reaction is immediate, turning your body again and flushing your face against the trunk of his jeep Cherokee, bending you over the car. You gasp audibly, feeling the cold metal under your cheek and his body towering upon you while he holds you down by the back of your neck. Javier's lips brush the top of your ear when he leans down to you.

"The fuck do I need to be jealous about, cariño?" He whispers lowly, his hot breath giving you goosebumps and making your knees tremble. "Eres mía, you've always been."

Ah, fuck.

Despite all the shit that you went through with him, the effect he had on you remained the same. No matter what, the agent was aware of it, conscious of how you'd always melt under his touch, he just knew all your sweet spots by core memory and what'll have you squirming underneath him. Yeah, even if your mind tried it's best to erase Peña, your body would always betray you.

"You lost your chance." You mutter in a bittersweet tone. "Now get the hell off me so I can finish my task."

He doesn't instantly let go, but eventually loosens the grip on your nape. Though right when you thought he'd actually let you free, there's a cold metallic sensation brushing on your wrist and you suddenly can't move your arms from your back. The motherfucker had just cuffed you.

"Malparido, hijo de..." You ramble, straightening your back to glance at him in exasperation.

"Don't move." He growls, opening the driver's door and taking his radio out. The agent starts to talk through it, but you're way too outraged as to pay any attention, your vision going red when you catch your name, the words 'Carrillo', 'sicario' and the place were you're at, figuring out that he's doing the part of the job that corresponded to you.

"You're sick, Peña." There's no reply to the snarky comment as he simply shoves you in the back of his truck, rather carefully, considering the situation.

You watch intently while he gets back on his seat, analyzing every detail about him. It wasn't anything special, you had seen him quite often at work after your fight, and nonetheless, now... Something seemed off.

Javier was wearing a red button shirt under his black leather jacket, from which he drew out a pack of cigs and a lighter. He appeared the same, however, you could sense the tension on his shoulders and back, the kind you'd help him deal with before, and it almost felt like he was holding back from doing something. Heck, you hated it. You completely despised arguing with him, being apart from the man almost made you physically unwell.

But that was the root of this whole problem. You were able to admit it; how much you liked him and didn't want anyone else. Him on the other hand, wasn't ready for all that. Although, despite him implying that he couldn't fully commit or correspond to your feelings... Right now, his actions were very contradicting.

Because Javier Peña never got jealous.

And yet, there he was.

Perhaps, if you spurred him on just enough and cornered him in a trap... Perhaps then, he'd be able to admit it. 

"So what now, agent?" You wonder, laying your back flat on the leather sit, feeling the coldness of the material on your exposed skin and trying to find a comfortable position. "You mind explaining yourself?"

He looks at you through the rear-view mirror, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. A challenging fire shines in your eyes when you lock glances with him. But he doesn't say anything, simply starting the car and getting the windows down before lighting up a cigarette.

"What about you, sweetheart?" He asks, the fag hanging from between his lips as he starts driving away from the club. "Care for elaborating on your actions?"

You snort, gaze diverting towards the window. "I was just killing time."

The streets of Medellin were loud and busy, specially on the weekends. But at the moment, the paths were dark and quiet, as if everyone knew that there was a storm coming and they had to stay out of the hood.

"So that's your idea of 'killing time'?" He comes again, tapping the cigar out his window to leave the ashes behind. "Letting random men grope you in those wrenched bars?" You grin, still defying him with your attitude. "And yet, I'm the slut..."

"You must certainly are, Peña." You reply condescendingly, watching the road. "When I was with you, that was it. No one else even crossed my mind. But then, you? How many other women did you have besides me?"

He grunts, taking a long drag without looking back in your direction. You recognize certain spots and locals, but none of them were anywhere close to your apartment. Instead of asking were he was taking you to, the idea you previously had lingers on your mind.

Red light.

"You know, ever since we... Well, ghosted each other. I've actually had tons of fun." His eyes darkened, but no matter all the warning signs he was sending with his body, you just couldn't hold back anymore, starting to play a game that might get out of control. "Actually, you know that guy working with the CIA? Balcázar?"

Javier looked so gorgeous while driving. His big hands over the lever and muscles flexing whenever he'd make sudden moves. Even now, tense as an arrow an white-knuckling the wheel at your words, he was the hottest man you'd seen.

"Shit, he’s good..." you purr, slightly arching your back so he'll get a better view of your breasts, barely contained in that tiny dress you were wearing. "I really miss him. Hated it when he went back to New York."

His stormy glare was on you, watching closely every single move you made. Your legs were briefly parted, just enough for him to peek a sight of your laced underwear. The agent's breathing became ragged and he had to try his best to stay concentrated.

"Careful, cariño." You hear him rasp out with a hint of danger. "You really don't want to go there."

Green light.

He puts the cigarette out and throws the tail away carelessly.

"Ay, Peña." Your voice goes an octave lower, licking your lips. "Don't act like you haven't been to every brothel in the city trying to fill in my spot."

The man huffs a laugh, shaking his head in disapproval. "I know what you're doing." You look at him through your lashes, faking innocence and confusion. "But if you really want me to say it, there hasn't been anyone else."

"Yeah, right..." That mocking tone was really getting on his nerves.

"Not even when we were together." Javi sulks out.

"Then why was it so difficult for you to be serious with me?" You question grimly. "Do you not like me?"

His eyes bore back into yours somberly, as if you'd just said the stupidest thing in the world despite the graveness in your voice and expression, lazily scanning you head to toe.

"Like you?" It sounded like he was struggling not to come off sardonic, cocking an eyebrow at you. "I can't believe you just asked me that."

You lean in towards him when he takes an unexpected turn, inhaling his particular scent mixed with the leather and smoke. Suddenly, he parks the car someplace dark and empty that resembled an abandoned gas station. Kind of creepy, but you recognized the area now. It was a neighborhood located a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

"Why?" You coo, taunting, patiently testing how much he'd spill. But Javier won't meet your glance, focused on the nothingness ahead of him.

"Because I can't even get my dick hard for any other women, for fucks sake!" He howls, rubbing his face with his palm, clearly pissed.

At first, you thought he must've been joking. But the way he said it came out so frustrated that it made it hard to believe he was lying. His bold statement gave you a rush of power, knowing that you had him in mind and body, the man that made every woman he acquainted feel like a schoolgirl crushing on a senior. You understood why he was so mad right now; it wasn't only cause he was jealous, but because he hated seeing that you could easily move on to the next man while he remained stuck.

Though it was a lie. You only responded to him and you wanted to prove him that. But Javier had to acknowledge the mistake he made.

"Perhaps you're just old." You teased, "Have you tried pills for that?"

His reaction was so unexpected that you had barely any time to process the circumstances. He got out the car and opened the passenger's seat, tugging at your arm to get you out the jeep apprehensively.

"Take a guess, sweetheart." He grits next to your ear, his chest pressed to your back.

"Fucking hell..." you mewl at the feeling of Javier's hard boner firm against your ass. His hands hold your waist for a second before manhandling you to the edge of the back passenger's seat, hunching down in front of you with both hands gently gripping the exposed flesh of your thighs and looking up at you with fiery eyes.

"If you want me to say it, fine." He bites, giving up. "I made a mistake. It was stupid." Then his tone denotes the way he's struggling to contain anger. "I can't bear it. Seeing you with other men... It drives me insane. I can't even think straight- shit, I almost blew a whole ass operation tonight just because I saw you dancing with that guy." You gulp, remembering how furious he was just a few moments ago. "But let's not fool ourselves, cariño. We both know you haven't slept with anyone else either."

How he figured that out was a mystery to you. Maybe he truly was a very good agent.

There isn't a retort in your behalf. What could you possibly say anyway? He had you figured out already, he always did.

Back in the day, when you first started working with him, Javier acted like a complete shithead. Him an Murphy would give you a hard time with the DEA, always getting in trouble, messing up your schedules and bribing confidential information out of you. That's how you grew closer to him. Peña used to invite you for dinner or beers as an apology, granted that he always looked forward to take you back to his apartment, of course. Except you had heard the rumors regarding his reputation, and that was a well in which you weren't particularly eager to fall in, specially since he was a coworker.

Yet, it was all in vain. How could you ever say no to him if he'd look at you with those sparkly, deep brown eyes that resembled a lost puppy? You fell for Javi's smug smirk, the groovy hair, plus that confident and bite-back attitude of his, knowing how it would eventually end. Even so, no one could really blame you. He acted different around you, people were able to tell, brighter, more open and honest.

"See, I'm sorry about what I said..." you start, but he cuts you off.

"Don't be. I deserved that shit." The man stands up, taking a bunch of keys from the pocket of his jeans and going to take off the cuffs. "You should feel sorry for all those poor guys you toyed with while thinking about me the whole time."

You stretch your arms and massage your wrists, unwilling to meet his intense gaze, conscious that you'd fall for his charm immediately. He worked smarter, grabbing your chin to raise your face towards him.

"Did you enjoy it?" He hissed, fingertips digging on your jaw with moderate force. "Having other men grab your ass while everyone watches? Teasing the hell out of me in the office with those obscenely tight skirts and talking to Murphy as if I wasn't right beside him?" Your tongue darts out to lick your lower lip, not breaking eye contact. "Answer me, corazón."

"Yes," you respond cockily, "I enjoyed it." His face swiftly sobered, a muscle feathering in his jaw. "But I didn't think it had any effect on you, so it felt like a waste of time and effort."

Javier laughs huskily, bending forward. You close your eyes, thinking he's going in for a kiss, but instead his lips go to rest on your jawline, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck and all the way down to the valley of your breasts. As of now, you're a panting mess, already turned on by his adamant behavior. The fact that you were finally getting to feel him like this after a month or so of completely ignoring each other... It felt divine.

Your tug at his shoulder as he keeps nibbling the sensitive skin. The agent knew your body better than anyone else ever could, he'd memorized all the spots that would have you moaning and squirming underneath him, which was the case just now.

"Javi..." you sigh, running your hand through his hair.

"You're such a fucking brat." He reflects, kneeling between your parted legs. "A month ago I was merely a ghost to you, a few minutes prior I was simply 'Peña'. But when my lips are on you I'm suddenly 'Javi'?" He boasts with a devilish grin. "How convenient..."

"Mmm..." he laughs gruffly at your loss of words, his fingers hooking your underwear beneath the dress and slowly pulling it down.

At this point you're so wet it's embarrassing. It was probably due to the lack of sex you've had recently, or perhaps you were really growing fond of this new phase of his and the idea of Javier being possessive over you.

"Don't you dare look away." He warns roughly, peeling the fabric off you with a tad of your help. "Keep your eyes on me. I'll only tell you this once."

You nod eagerly. "Javi, are we- are we going to do it here?" It wouldn't be a new thing, you've done similar stuff in the past, though never in such an open space, despite appearing deserted. "Your place is barely a few blocks away..." His lips graze the soft skin of your upper leg, the feeling of his mustache raising goosebumps on your body.

"Can't wait." He stated, voice tinted with lust whilst his palm caresses your calf. "Need you now."

Somehow that made the pit of your stomach feel warmer. The rush of excitement coming from that desire he had for you had gave a thrill of control, completely ignoring how he was the one in charge of this situation. Javier carefully slips your dress upwards, taking in every single reaction you had to his touch and cursing at the sight of your throbbing pussy. The heat of his breath against your exposed core only increased your arousal, seemingly encouraging him.

"Shit, this cunt really did miss me, huh?" You nod again, basking in the contact of his nose brushing your clit, sending shivers down your spine.

In spite of your low whimpers of need, he deliberately denied you of his touch were you most needed him, simply roaming his lips and fingers over your inner thighs and pubic bone. Desperate, you scratch his scalp softly, pulling a groan from him.

"Javi, please..." he was definitely going to make you beg for it, regardless of how much he wanted it too. 

"Did you let anyone else do this to you?"

"No." You breathe out.

"Good." His thumb suddenly falls on your clit, rubbing slow circles. You squeal from the spontaneousness of the action, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. "This is mine." Then he slides down his finger to slightly part your swollen lips, coating it with your slick. "All mine."

"Sí, Javi."

"That's right, corazón." He murmurs, slipping two digits into you. "I'm going to fuck you so good that you won't ever think about anyone else." He sets a pace pretty quickly, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them to hit all the right spots. "I'm the only man for you. Understand that?"

"Yes, shit-" you choke down a moan when he mildly pinches your nub. "You are."

He makes a satisfied noise before diving in your pussy, starting to lick and kiss your clit without pulling out his fingers, maintaining a relentless pace and rejoicing himself in the sounds he'd pull from you.

"Fuck, that's good..." you manage to say, knowing how he likes the praise, your hand messing up his hair.

Javier pulls away for a second, grabbing your thighs to part them further and place your legs over his shoulders eagerly, hungrily looking up at you. You arch your back, ever so responsive to him while struggling to maintain a hold of yourself.

"So pretty." He whispers, admiring how your chest goes up and down from your rag breathing, your face contorted by pleasure as his fingers disappear in your cunt, the squelching sounds of your pussy and the moans spilling from your lips making him painfully hard. "Toda mía."

Your legs were already shaking, your body being so sensitive and needy. Specially for him. Always for him. But it wasn't enough and you both knew that. Though before you can beg him for more, his mouth takes place were his digits used to be, eating you out as if you were his favorite meal, lapping you up kind of selfishly, almost like he did it for his own pleasure.

"Javi, that's-" you can't even form coherent sentences without being interrupted by your cries of pleasure. "Too fucking good."

His tongue is hot and soft between your folds, licking up your slit as he rubs tight circles on your clit, fucking you greedily and moaning graciously against your slickness. Also, the image of him between your legs was always a sight to see, adding to the pool of arousal. You start seeing white spots and the knot in your lower stomach starts to loosen as the orgasm approaches, gripping the leather seat as if your life depended on it. It's a good thing that he's holding you, cause in a matter of seconds your whole body starts to tremble and his name leaves your lips repeatedly.

"I can't- shit!" You pull his hair involuntarily and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your core and pushing you to the edge. "I'm gonna..."

You can't even finish speaking before you're coming undone in his mouth, feeling the hot waves of satisfaction wash over you. He doesn't pull away until you're practically whining from the overstimulation, trying to regain composure as he licks you clean. When he does, his eyes peer at you, intoxicated with desire as he starts to stand on his feet, towering over you.

"I missed that sweet taste of yours." He licks his glistening lips and you wish he'd finally kiss you. "Can't get enough of it."

Your hands reach his belt, trying to unbuckle it, but he takes your wrists to stop you.

"What's wrong?" You question, genuinely confused.

"I'm taking you to my apartment. I'm doing this properly." He retorts. However, you're too turned on now to care about the place.

"Please Javi, let me do something for you." One thing that made him go stupidly insane for you was the way you were never coy when asking for his cock, looking up at him with pleading eyes. As if having him on your throat gratified you. "I need you."

He almost caved in. Almost.

"Stop that or I'll cuff you again." He grumbles, only making you smile.

"Do it. I don't need hands, I can always take you in my mou-" Javier flips your body abruptly, pressing your face against the seat, and you can hear the familiar sound of metal clipping in.

"Such a greedy slut." He fixes your dress, not without subtly smacking your ass beforehand.

"Mm, can I at least get my panties back?" You ask in defeat, turning to face him, but he was already shutting the door.

"No." He quickly starts the car as you settle on the back, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed and lips plump from biting them, eyes still sparkling from the high post-orgasm.

"Do you like me like this?" You wonder as he begins driving. "All fucked out, cuffed and ready for you to take?"

Peña doesn't answer immediately, not daring to look back at you but desperately wanting to do it.

"I do." He answers, eyes on the road. "I like you naked. And dressed too, specially with those pretty skirts. I like it when you tell me how your day was, or when you're reading quietly." His words make your heart flutter, blushing harder. "I like listening to your voice, and the way your gaze always seems interested whenever I talk about me. Shit, I even like you when you're ignoring me." You can almost hear his smile, if that made any sense. "I like you all the damn time, hermosa."

Honestly, you weren't expecting such a straightforward answer, finding yourself at loss of words. Nonetheless, you didn't need to say anything, cause sooner than expected you were being taken out of the truck, flashes of the building he resided in passed right in front of your eyes while he dragged you through the dark, silent halls.

"Javi..." despite having limited mobility, you lean towards him, whispering in his ear. "Please kiss me."

He laughs dryly at your plea and struggles to open the door. "You want that, huh? ¿Quieres que te bese?" Then he takes your arm to drag you in, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, mi amor. I missed you so fucking much." You stay close to him, your face nuzzled on the crook of his neck. His hand brushes the hair out of your face and he presses his lips to your temple.

"Hm, is that right?" He hums and you can feel it against your nose. "Didn't seem so."

You back off swiftly, keeping your eyes locked with his. "I'm sorry, Javier. I really am."

Something shifts in his gaze, a possessive, deep emotion takes over him and he decides to take you up on your previous proposition.

"Prove it." He commands, voice hoarse. "Show me how much you missed me." The idea of getting what you wanted pursed your lips in a mischievous smirk. "I'll kiss you afterwards if I'm convinced."

Instead of responding, you start peppering kisses all over his jaw and neck, going as far along his chest as the buttons of his shirt would allow you. He lazily unbuckles his belt and pants while you lower yourself to your knees in front of him, but doesn't bother to go any further. It was going to be difficult, though nothing you haven't done before, nearly forgetting the cuffs as you craved his taste.

You rub the side of your face on his stiff erection, feeling how hard and hot he was under the tight fabric of his jeans and a low groan scratches his throat. You mouth at it before taking the zip between your teeth and sliding it down, eyes peering up at him at the same time. Javier observes every move attentively, his cock twitching at the sight of your lust-drunken gaze, breath starting to become unsteady when you kiss and lick the head of his dick over the thin fabric of his boxers. You taste the precum throughout it, salty and good, before pulling down his underwear by lightly biting the elastic.

Your mouth waters at the view, jaw going slack even before taking him in your mouth. His girth slaps against his clothed belly, tip red and leaking, just as big as you remember. Shit, you really had missed him. Javier's hand tangles in your hair, running his fingers in between the locks lovingly. He gasps when you press your lips to the slit, kitten licking the top and starting to spread wet kisses all over his length, running your tongue along the shaft, his musky scent getting to your head quite fast. He loved how every time you were on your knees for him it felt like you adored him, as much as Javier did you.

And it was true. Knowing how good you made him feel satisfied your senses, every expression and single noise he'd make could turn you on and push you to edge so easily. The man was simply delightful.

“Fuck, sweetheart…” he sighs, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb when you finally suck him in. “That’s it, wrap those gorgeous lips around my cock. So pretty…”

He lets out a gruffly moan as you take him further, watching as he screws his eyes shut and throws his head back, the sound so divine that it immediately makes your pussy clench around nothing. Javier is thick. And it’s always so hard to get him all in your mouth, but this time you make a double effort. You run your tongue against the veins on the underside of his dick, enjoying the weight of it in you, the taste and the admirable sight of him coming undone while he tries his best not to start fucking your face without warning, laying his palms flat on the wall behind you.

“Shit- that’s…” he grumbles, head spinning from pleasure, unable to make up any thought or manifest anything into words. You start bobbing your head up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to provide more warmth.

You’re dripping, feeling the slick run down your thighs and the ache becoming unbearable. You squeeze your legs together in order to release some of that need, letting out a whine that vibrates through him and makes his hips jolt into your mouth.

“Fucking hell…” Javier’s hand snakes to the back of your neck, massaging the soft skin. “Does it turn you on to get me off like this, hermosa?”

You hum in response and the feeling sends him to oblivion, letting out a coarse moan that shocks another wave of hotness between your legs.

“What a nasty girl you are.” He mumbles breathily, “My girl.” He’s practically shaking at this point, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and your nose pressed against his pubic bone.

Air wasn’t a necessity at the moment, your ears ringing and the corners of your eyes watering. He warned you he was close but you didn’t back out, letting him hold you for support. He gasps out a raspy ‘fuck’ when he releases, hips stuttering and back arching slightly as his cum hits your tongue. You pull apart just enough to lap at the tip while he rides it out, feeling him throb in your mouth while you savor him until he’s completely spent, soft moans barely audible.

You wait until he opens his eyes again, brown gaze meeting yours between shaky breaths. “Will you uncuff me now, agent?”

He huffs a laugh, tugging himself back in his jeans before helping you get up and taking the metal cuffs off. For a second, none of you say a thing, simply staring back at each other with a swirl of emotions between you. But then he says your name, merely a whisper that makes you crumble.

“Don’t do that, Peña.” You scold, turning your back to him and walking towards the couch, taking a seat and listening to the leather crack under your weight.

“What do you mean?” He turns to you, hands on his hips, pants unbuttoned and hair messy.

“When you say my name like you need me and give me those puppy-dog eyes, I actually believe that you want me for anything other than sex.” He seems disappointed, mostly on himself. “So can we just fuck and get this over with?”

“Is that what you think I…?” Javier shakes his head and follows your direction, but only observes from above. “It’s not like that.”

You take off the heels, your feet starting to hurt. “Then how is it?”

His hand goes to your chin, urging you to look up at him. “I’m not good with this… I screwed up back in Texas and I did it again with you.” You gulp, your hands tightly gripping your knees. “I don’t know how to handle this sort of things, and it’s been a while since I felt like this for anyone…”

He takes the jacket off and sits on the edge of his coffee table in front of the sofa, cupping your face in his hands.

“All I know is that every time we’re together, nothing else matters. Things feel right. But when you’re not with me… Shit. Life becomes insufrible. I can’t sleep, can’t think, fuck, I can’t even have sex!” He looks genuinely irritated. “Everything’s about you when you’re away. And I can’t tolerate to see you with anyone else. It’s like someone just took a shot at me.”

You inhale sharply, taking his hand in yours without breaking eye contact. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve came back to you.”

“Precisely. I tried not to be selfish and let you go, but I can’t. It hurts too much.” He pouts, as if the mere thought made him sick. “And you deserve better.”

Inevitably, you roll your eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, Peña.” He furrows his brows at your reply, his palm falling from your cheek to his lap. “That’s crap! You think you know what’s best for me?”

“Well shit, I’m sorry for trying to look out for you.” Javier snarls back.

“I don’t need you to do that, you idiot.” You grab his jaw, taking him by surprise. “I know what I want and I was straightforward about it,” His heart starts thumping against his ribs. “So, if you want me, take me. Cause if you don’t… Someone else might.”

Your statement stirs his pot and his expression shifts. “Fuck no. You’re mine and I’m yours. That’s how this is going to work.”

“Yeah?” He lets out a throaty growl and leans down towards you.

“Yeah.” His mustache tickles your upper lip when he crashes his lips to yours and you whine into his mouth.

It was desperate and demanding, ripping all the emotions from you. Javier tasted like cigarettes, a hint of mint and of you. And you tasted like tequila, honey and of him. His cologne was a little faded, but you could still smell it.

“Say you’re mine, corazón.” He mumbles when he pulls back for air, forehead pressed to yours. “I don’t care if you’re lying, I need to hear it.”

You take him by the collar of his shirt so that he’s sitting down next to you, snaking your hand to press the palm against his bare chest.

“Soy tuya, Javi.” You tell him, laying a small kiss to his lips. “I mean it.”

He smiles cheekily as he pulls you on top of him, spreading your knees to each side of his thighs, your dress slipping upwards. Javier tugs a strand of hair behind your ear and his fingers roam your face as if he wanted to memorize every edge of it by tact alone. His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip carefully, parting your lips briefly before going to kiss you again. This time he does it slowly, taking his time with your lips prior to sliding his tongue past your teeth and relishing on your taste, almost like he wanted to lose himself in you.

To him, the world meant nothing if you weren’t by his side. And now that you were here, he intended to make the most of it.

His hands are everywhere: your waist, hips, lower back and butt, grabbing every bit of your flesh that he could, keeping you close. So close that it almost seemed like he wished to merge into you. You made out for what it appeared to be hours, until the kisses got sloppier but never less passionate, and you started grinding against him. You hold his shoulders for support, creating that delicious friction between your naked cunt and his stiff boner tucked in his pants. He jolts his hips up, making you release a whimper in his mouth.

He backed off, his lips now scrape your jawline, neck and collarbones. You arch your back when his hand slithers to pull down the zipper of your dress, granting him a better view of your tits close to his face.

“My room?” He asks, biting your earlobe mildly.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Javi carries you to the bedroom with your legs wrapped around his waist, still finding a way to keep his lips on you in the meantime. Clothes disappear in the blink of an eye and you sit at the end of the sheets to help him take off his pants, kissing his abdomen, your dress now discarded somewhere on the floor.

“Eres preciosa.” The way he says it makes you blush, skin burning under his chocolate gaze. “I’m all yours, mi amor.”

You bring his face close to yours, infatuated with his beauty. “All mine…”

“Yes, corazón.”

You lay down on the mattress, Javier starting to play with your hard nipples, nibbling at them, sucking and kissing with his attention focused on all your reactions. You’re so aroused that you’re quite literally dripping onto his sheets, legs trembling from every light stimulation and skin scorching from desire, already spurred on by the make out and giving him head.

“Please, Javi… I- need you inside.”

He wastes no time to compel, maneuvering a hand to your lower back and aligning himself to your entrance, keeping your legs spread. You feel him inside, splitting you open with no previous warning and the tight grip of your cunt feels like homecoming to him. You hold your breath until he bottoms out, enjoying the sweet stretch he provided. Then your whole body quivers, a sheen layer of sweat covering both his golden skin and yours, a couple of curly locks sticking to his temples from it.

You watch him from below through hooded eyes, every inch of him inside you making you feel so full and complete, the outline of his fingers dig in your waist to keep you angled. You bear down on his cock, enveloping him in the warm, welcoming grasp of your body. He holds your hand above your head and leans down to kiss you again, drowning his own moans in your mouth as he draws out slowly to set a pace with his hips, the wet sounds of you pussy and skin clapping against skin sending a thrill of excitement down his spine.

You get it then, as he pours out all sentiment into you, overcome by passion. He is yours. Even though he just said it, only now does it become evident to you. This is Javier’s way of proving it.

He grabs one of your thighs and lifts your knee to the crook of his elbow, the new angle spreading you further open and allowing him to hit deeper. The impact of his tip hitting every right spot relentlessly forces you to break apart from his lips, your head thrown back into his pillows while practically screaming for more, his face nuzzled in your chest as he melts into you.

“Shit baby, I won’t last.” He warns, sinking his teeth to leave a mark between your breasts. You can feel it too, hot shots of ecstasy creeping up the pit of your stomach every time his cock jumps inside you.

You tug at his hair, a strangled moan escaping his lips. “Do it in me- Please, fill me up.”

Your request sends him right to the edge, his thrusts becoming careless as he starts grinding into you, Javi’s fingers quickly finding your swollen clit. The sole touch made you writhe and reach your high in absolute bliss, clenching your walls around him and crying out from raw pleasure. He fucks you through it, overwhelmed by the sensation. You feel dizzy, barely conscious when he finds his own release, your name spilling from his lips like it was the only word he knew, coming in warm spurts inside you. His spend is dripping from your pussy and thighs when he pulls out and sits up to admire the absolute mess he just made of you.

“Well…” he says, guiding his finger to push his seed back into you, making you whine from the overstimulation. “Hope that made it clear.”

You smile, every muscle in your body weeping from exhaustion. “Yeah… I’ll have to make you jealous more often.”

He groans in annoyance and you pull him back on top of you, spreading tender kisses all over his face, laughing in the meantime.

“Not funny.” He grumbles, despite the grin forming on his lips. Javier rolls to your side, coming to lay down next to you and immediately holding you against his sturdy chest, wrapping his arms around your waist to spoon you. “Stay with me.”

His plead is barely a murmur that filters through your ears and you’re too tired to figure out what those words actually mean. You simply let your eyelids drop and retort with a hardly audible ‘always’.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Another Ending - 3 | Bucky Barnes

Character: ex!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a short week watching over your niece, who loves romance books. She thought you were just a normal aunt, but it turns out you have secrets.

Tags: Spies, action, threat, offense, fight scene, violence, romance, comedy.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The three of you are seated inside the train, the gentle hum of the tracks filling the cabin. You’re holding ‘The Red Swan,’ the novel that both Lori and Bucky had mentioned earlier. As you flip through the pages, your brow furrows.

“Urgh.” You grunt irritably as you skim through yet another overly descriptive scene. The book wasn’t exactly what you expected.

You place your hand over your eyes, exasperated. “70% smut and the plot is only 30%,” you mutter, turning to Lori, who’s glaring at you with puffed cheeks and crossed arms, clearly offended by your critique of her favorite book.

Lori snatches the book from your hand, cradling it protectively. “I feel like you’re hurting my baby,” she says, her voice a mix of frustration and disbelief. “And you’re not even reading it properly!”

You let out a sigh, unable to summon the courage to continue reading. “Amusing. My sister actually lets you read this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Lori flinches, her bravado slipping for a moment. She peeks at you with a guilty expression. “No,” she admits in a timid voice. She had to sneak it under her covers at bedtime. Suddenly, her eyes widen with realization. “Wait, does that mean the… intimate scenes are based on a true story?”

“No!” you exclaim, your voice firm. But before you can elaborate, Bucky chimes in, “A little part of it.”

You shoot him a sharp glare as Lori gasps in shock. “What about the character backgrounds? Are both of you special agents with super uniforms that make you strong? Do you have rooms full of weapons and fast cars with missiles? Oh, oh… what about the part where both of you fall from a high building?”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm. “You’re going to be disappointed, Lori.”

“Why?” she asks, her face falling slightly.

“Because the story exaggerates the characters a bit. The agency doesn’t have that kind of money. No super uniforms, and definitely no fast cars with missiles.” You notice her disappointed expression and can’t resist teasing her.

“But, young lady, the part about the female character being good at fighting—that’s true,” Bucky interjects.

Lori’s face lights up again. “What about you, Mr. B? Are you really that strong and athletic?”

“He’s not that strong,” you say with a playful smirk.

Bucky, amused by the exchange, crosses his arms and leans back. “At the beginning, yes. But what happened next… well, that’s the plot twist,” he says with a knowing grin, leaving Lori wide-eyed and eager to know more.

Here’s a revised version with improved grammar, added descriptions, and enhanced tension between the characters:

“Uhhh… What’s the plot twist?” Lori asked, her curiosity piqued as she looked between you and Bucky.

Bucky raised his eyebrows and smirked at you, the corners of his lips curling up in that infuriatingly confident way he had.

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide the exasperation in your voice. “I can’t believe I was ever worried about you. You fooled me.”

“Dear, that’s what we do. We lie,” Bucky replied smoothly, his tone carrying a hint of something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

The tension between the two of you was palpable, hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. Lori, oblivious to the undercurrents, watched with growing excitement, her eyes darting between you and Bucky as if she were witnessing a live scene from one of her romance novels. She clutched her book tighter, her face flushed with anticipation, clearly enjoying this drama unfolding before her.

Flashback Begins

Back at the security agency, the world was divided into field agents and analysts. You were one of the best field agents, always in the thick of the action, while Bucky was an exceptional analyst, the brain behind countless successful missions. Everyone in the agency worked under alias names, identities hidden even from each other.

Your alias was ‘Nightingale,’ and you quickly earned a reputation for being ruthless and efficient. Bucky, known as ‘Cipher,’ was the analytical genius. Whenever an agent was assigned to a mission with Bucky as the analyst, they knew success was almost guaranteed. Together, the two of you were unstoppable—a perfect combination of brains and brawn.

Despite his sharp mind and keen intellect, Bucky’s unassuming appearance as a nerdy analyst made you worry about him. He wore baggy shirts and glasses, and you often found yourself wondering if a strong gust of wind might just blow him over. You made it your unspoken duty to protect him, thinking he needed it.

But then, everything changed. The day you were gravely injured in the field, on what you thought would be your last mission, Bucky showed up. Not as the meek analyst you’d imagined, but as something else entirely.

He ripped off his shirt to reveal muscles that had been hidden beneath those baggy clothes, and with surprising strength, he pulled you out of harm’s way. He wasn’t just your analyst; he was a force to be reckoned with.

From that day forward, your attitude toward him shifted. The camaraderie between you deepened, but so did something else—something you tried desperately to ignore. In the world of espionage, there was no room for romance. It was dangerous, reckless. And what made it worse, far worse, was that you were a double agent.

But the thrill of the chase, the secrecy, the risk of being discovered—it all made your hidden relationship even more exhilarating. Every stolen glance, every touch in the dark, was fraught with danger. You were torn, constantly on edge, wondering if you should confess your secret to Bucky or bury it forever.

Then came the day when your worst fears were realized. The agency uncovered a mole within its ranks, and it all came crashing down during a mission codenamed ‘The Red Swan.’ The mission failed spectacularly, and in the aftermath, the truth emerged.

It wasn’t you. It was Bucky. He wasn’t just a double agent; he was a triple agent.

Flashback Ends

“That story is much better because it’s more realistic,” Lori declared with a satisfied grin. Then she turned to Bucky, her curiosity piqued. “What about the mission? Was that part real?”

Bucky gave her a half-smile, his voice low and serious. “Sorry, little girl, I can’t tell you about that. Or, well… you know.”

“Did you just threaten my niece?” You shot him a sharp look, protective instincts flaring.

“Just gave her a warning,” he replied, watching as Lori tensed up. A moment later, his expression softened slightly. “But the hotel part is true.”

Lori’s mood flipped instantly, her excitement bubbling up again. She squealed with glee, only to suddenly make a face and cover her eyes. “Ewww… My brain needs to stop projecting that image!”

‘Serves you right,’ you thought, amused by her reaction. You watched as she tried to shake off whatever wild imagination had conjured up.

Just then, an announcement echoed through the train, informing everyone that they had arrived at the station. The three of you gathered your things and stepped off the train, but Lori dragged her feet, her steps growing slower as she took in her surroundings. It was clear she didn’t want to leave this adventure behind.

You noticed her reluctance, but you knew that for her safety, it was best for her to be with your sister. Standing at the station entrance, you reached into your bag, pulled out another burner phone, and dialed your sister’s number. “Where are you?”

“I was waiting for your call. Have you arrived?” your sister replied, her tone far too casual for your liking.

“Yes, we’re here. Where are you? I told you to wait at the train station,” you said, glancing around the bustling platform.

“Well… I’m on a train,” she admitted, sounding sheepish.

A cold shiver ran down your spine as her words sank in. Panic rising, you bolted toward the nearest platform, ignoring the startled looks of other passengers. You leaped over the barrier, triggering the alarms as you skipped the ticket gate. Security guards shouted after you, but you kept running, your eyes locked on the approaching train.

You skidded to a halt just as the train pulled in, breathless and frantic, and peered through the windows. There, standing casually inside one of the cars, was your sister. She met your gaze, mouthed, “I’m sorry,” then, to your utter disbelief, lifted both middle fingers in your direction with a mischievous grin.

“You bitch!” you yelled, unable to contain your frustration as you mirrored the gesture.

As the train began to pull away from the platform, leaving you behind, you felt a flood of memories rush back. This was exactly why you chose to keep your distance from your sister. Every time you babysat Lori, she’d find a way to take advantage of the situation. And just like that, you were reminded of the chaos she could bring into your life.

You trudged back to the station entrance where Bucky and Lori were waiting. Bucky raised an eyebrow as you approached, sensing your irritation. “What happened?”

“Don’t ask,” you muttered, rubbing your temples as you tried to calm down.

Lori, on the other hand, seemed to recognize the familiar expression on your face—the one you always wore when her mom got under your skin. She jumped up and down with excitement, pumping her fists in the air. “Yes!”

Bucky still looked confused. “Does this mean she’s coming with us to find the author?”

Before you could respond, Lori was already trying to prove her worth. “Ow… ow… you need me! I know where she is. I follow all her social media accounts.”

🥀🥀🥀🥀

“🎵Road trip and adventure! So exciting!🎵” Lori sang from the backseat, her voice full of enthusiasm as the car sped along the highway.

Bucky focused on driving, steering the car toward the location where the author was supposed to be. Lori’s information seemed accurate—she’d been tracking the author’s every move with surprising precision. “From her story an hour ago, she was at the bookstore. Fifteen minutes later, she said she wanted to go to her favorite café, and now she’s got her favorite coffee.”

“Doesn’t anyone care about their privacy anymore?” Bucky muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You glanced at him and shrugged. “Guess not. People are so eager to share their lives online that they forget who might be watching. Makes it easy for someone like Lori to keep tabs on them.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, where Lori sat humming to herself, lost in her world.

The car slowed to a stop in front of a cozy-looking café. The three of you peered through the large front window, zeroing in on a woman seated near it. She was engrossed in her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

There she was—Jill Krege, the author who had somehow captured fragments of your life in her book.

Jill was a woman in her mid-40s, with a calm, unassuming demeanor. She wore a hand-knitted cardigan, its intricate patterns hinting at a patient and thoughtful personality. Her hair, streaked with hints of silver, was loosely tied back, and she occasionally sipped from a steaming mug as she worked.

“She’s kinda…” you began, struggling to find the right words to describe the feeling that settled in your chest upon seeing her.

“You see it too?” Bucky finished for you, his voice low and slightly puzzled.

“Hm…” You nodded, your eyes narrowing as you tried to reconcile the ordinary appearance of the woman with the secrets she seemed to know.

Lori, sensing the tension but not quite understanding it, piped up from the backseat. “What… what am I missing?”

Bucky leaned back in his seat, still studying Jill. “She doesn’t seem like a spy or a diplomat.”

“But appearances can be deceiving. Just like you,” you added, turning to look at Bucky. Your words were edged with both admiration and a hint of old bitterness.

He smirked, his confidence shining through. “Well, dear, that’s because I’m the best.”

Bucky’s hand moved toward the door handle, his mind made up. “I should talk to her,” he said, already halfway out of the car.

“Stop!” Lori’s voice rang out, sharp and urgent.

Bucky paused, one foot on the pavement, and turned to face her with a questioning look.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me to meet my favorite author. Let me talk to her,” Lori pleaded, her eyes wide with determination.

Bucky frowned. “Kid, this isn’t a game. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”

“She’ll think you’re an annoying fan or, worse, a stalker. But she’ll be comfortable talking to a 13-year-old girl,” Lori countered, crossing her arms with the certainty only a teenager could muster.

You exchanged a glance with Bucky, the logic of her argument sinking in. She did have a point—Jill was more likely to drop her guard around a harmless-looking child than a mysterious adult.

Bucky hesitated, clearly torn between protecting Lori and the necessity of getting information. His eyes flickered with concern as he looked at you, seeking your approval.

You sighed, considering Lori's suggestion. The idea made you a bit uneasy, but you couldn't deny that it might work. “Alright,” you finally agreed, giving her a cautious nod. “But be careful. We’ll be close by.”

Lori's eyes sparkled with excitement as she grinned. “I’ve got a better idea.”

You raised an eyebrow, bracing yourself for whatever she had in mind.

Lori leaned forward, her voice lowering as if she were about to share a secret. “We’ll act like a family!”

You blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. Lori’s enthusiasm was infectious, but the idea of playing house in front of the author who somehow knew so much about your life was a lot to take in. “A family?” you echoed, your tone a mix of skepticism and amusement.

Lori nodded vigorously, her ponytail bouncing with each movement. “Yes! Think about it. We go in there like we’re just a normal family out for some coffee. She won’t suspect a thing!”

Bucky, who had been quietly listening, crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly, considering the idea. “And how exactly do we pull that off?” he asked, his voice laced with both curiosity and a hint of sarcasm.

Lori didn’t miss a beat. “Simple! You’re the dad,” she said, pointing at Bucky. “You’re the mom,” she continued, turning to you. “And I’m the adorable daughter who’s super excited to meet her favorite author.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation momentarily cutting through the tension. “Lori, that’s… quite the plan,” you said, shaking your head slightly.

But as you looked into her eager eyes, you could see how much she wanted this—how much she needed to feel like she was a part of something bigger, even if it was just an elaborate ruse.

Bucky smirked, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of amusement. “Well, ‘Mom,’ what do you say? Shall we give this a shot?”

You exhaled, still unsure but unable to deny Lori’s infectious excitement. “Alright, fine. We’ll play along. But remember, Lori, we’re here to get information, not just to have fun.”

Lori’s face lit up, and she practically bounced in her seat. “Got it! I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise!”

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@saiyanprincessswanie

@just-levyy

@vioplay19

Author Note: Hey friends,

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[inkblot22]

Can You Keep A Little Secret?

JFC this took me longer than usual I'm so sorry anon. I sort of explained it before, but I didn't exactly use your prompt, based on ineptitude on my part. After I finish reading Oshi no Ko, I might try again! Line divider by @/cafekitsune.

This fic is aimed towards sort of everyone, but the reader possesses afab features (they don't come into play until later, this chapter has no mention of them.) You'll understand what I mean by it being for everyone if you read the first paragraph or so. It has to do with suspending your belief/ employing your imagination.

TW for: lots of confusion, semi-shy reader, creep behavior, mention of death, mention of lobotomy/grippy sock jail, reincarnation. These warnings will get worse, and this takes place when all characters are 18+.

Waking up was never your favorite part of the day, but that feeling increases tenfold when you wake up in someone else’s body. You know for sure you didn’t look like this last week, and the name on your ID is similar to your own, but you don’t recognize the face in the mirror. Whoever you’re inhabiting has a few similar features to your own, but your skin was never this dewy, your eyes never so… hollow and strange. 

When you looked up your name, you found out that you, or your body, at least, had died in your sleep. When you looked up the name on that ID, you found out that you’re the child of some big business man and a prolific model, and you apparently dabble in acting. Your dad isn’t your dad, but he calls you every night to make sure you’re settling into your “new” apartment. Your mom isn’t your mom, but she has popped by once or twice to ask you how you’ve been and make you really good food. She mentioned last night that your acting instructor was worried, since you hadn’t attended your Thursday classes, and also that your agent has been trying to contact you. You didn’t know you had an agent.

When you called your agent, who was literally just titled “Agent” in your new phone, she sounded relieved then irritated, chiding you for living the high life too fast. She said you weren’t popular or loved enough to go on week-long benders, and then she mentioned that she had a job for you and she’d see you on Thursday. According to this phone that isn’t yours, Thursday was tomorrow. 

You made a night of getting prepared- slathering on the fancy face masks, trying on various outfits, scrolling through the pictures on the phone of your new body in the past, painting your really gorgeous nails- and then you went to sleep and woke up to a phone call from your new dad. 

“Hi, sweetheart!”

“Uh… hi, Dad…” You mumbled. You didn’t know him from Adam, but there was no point in being rude to him.

He pauses, and then he speaks slowly, “Did you hear from your agent, honey?”

“Yeah- yeah I did, uh, I have acting class in a little, and she said she has a job for me.”

“Oh, I’m glad to hear it! You know you can always visit me if something is wrong, okay? Just call me or Devin and he’ll come get you as soon as possible.”

You don’t know who Devin is, but you don’t point it out, “Of course. Thank you, dad.”

There was another pause. This one stretches out for a while and then he mumbles, “Okay… love you, sweetpea.”

“Uh… love you too. I’ll call you when I get back home?”

“Sure thing. Bye bye.”

The call ends with a click and you hop in the shower, trying to scrub away the confusion. You pair the lotion with a body spray that makes you smell like a summer afternoon in an apple orchard, and then you dress yourself in a soft off the shoulder sweater dress with a pair of tights with little sequins and gems sewn onto the sheer black material. You pull your hair back, tied at the nape of your neck, and roll on some lip gloss. You grab your bag, which isn’t your bag, and stroll out, walking down the street to get to the talent agency.

The receptionist looks at you in some measure of shock and greets you kindly. You smile and wave. He looks even more confused as you clomp into the stairwell. Once you get to the third floor, mildly out of breath, you hurry to room 3-5 and silently slide into the back.

You’re not sure why you’re acting so covert, as the class hasn’t even started. A woman with dark hair strolls in and flinches when she sees you sitting there, your new name tumbling from her lips with confusion.

“Hello.” You hope that she’s the instructor, “How are you?”

She looks at you like you grew two heads and forces a smile, “Oh, I’m well, dear. Give me a moment to look outside.”

She clicks to the window in her heels and opens the blinds looking around wildly before she turns back to you.

“Well, nothing’s on fire and there’s a distinct lack of flying pigs, so I guess you’re finally serious about getting better at acting?” 

“Uh… I…?” You don’t know how to respond, “I didn’t realize I’d been late so often.”

“Late? Half the time you didn’t even show up. The only person worse than you is-”

The door behind you opens. You clench your hands to stop the shaking you just realized you were struggling with, and turn slightly in your seat to see a willowy young man, tousled lavender hair being haphazardly smoothed by his slender hands.

The instructor snorts, “Speak of the devil. Hello, Mr. Felmier.”

He smiles, but it’s a bit too calculated. When he speaks, his voice is soft, almost artificial, “Ah ha… Good morning, Angie.”

Angie, evidently, rolls her eyes and takes a seat at the front of the room, crossing her long legs, and tilts her head skeptically, “Sure. If a satellite doesn’t crash in this room and kill us all in the middle of class, I’ll be shocked.”

“Mr. Felmier” walks over and smiles at you. It seems even more strained than before, and keeps eye contact with you as he points to the chair next to you, his voice high and sweet, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Oh, of course not. I don’t own that chair, haha!” You joke. 

His face twitches, some micro expression that you’re just observant enough to notice, but not to see, and he takes a seat. Angie gets up and leaves and you look out the window. You can feel eyes on you, and when you turn to look at him, his face is impassive save for a slight narrowing of his eyes. You look down at yourself and pat your cheeks, suddenly nervous.

“Oh, no, is there something on me?” You ask.

He doesn’t immediately respond, his eyes blinking so fast that if he hadn’t done it twice you would have never seen the movement, and then he gives you that sweet, plastic smile, “Oh, no. Your makeup is different than usual. It looks nice. Pretty.”

“I- I’m only wearing lipgloss, so I guess that’s why. Thank you.”

He nods slowly, and tilts his head, still smiling as though he’s trained to do so, “After we’re done here, did you want to go get brunch together?”

You’re about to say no. You don’t remember him, because this is not your life you’re living, but if you did know him, you’d decline anyway. Something feels funny about him. You don’t really have to decline, though, since you have to go down to floor 2 and see your agent afterwards anyway, “Oh, uh, I’m so sorry. I have to do something after.”

“I can wait.”

“I don’t want to put you out. Maybe another time?”

His eyebrows pinch together ever so slightly and his smile doesn’t strain, but it feels wrong as he leans his elbow on the back of his chair to better face you, “Did you hear the news from Mirelle?”

“What news?” You don’t know who Mirelle is.

“Oh, you’re meeting with her afterwards, aren’t you?” He smooths the hair along your temple so it is slicked behind your ear, “Are you wearing that perfume I got you? You said you hated it.”

Okay, so whoevers body this was definitely knew this man, and now you don’t even know his full name. Judging from the way he’s speaking to you, you were friends at least. Your lashes flutter and you look away from him.

“I- I’m sorry. It smells very nice.” You don’t know how you’re supposed to be acting. The irony of waiting for an acting class while not knowing what your role here happens to be is not lost on you.

Felmier sits up like you insulted him and his voice is quiet, so quiet and tense that you don’t think you’re supposed to hear him, “Interesting.” 

You glance at him again, “What?”

“I didn’t say anything. You like that bagel place down the street, don’t you? After you see Mirelle, meet me in the lobby. I think we should have a chat.” Although he is smiling, his voice doesn’t leave any room for argument as he turns back to the front. 

You stand up, leaving your purse in your seat, and walk to the window, looking out of it for a moment until Angie strolls back in. She clicks her tongue and you walk back to your seat.

“It’s just you two? Now I’m really expecting a freak accident. Well, let’s get started.”

Acting class was… interesting. Since it was just the three of you, Angie had you read lines from a script and act out some kind of argument. She seemed pleased with your performance, but Felmier kept stumbling over his lines and making the wrong expression. He seemed tense by the time the two hour long session was over. You didn’t want to follow that thread, and besides, you had somewhere to be. You went down the stairs again and bumped into a woman with silver hair, who looked at you just as confused as everyone else had been, and smiled sweetly, genuinely.

“Hey, you. You’re a bit early.” She says.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so? I don’t know.” You guessed this was supposed to be Mirelle, your agent, maybe. 

“It’s a good change, babe. Why don’t you come into my office?” She doesn’t really ask, since she’s already leading you over.

She takes a seat behind her desk and you take a seat in front of her, and she taps away at her computer for a moment before she says something.

“You remember Epel? Epel Felmier?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Oh? You ‘guess so’? Not that the two of you are constantly arguing, or anything.” She smirks, glancing away from her monitor to look at you, “Regardless, I’ve got something that will help with your little PR nightmare last month. What were you thinking?”

“Uh, I’m sorry.”

Her eyes narrow a fraction, but whatever she was thinking is ignored, “You and Epel are gonna be collaborating on an upcoming short film. Hopefully the two of you don’t get into another screaming match.”

“Um. Yeah. Hopefully.” All this new information and these new people are making your head spin. You don’t want to start panicking- you did enough of that last week- but you’re already exhausted. You wonder if there’s a back entrance to this building so you can just sneak out and don’t have to talk to Epel again. You don’t think you can mentally handle him talking to you over a cup of coffee.

Your agent, Mirelle, is looking at you expectantly, like she just said something. Your heart jumps into your throat, then sinks to your gut and you clear your throat quietly, shifting in your chair.

She laughs airily, “Oh, you didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

You shake your head, and she laughs again.

“I just said that production starts Monday. Try not to do anything crazy. This project is monumentally important for your public image.”

“Okay. Sorry for causing so much trouble in the past.” You mutter, standing up.

She shrugs with a happy little grin, “Oh, you’re young. Maybe you’ll grow out of it.”

You just nod. How are you supposed to even respond to that? If you get mad, you’ll probably get hysterical, and if you get hysterical, that is a one way ticket to a stay in grippy sock jail or a lobotomy. Rich people are different, and even though you’re living in some rich person’s body, you did not live this life for longer than a week. 

You purposely walk to the other staircase. Most buildings have two for fire safety. Your eyes water as you pause on the stairs and you sigh before you start descending them. 

Just as you get to the exit, your hand on the door, you hear a voice behind you, “Hey.”

It scares you out of your skin. You jump and spin and squawk, only to meet the wicked smile of Epel. It doesn’t reach his round blue eyes. He tilts his head from side to side, slowly, as if appraising you, and then he starts walking towards you and you push back against the door, opening it ever so slightly. He stops his motion and looks a tad surprised.

Then his eyes narrow, “Come back in.”

His voice sounds different, rougher. You don’t really want to, but it’s hot outside and you figure from all the odd looks and reactions you’ve gotten, running would be too erratic for this poor person’s life you’ve taken over. 

When you close the door and remain leaned against it, Epel’s face relaxes. You didn’t even realize he was making any sort of tense expression. He glances at the spandrel, the area beneath the stairs, and sighs.

“You hit your head last week? That why you were missin’?” Yeah, he’s speaking entirely differently. He has a sort of charming country twang to his voice, an underlying roughness that makes him seem even more boyish than before.

“Huh?”

“‘Huh?’” He mocks, looking back at you. He looks like he might cry, but his eyes are angry, “That all you got to say? For years you’ve told me that I don’t mean shit, and now you’re actin’ like you don’t even know me.”

He is right. You don’t know him at all. Even though you’re still in the cool building, you begin to sweat. You don’t know what to say to this without going through the experiences you’ve had in the past week, so you decide you don’t have to, especially since it seems like he may get aggressive if you say the wrong thing.

You lean hard against the aptly named panic bar, turn on your heel once outside, and take off running. It dawns on you a little late that he might be following, or, seven forbid, that he knows where you live, so you take a different route as dictated by your GPS and call your new father as soon as you get in the building.

It’s the middle of the work day, so he obviously doesn’t pick up. You unlock the apartment door and pant breathlessly, leaving a hasty voicemail, “O-oh, great seven- ugh- okay, hi, Dad. I told you I’d call you when I get home, so that’s what I’m doing. Hope I didn’t disrupt a meeting or whatever. Call me back, bye.”

You flop face down on the bed and groan, rolling onto your back as the ringtone that you would never choose goes off. In bold white letters on the screen, it says “Bumpkin Boy” with no other indication of who it might be. You pick up.

The voice on the other end sounds heated, a quiet mocking lilt to it, “Bet you went home, huh?”

Your blood runs cold and your very ability to speak is ripped from your lips.

“S’okay. You don’t have to talk. I could pay you a little visit, see what it’s like to live like a nepo baby for a day, but I think…” He pauses, and when he next speaks you hear the smile in his voice, “I think I’ll just wait for Monday, since you owe me a coffee date, don’t you?”

He hangs up after that. You stand up and double-check that you’ve locked the door before you hide in your closet and try not to start hyperventilating. You can’t even beat yourself up for this one. These circumstances are entirely out of your control.

[mammalsofaction]

Merry Fuckin' Christmas

Rating: M

Relationships: Perry the Platypus/Heinz Doofenshmirtz

Add tags: Established relationships, dancing, speaking perry, human Perry, pnfsecretsanta, merry Christmas liz dont hate me bc i really like this prompt, FUCK TIMEZONES I JUST WOKE UP

Dedicated to @agentlizardofowca for the secret santa

Read here on ao3

"Oh, this takes me back.”

Perry looks up, a little further back than is comfortable, on account of them both being pressed so close together. Perry raises an eyebrow at him.

“You don’t remember?” Heinz asks, a little sullenly.

Perry hums a little, as if in thought. He closes his eyes, allowing Heinz the opportunity to stare unabashedly; observe his smooth, relaxed features and the subtle flush from the cold outside. Given the opportunity, Heinz could stare at him forever.

Perry briefly takes his hands off of his waist to sign, and Heinz clutches at his shoulders. New Years?

He hadn’t even thought of that, but now that he does, the memory brings itself forward with a familiar flush of warmth. It’s a better memory, for sure.

“I was thinking more along the lines of our first.” Heinz prods.

Perry furrows his brow, a head tilt as eloquent as a thousand words. Heinz could almost hear him say it; That was our first.

Heinz shakes his head, giggling, and oh, that must be the champagne. His feet are getting sore–they must’ve been here for hours–but he feels reluctant to let this night pass just yet. “Earlier,” he coaxes. “Early. Our first summer.”

The furrow stays for a second longer, than two, and Heinz could tell the moment it hits him. Perry breathes out an involuntary chuckle, and Heinz could feel his own heart growing two sizes.

We were doing the macarena, Perry complains.

“There was a salsa in there somewhere.”

Some ballet moves.

“You did most of the leading,” Heinz recalls, giggling again, because he had been so irritated by it.

Not on purpose, Perry responds, and Heinz is man enough to give him that. Perry doesn’t lie, not for stupid, little things. He doesn’t see the point, when he’d lied enough for two lifetimes. Besides, I knew you were a better dancer.

Heinz raised an eyebrow. “Even then?”

Even then. Perry confirms.

The Michael Buble song playing, an instrumental of Baby, It’s Cold Outside, ends with a flourish, and so do they. Perry leads, and Heinz follows, but he does it on his own time, on his own terms, and Perry meets him half-way. He twirls, and Perry spins him, and when he trips on his feet Perry covers for him, swooping him low. The crowd around them; OWCA staff, agents and interns, clap enthusiastically for them. Heinz feels dizzy, delighted, but even with all the attention there’s no feeling on earth like Perry’s eyes on him, gulping him down like a tall glass of water.

Perry leads him away from the dancefloor before the next song could start, sneaking away into one of the many shadowed nooks and crannies outside the hall. They’re grinning and giggling like a couple of teenagers, not that Heinz had any sort of similar experience in his youth. He’s tempted to lead Perry all the way down the rest of the hall, outside the gates and into the parking lot, to bring him home, but then Perry pins him against the wall, hiking him up to sit on his hip so Heinz could wrap his legs around him, and oh. Well. He could settle with something quick before they go.

“I kept it, y’know.” Perry mumbles, his accent thick and slurred from mulled wine, now that they were well away from every other listening ear.

“Hm?”

“The magazine,” Perry smirks. He hikes Heinz a little higher on his hip, making him squeak. “You look amazing in tights.”

“Is that your grappling hook,” Heinz asks weakly. “Or are you just happy to see me?”

Perry laughs, pulling his lover down. Their lips clash like titans; it’s hungry and sloppy and a little too wet, and when Perry pulls away there is a smear of bold rouge all across the lower half of his face, and Heinz is thinking they really should’ve at least made it out to the car. Perry presses his mouth below Heinz’s ear–in their periphery, the crowd inside the hall has begun making a ruckus. The clock strikes midnight with a loud, echoing gong, masking the sound of his involuntary moan as Perry slips a hand down the front of his white tuxedo pants.

Merry Christmas indeed.

[lizzyk137]

Baby's Secret- An Agent Gibbs Fic (Gibbs X Reader)

Description: After keeping your relationship a secret, what will it take for Gibbs to admit your his. Warnings: Mentions of bombings, swearing, hospital, fluff

(Part One) Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

Dinner at Gibbs place was great, and it certainly wasn't food you both were devouring.

The next few months kept you busy with new cases, therapy sessions and at-home date with Gibbs. Gibbs wasn't one to leave his house much when he was home from work. He was stubborn, stating he goes out enough at work that he doesn't need to on his days off, and he stays with that statement no matter how much you try to change his mind.

Now you didn't mind staying home with Gibbs. It was relaxing and brought a calm over you that you needed after a stressful job, plus, some of the activities were very entertaining. But you wanted more.

As time went on, and your relationship stayed a secret from the team, due to Gibbs breaking one of his own rules, you were starting to get irritated that it didn't seem like he wanted people to know about you. On cases he always stayed a far enough distance away from you so no one could assume and reserved to checking on you when you were out of work when you got hurt. He also never expressed how he felt about you. He was a man of few words and you could feel that he cared about you when you were alone but you also know that things could be very much different as they were presented to you. And as good as he made you feel, he also equally was hurting you.

"Where are you going?" He asked six months into your relationship. It was a quiet Sunday morning, and it was gorgeous out, so you thought of going out and enjoying it.

"I'm going to the farmers market with Tim." You had answered back as you grabbed your purse and a reusable bag.

"McGee?" You could hear him getting up from his chair.

You turned around to meet his eyes, "Yes McGee, we always go to the farmers market on our days off."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. We've been doing it for the last year." You laughed.

"Oh." You walked up to him and gave him a peck on the lips, hoping his scowl would wipe away from his face, but it stayed.

"I'll be back in a few hours. See you!"

You didn't realize that day would leave to you two having to expose the very secret Gibbs had hidden for months.

"Y/N, look at this!" McGee was holding up a poster for an old video game.

"Wow, twenty dollars? I don't know if it's a steal or a rip-off." You laughed as he handed you the framed poster and reached into his wallet for cash. He paid the merchant and grabbed the poster back.

"Defiently a steal for me, the starting price online for this is $100. So where to next, Y/N?"

"There is a cute little stall selling plushies that I was eyeing, if that's okay?" He nodded, and let you lead.

You headed over to the stall when you felt a pair of eyes on you in the crowd. You scanned the area but didn't seem to find anyone out of the ordinary. You reached your stall, and you and Tim were checking out the plushies when you felt the same feeling as before on you.

"Tim, I think someone is watching us." You whispered as you held up a small plush bat.

"Really?"

You showed him the plush bat, "Yeah, while we were walking over here and now. No one seems out of the ordinary. I might just be paranoid. What do you think for Abbie?"

He nodded, and you held the bat in your arms. "I'll keep an eye out." You nodded back to him and grabbed a cute orange kitten plush.

"I think I want this!" You smiled up at him, trying to make the air a bit lighter.

His lips morphed into a smile, "Well then, I guess we better get it. It's on me since you bought me coffee."

"Aw, Tim! That's sweet of you, thanks!" You showed the merchant your items and they tallied them up and you both paid. "Alright, I think it's lunch time!"

Tim stood next to you, looking around. "I feel it too. Lets head to another stall, I don't like this feeling of being watched.

"Sure." You took a step forward when you felt and heard a sudden blast behind you. Warm air hit you, shoving your body forwards as you flew through the air, body tumbling as soon as it touched back down to the ground. Wood flew everywhere around you, as you tried to get up to look at the damage, when you felt another blast from another stall besides you as the world grew black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gibbs was frightened. He hadn't been this frightened in a long time. Two of his teammates were lying unconscious in the hospital from some lunatic setting of a bomb and your condition wasn't the greatest as he watched your heart monitor bounce around irregularly.

"Hey, boss." Tony's voice interrupted his thoughts. "McGee just woke up. The doctor is checking him over and once he's done, we can talk to him."

The doctor came out an hour later and let the team know they could go in to see their friend.

"Take your time but what happened, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"Everything was normal until we got to our last stall. Y/N said she felt like someone was watching us but she didn't see anyone, and neither did I. I felt it as we were leaving but it was too late." McGee looked worried as he explained what happened to Gibbs. "I didn't see anyone but if I had just suggested we leave right off then she wouldn't here."

"Hey, nothing could have stopped those bombs from going off." Tony said gently, seeing McGee getting worked up as his heart monitor started beeping louder.

"Bombs? There was more than one? I only remember one of them."

Ziva nodded, "There was two. One at the stall you went too and one that was behind it."

They eventually left McGee after calming him down, and headed back into the waiting room.

"Tony, see what Abby has on the bomb. Ziva, figure out what stalls McGee and Y/L/N visit every week this past year."

"Past year? McGee didn't say anything about the past-"

"Just do it, Ziva!" Gibbs barked out.

"On it."

Gibbs circled around back to your room and watched you lying there. "We'll get them for you. I won't stop until I catch those bastards. Wait for me just a little longer."

Gibbs didn't visit the hospital for the next few days as he stayed up going over every little detail they had and trying to discover new leads. You still had yet to wake up, which fueled him even more to find whoever did this to you.

"Gibbs, I found something." Abby said over the phone.

"I'll be down." He said and ended the call. "Abby has a something, let's go."

The elevators chimed and as he and the team stepped off and into Abby's lab. "Whatcha got, Abs?"

"I found something in the security cameras. The shop that Y/N went to every week was this one here," Abby pulled up the shop's logo on the screen, "it's a small business that sells stuffed animals. She had been eyeing this cat for weeks. With my findings on the surveillance and evidence from the bomb, it looked like whoever made the cat used it as a trigger. Once out of the safe zone, it set off both bombs. The second one was delayed due to the stall being moved slightly during set up." She showed a few slides of the stuffed cat, one that looked similar to her cat that had just past away, and then to a video display of how the bombs worked. "I did some more digging, and found that the maker for these stuffed animals come from a company located just out of D.C."

"We spoke with the shop keepers and they said they draw up the designs and then send them out to a group that then goes around to manufacturers." Tony said.

"Tony, Ziva, go to the factory and interview the workers."

"Wait! I can do you one better." Abby said. "I managed to hack into their surveillance cameras, courtesy of McGee, and found exactly who worked on the stuffed cats for our small business. He goes by the name, James Harrington." Abby hit a key on the keyboard pulling up his James' social media. "It looks like Y/N and him had gone out a few times but about six months ago they haven't communicated or gone out."

"Let's bring him in." Gibbs said through a clenched jaw.

Gibbs was pumped for the interrogation and with a bit of yelling and one slam of the desk, James was putty in his hands. Spilling everything from how you rejected him after a few dates, and that you were always around McGee and he was furious that you could be with anyone but him.

"She always was with him. It was disgusting to watch them together every Sunday. I had to teach her boyfriend a lesson." James spat.

Gibbs eyes narrowed at the word boyfriend. "Well lucky for you, her boyfriend gets to ruin your life. Have fun in prison, while I get to continue dating her." He got up and slammed the interrogation room door closed and headed straight to the hospital, ignoring the shocked looks from Ziva and Tony.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gibbs pulled your hand closer to him and rested his cheek on it as he clasped it in his. Ever since he got the confession out of James, he had been by your side waiting for you to wake up.

Ziva, Tony and McGee watched from the door way, Gibbs oblivious to the three of them watching which was very much unlike him.

"I can't believe they're dating. How did we miss this?" Ziva whispered.

"What I wanna know is how." McGee answered back.

Tony chuckled, "I bet it was after they went 50 Shades of Grey during that undercover mission."

"Do you think they've been together that long?" Ziva questioned. "That was like half a year ago."

"It explains why Gibbs avoids her during cases."

"But why keep it a secret?" McGee asked.

"Maybe it's because they're happy with just each other." Tony replied, watching Gibbs gently kiss your forehead.

Gibbs watched as you slept peacefully. You looked like an angel, to him you always did, but especially now because you looked so peaceful. You were always peaceful when you slept. He could watch you for hours, running his fingers through your hair as you cuddled into him, your head on his chest.

He closed his eyes, feeling days worth of no sleep catching up to him.

"Jethro?" He thought it was your voice, but how could it be? You've been unconscious for the past week.

"Jethro?" The voice was clearing up and it definitely sounded like you. But it had to be a dream, he thought.

"Jethro!" Your voice was much louder this time, enough that Gibbs' head sprang up off the mattress and his eyes opened to meet yours.

"Y/N?" Gibbs said shakily.

You were sitting up, your hand still in his, with a big smile on your face. "You've been asleep for a few hours, you're quite cute when you're sleeping." You giggled.

Gibbs looked at you in disbelief for a second before he crushed you to his chest, holding you tightly. "Don't you ever leave me like that again." He whispered. "From now on, anywhere you want to go I'll follow. I can't lose you."

You pulled him away and cupped his cheek. "Are you okay with that?"

"This whole thing has made me realized how much I care for you. I'm not letting you walk out that door again, especially when you want me there."

He watched you smile, cupped the back of your head and placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

"No more hiding?"

"No more hiding."

Taglist:

@crimeshowjunkie

@slxmw

So sorry this took forever! So many things in my life popped up half way through writing this! The second half of this doesn't do the story line justice. Let me know what you think down below!!

[fluffle-writes]

hello! I loved the weirdcore au, such a cool idea, i wanted to ask, how do vil and rook clean their wings? taking a bath seems kinda risky, imagine the pain of getting soap on multiple eyes! Actually their self care routine as a whole makes me curious, does vil still wear makeup here? Or he just takes care of his hair?

Weirdcore AU Masterlist Here!

I AM AWAKE AND READY TO TALK MORE ABOUT MY AU :D

Vil and Rook's wings! They definitely need to work around the eyes, but they have third eyelids for each of their eyes - similar to crocodiles! This allows them to fly with them open to observe the ground beneath them - which can assist in hunting or searching for something. It can also mean that irritants are more difficult to get into their eyes - but there are still problems with using cleaning agents on their wings.

Generally though, they actually don't use soaps on their wings! A thorough enough job of preening with clean water washes away any accumulated dirt, blood, dust, or dead skin cells away well enough - and damaged feathers come loose quite easily to be pulled out during preening sessions. Not to mention, soaps can strip the wings of natural oils that protect their skin and feathers.

(Chances are, if you visit in the evenings, you may come across groups of Pomefiore students preening one-another's wings in little cliques - as it's a common bonding activity for individuals with feathered wings.)

As for the rest of their self care routines, it would really need to differ from person to person... I'll speak more in depth about how their features work as well as how they maintain their appearances under the cut.

Vil's flesh has an almost malleable feel to it - it's almost slime-like to the touch but without any residue left behind, while also having the texture of human skin. Looking at him closely enough reveals that his body is actually semi-transparent. He uses pigment sacs - similar to octopi - to imitate the appearance of galacies on his skin's surface, but he can just as easily manipulate light to alter his appearance as he wishes.

Because of this, his skin may be more fragile and need more gentle cleansers and a thorough moisturising routine - which Vil keeps on top of, of course. Additionally, although I was unable to include it in his sprite edit, Vil has near-invisible glass-like talons instead of fingernails and toenails which he keeps well maintained and filed sharp.

Vil's hair is odd in the sense that it's more like liquid than hair. It's quite viscous, but leaves no residue when touched like his skin, and anything that touches it can pass through with little difficulties aside from the viscosity. Touching it can leave a tingling (almost electric) sensation in the hands, and ingestion can spell death due to the toxicity of the oils and hormones Vil's body produces to ward off danger. It doesn't need cleaning as it maintains itself for the most part, but Vil often adds ground up gold and gemstones to colour it how he wants to.

His wings and tail, as mentioned above, are kept neat and tidy through preening sessions with Rook and, more recently, Epel. He has glands that secrete natural oils under his feathers, which can be spread across them to moisturise them properly and strengthen them.

(Fun fact - When Vil was a newborn, he looked more like an amoeba with six stubby little limbs (which later grew into his wings!) He learned how to maintain a much more structured body shape and control his pigment sacs like his father later on in life)

Rook's self care routines are more focused on his animalistic traits - polishing his horns and brushing through his fur any time it gets a bit too unruly. He also often applies moisturising oils to the palms of his hands, as they are similar to paw pads that foxes have and need more tlc to keep them soft and reduce irritation/itchiness.

Bathing habits of his are similar to Vil, vetoing the use of soap on his wings but still using them on the rest of his body. Due to his fur, though, Rook may have a hard time getting thoroughly dry after without help - although he often opts to shake himself off and flap his wings to create wind to help him dry faster. Because of this, bathing has to be an evening task for him - lest he end up with skin irritation from trapped moisture.

(Vil spent a god awful amount of time combing through Rook's fur and applying potions to his skin to prevent irritation when he first moved to Pomefiore - and since then Rook's always been manhandled a little bit if Vil suspects he's falling slightly behind on that area of self-care. He is NOT sitting with Rook in his lap for hours untangling that mess of a coat again - his shedding in the spring is bad enough!)

Epel needed a LOT of TLC when Vil first spotted him - his body, hair, and wings are all made of a marble-like material. Had he practiced self care often enough, Epel would have handled the cold climate in Harveston perfectly well. However, he would often insist that applying protective wax and oils to maintain smooth skin was unnecessary since he could handle the cold just fine without it.

This meant that, once he arrived at NRC, what would have been smooth and well cared for features was instead rough around the edges with damage done by the cold and the snow from years spent outside in that environment. Epel's self care routine is chock full of revitalising tinctures designed to help his skin regain it's strength and smoothness, as well as a special type of beeswax to protect him from any more damage - which is also applied to his horns.

As for cleaning, soap and water works well except for on his wings - which instead has a special cleanser Vil made with keratin-boosting properties to ensure that they're strengthened properly without interfering with Epel's ability to fly.

(Epel himself is a little miffed with all of the routines Vil made him keep up with after he joined Pomefiore, but will admit that he feels much better a lot of the time now that he's actually properly taking care of himself.)

[juancarlos-ortiz]

Marked for Carnage - Chapter 6 (Juice x OC Fic)

Marked for Carnage Masterlist

A/N: Chapter 6 is here! It's been literal months lol but here we are. Warning this chapter does contain talks of domestic violence, drug use and drug dealing. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4009 words

Ronnie huffed as she slammed her front door closed. Irritation coursed through her after Agent Stahl's little visit. Juice remained where he stood in the living room, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Got pretty shitty timing, huh?" he said. Ronnie laughed softly and shook her head. "Nah, don't worry about it. Clearly they don't have shit if they're pushing out to family members," she shrugged. She moved past him, their arms brushing lightly together, sending goosebumps across her skin. Ignoring the reaction, she opened her pantry and scoured for lunch items. Closing the doors she turned to Juice. "So, I don't have anything for lunch in the house. Not really much of a cook," she admitted, her skin feeling hot as the embarrassment washed over her. She was 28, wasn't she supposed to know how to at least cook a basic meal by now? Work and school has always been her priority, leading her to live off takeaways and microwave meals - she always tried to get servings of vegetables if she could.

Juice smiled and shrugged. "Wanna go to the supermarket and we can find something to make together?" he asked. She perked up, not expecting that suggestion. "Really?" she asked. He smiled, nodding. "Yeah. I'm no Gordon Ramsay but I can make a decent sandwich." 30 minutes later they dumped the grocery bags on her counter and began to unpack the ingredients. Fresh bread, different deli meats, lettuce and tomatoes as well as condiments other than ketchup were now lined up on the counter top. Juice began to slice into the loaf - he claimed that buying a fresh loaf whole and slicing it yourself was the secret ingredient to the perfect sandwich. Ronnie pulled out plates and laid out the slices as he handed them to her. She had never had this much fun in the making food before. Juice put her at ease so naturally. They laughed and poked fun at each other. Ronnie stood in front of the two plates with all of the ingredients now prepped in front of her ready to assemble the sandwich.

Suddenly, there was heat at her back as Juice stood behind her, crowding her against the bench. "Ok so, just start putting it together how you would like," he said, his breath moving over her ear gently. She held in a shudder. "How do you like it?" she asked, her eyes bulging as the words came out, the unintentional innuendo making her want the ground to swallow her up. Juice just laughed, the vibration reverberating through her back. "I'll show you how I like it, Ronnie," he said, making her stomach cartwheel. He leaned against her further as she watched him grab various elements to make his sandwich. She could only focus on his hands though, watching them move and flex, wondering how they would feel grasping her hips and ass… "Your turn," Juice said, snapping her out of her dirty thoughts. He from behind her to stand next to her, smirking as if he could hear every nasty little thing she was thinking.

She cleared her throat and began to make her own lunch, trying to remember the order he had picked things up. She topped it off with the other slice, smiling brightly at Juice. His heart skipped at the sight. "Looks good, rookie," he teased. They took their lunch to the living room and sat down, beginning to eat. "Oh my god," Ronnie said after the first bite. "That is really good bread." Juice nodded, smiling at her. "Told you." They finished their meals in silence, Juice leaning back and closing his eyes in satisfaction his hand on his stomach. Ronnie took the two plates back to the kitchen before rejoining him on the couch. "So," Juice started. "Wanna tell me why you need club protection?" he asked. Ronnie stilled and swallowed thickly. Her palms began to sweat a little and her heart rate picked up, squeezing her eyes shut just at the thought of Mark. Juice watched her intently, taken aback by her reaction.

"Hey," he said softly, moving over and resting a warm hand against her back. She couldn’t hold back her shudder this time, her senses in overload. "I'm sorry, you don’t have to tell me if you don't want," his voice was close to her face and she opened her eyes, finding him a lot closer to her now. She dropped her gaze, landing on his lips before bouncing back up to his eyes again. This happened twice more, Juice's hand moving from her back up to cup the side of her head, his fingers pushing into her hair. Ronnie closed her eyes again and slowly pulled herself back from him. "Friends!" she thought. "Nothing more than friends." Juice followed her lead and put a little space between them, smiling sheepishly and swallowing. "Sorry," he mumbled again. Ronnie just smiled. "It's ok. I wouldn't say its club protection, more like Piney being stubborn," she laughed, trying to be as casual as possible.

Juice waited for her to continue. "My ex lives in Charming," she explained. "He's pretty much the reason I left in the first place. He was always a bit of a douchebag but when I we started our senior year of high school he dropped out and started dealing. He used before, but I never judged," she shrugged, looking down at her hands. "But it was when he started dealing that things got bad. He was selling to underage kids you know. Like 13 year olds. I didn't like that, I said so and he hit me. And then after he had done it once it became his go to 'punishment' whenever I did or said something he didn’t like. Which was a lot." Juice's face twisted in disgust. Dealing to kids was already shitbag territory but smacking people around, especially the woman you’re in a relationship with? Juice was surprised Opie hadn't already buried this guy. "Your dad and brother just let this happen?" he asked, unclenching his jaw.

Ronnie shook her head. "They didn't know for the most part. Mark made sure the bruises were in places I could easily cover up. He knew who my family were, he didn't have a death wish completely. Opie wasn't around much anyway, spent all of his time with Jax when he ran away from Mom's and came back to Charming," she swallowed the lump in her throat. "One day though, Mark forgot about his own rules and landed one right here," she pointed to her lower lip and Juice could just make out the smallest scar that he hadn't noticed before. "Split my lip so bad I had no choice but to go to the ER," she shrugged, huffing out an unamused laugh. "Tried to get Jax to take me but he just told Opie and dad. Fuckin' snitch." Juice inhaled deeply, letting her finish. "Piney and Ope started threatening to do all sorts of shit and I just… I couldn't let them. Made them promise that they wouldn't touch him. He's scum but he's not worth 25 to life. Opie wanted to take it to the club but he was only Prospecting at the time and somehow I managed to get dad to agree to drop it. But still I just knew that unless I packed up and moved to a different state, I would never really be rid of him."

Ronnie sighed and leaned over, grabbing her glass of water and taking a large gulp. Sitting it back down she continued. "So yeah, I left and went to school. Started to make a life for myself, stopped looking over my shoulder. But paid the price of missing out on 10 years with my family. And then Opie got released and my dad started hounding me to come back. So I did, hoping that Mark had moved on or something. But," she sighed again pursing her lips. "But?" Juice said, his eyebrow cocked. If this fucker had hurt her again he'd be doing some digging later that night. Hell, even if he hadn’t he would probably still do a deep dive on the guy, find out anything he could to potentially ruin his life. "But he's still here. When I left work the other day he was parked in the lot. Called out to me and then followed me for a few blocks. Freaked me out at the time but honestly, the whole protection thing is probably overkill. I'm sure he knows by now that dad and Opie know. He would have to be really dumb to try something," she said.

"Sounds like a real jerk off," Juice said, trying not to show in his voice how riled up he had become. The idea of anyone, let alone some piece of shit, laying hands on Ronnie made him seethe. Leaning over he lightly grasped her chin, running his thumb gently over the scar on her lip. Her mouth parted slightly as her breath hitched. "Not gonna let him touch you ever again," he said sternly, his eyes trained on her mouth. She smiled softly. "I can handle myself Juice," she declared, amused at how this usually fun and goofy guy had gotten so serious so suddenly - and over her no less. He just nodded, pulling his hand back and smiling. "I know you can baby," he winked, sending her into internal tailspins. She rolled her eyes and flopped back on the couch. "Don't do that!" she exclaimed. He laughed and sat back next to her. "Do what?" he asked teasingly. "You know what. We're supposed to be friends here and you're making it extra hard." Avoiding the obvious dirty jokes Juice continued laughing. "What? I treat all of my friends this way," he said, smiling down at her. "Mhmm," she said. "You call the Prospect baby?" she taunted. He poked her in the side. "Prospect ain't my friend."

Ronnie huffed out a breath, trying to blow a piece of her hair out of her face that had come loose. It wasn't sweltering hot yet considering it was only 9 in the morning but the physical process of removing all of the remains from the soil plus the coroners windbreaker she was required to wear out on a job was making Ronnie sweat. "Ok, last one," her boss said, placing a final bone - an ulna to be precise - into the third body bag. Claire Richards had been the coroner at St Thomas for nearly a decade and was a no nonsense, no bullshit kind of person. Which Ronnie liked perfectly fine. After working under her for a short amount of time, Ronnie could easily say she had learnt more than she ever had at her previous assistant position. She was honest and firm but never a total asshole in her management style. "Alright lets get these back to St Thomas and start IDing," Claire said, zipping up the bag and pulling her gloves off.

Ronnie grunted, pushing the last gurney into the van before running around and getting into the passenger seat. "I hope you don't mind what I'm about to say next," Claire said, making Ronnie arch a brow. "There's a good chance those bodies back there are bikers," Claire said, jerking her thumb back to where the bones lay in the bodies. Ronnie turned her head back, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Is that an educated guess or are you just making assumptions?" she asked, trying to keep any annoyance out of her voice. She knew the club delved into dark shit from time to time but to straight up assume immediately that this was their fault seemed like a bit of a stretch. "Those bones are old," Claire explained. "Like 15 years old. You would know that back in the early 90s the Mayans and the Sons had a couple of years of straight up violence. A lot of blood was shed. You saw those bullet holes right?" Claire asked, referring to the wounds found on the skulls. Ronnie nodded, chewing her bottom lip.

"Three sets of remains, bullets to the head and all old enough to match up to the dates. I'd say those are either Sons or Mayans we have in our van today, Veronica." Ronnie tilted her head. "You’re not even from Charming, how do you know all of this?" she asked. Claire tapped her fingers against the steering wheel as they passed the 'Welcome to Charming' sign. "I'm a morbid person I guess. And I like history." Ronnie turned her head to look out the window. Her stomach was unsettled and she felt anxious. She was 12 when the SAMCRO-Mayan war had started. And she knew that the Sons hadn’t lost as many as the Mayans - those they had had been given funerals. No one ever went missing, so the chances of the bodies being Mayans were high. Ronnie just hoped there was nothing to tie the club, especially her father, to it.

Ronnie chewed the tip of her pen, not taking her eyes off the paperwork in her hands as she walked down the hallway towards the morgue. The rest of her morning had gone quite easily with all 3 of the remains having identifiers that made finding out who they were much easier than she and Claire had anticipated. She pushed through the double doors still reading over the papers in her hands. The sound of a low two toned whistle made her freeze. Crossing her fingers that one of the bodies in the freezers hadn't suddenly become reanimated she slowly turned around, half relieved half taken aback to see Jax, Clay and Tig all standing around an open freezer, the draw with one set of the bones pulled out. She smiled awkwardly. "Um, hi?" she said. The men turned to face her fully, Clay's eyes narrowing at her suspiciously as if she was the one doing something she shouldn't.

Ronnie noted the wrench in Tig's hands, their intentions suddenly becoming clear. "No point in doing that," she pointed to the tool. "They've already been IDed." The three men all looked at each other in confusion. Jax yanked open the freezer next to him, grabbing the tag and reading it. His face dropped and looked up at Clay and Tig. Ronnie was rooted on the spot, unsure if she should be telling them to leave, leaving herself or - stupidly - standing guard at the door so all 4 of them wouldn’t be caught. "Lowell Harland Senior," Jax said, his voice low and cold. "This is Lowell's old man," he continued. Ronnie cleared her throat, getting the attention of the three of them. "I'm just gonna," she pointed towards the door and spun on her heel attempting to flee. "Veronica," Clay's voice had her pausing. Turning slowly, she looked at him. "Yeah?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"This ain't gonna be a problem, is it?" Clay motioned towards the opened drawers. Ronnie swallowed. She was pretty certain Clay would never actually hurt her but she knew that he was the kind of guy who wouldn't stop at anything to get his own way. She shook her head rapidly. "No, of course not." Clay nodded at her once. "Good girl." She smiled and fled the room, her skin crawling at his praise. She had never had a problem with Clay but she didn't find him to be as kind and approachable as John Teller. Turning the corner she leant against the wall, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. Why the hell would Lowell Sr be tossed into an unmarked grave with Mayans? Mayans she was now certain had been put there by the Sons. Ronnie wasn't sure but she sure as shit didn't want to know more than she needed to.

Ronnie grinned as she hopped out of her car in her driveway, waving at Juice who was sat on his bike parked at the curb. "Man, am I glad to see you," she huffed out, her skin flushing at her sudden confession. Juice cocked an eyebrow. "Are you now?" he asked, strolling towards her and stopping only inches away. She nodded, smiling sweetly at him. "Rough day?" he asked. She huffed a breath. "You have no idea." She walked up the path and let them both into the house. "There's this thing on at the boxing ring this afternoon. You wanna come? Just as friends," Juice shrugged. Ronnie laughed softly. "Yeah ok. Fights?" she asked. "Bare fist boxing," he nodded. "Okay, let me get ready and lets go."

Ronnie smiled as Juice held his hand out to her, helping her get off his bike behind him. He pulled his helmet off and swung his leg over, standing up next to her. She stood and waited for him to help her take her own off, shivering a little as his knuckles brushed against the skin of her neck and chin. "You got family who ride and you can't even work your own helmet," he tsked, shaking his head teasingly. She softly drove her fist into his stomach in a light punch. "Those things are death traps," she pointed to his bike. "I hate going on them." Juice frowned. "You've never said anything to me," he murmured. Ronnie avoided his stare, smiling timidly. "Well I don't really mind it when it's your bike," she admitted. Juice grinned like a fool and threw his arm over her shoulders, guiding her towards the building.

Once they were inside they found a seat on one of the amphitheatre seats. They watched on as Half-Sack seemed to drop opponent after opponent. Tig, Bobby and Chibs, who Ronnie had yet to formally meet yet, were in his corner, yelling out advice - some helpful, some ludicrous. "I'm gonna go get a beer, you want anything?" Juice asked her. She nodded, reaching for her wallet but he grabbed her wrist. "I got you," he winked and turned to leave. Ronnie smiled, watching him leave. Suddenly, someone sat themselves in the seat next to her. It was a young woman, with reddish brown hair and a nasty cut across her nose with bruising around her eyes. She smiled at Ronnie. "You hittin' that?" she asked, pointing at Juice. "Excuse me?" Ronnie asked, furrowing her brow. "You his Ol' Lady?" the girl asked again, her eyebrow raised.

Ronnie scoffed and shook her head. "No, we're just friends. Why? You tryna hit that?" Ronnie asked, hoping she didn't sound as jealous as she felt. She and Juice were friends. He was a grown man with wants and needs, of course he could do what he liked with whomever he liked. But Ronnie couldn’t help the souring feeling in her stomach at the thought of him touching someone else. The girl laughed and shook her head. "Nah. He's mine," she pointed towards the ring and Ronnie's eyes widened. "The Prospect?" she asked. The girl smiled proudly and nodded. "I'm Cherry by the way," she held her hand out to Ronnie who took it and shook firmly. "Ronnie." Cherry turned back to face the match. "What happened to your face?" Ronnie asked.

Cherry turned to look at her with an amused expression. "A little forward, don't ya think?" she smirked. Ronnie shrugged. "No real way of asking politely is there?" Cherry frowned. "Yeah I guess not." Ronnie blinked and looked towards the match where Half-Sack was pummelling a man surely half to death. "The Prospect didn’t do that, did he?" she asked. Cherry shook her head. "Nah, Kip ain't like that. At least not with me," she motioned towards her battered nose. "Took a skateboard to the face." Ronnie's jaw hung open. "How the hell did that happen?" she asked. "Presidents Ol' Lady swung it at me," Cherry clarified. Ronnie sat back bewildered. "Gemma?" she was puzzled. She knew what the woman could be like when something pissed her off but a skateboard to the face? Seemed a little excessive.

"Yeah well, what happened on a run didn’t exactly stay on the run and I had to pay the price," Cherry shrugged. Juice came back with their beers, handing one to Ronnie. "Hey Cherry," he smiled at her. Cherry grinned back, her eyes darting between Ronnie and Juice. "Hey Juice. Pretty little friend you've brought along tonight," she jutted her chin towards Ronnie who tsked in slight embarrassment. Juice just nodded. "She is, isn’t she?" he nudged her gently with his elbow. Ronnie avoided his stare and watched the fight. Half-Sack was back in the corner being spoken to by Tig and Chibs. Suddenly, Clay appeared before them, giving Ronnie a fright, her smile slipping as she remembered what had happened earlier that day. He just smiled tightly at them both before moving to sit on the other side of Cherry.

"He's not gonna do it," Juice mumbled under his breath. "Huh?" Ronnie asked. Juice leant his head towards her so he could explain quietly, but nearly all of Ronnie's concentration left her head when the combination of his cologne and the leather scent of his cut washed over her. "Prospect is meant to be throwing this fight. But the little shit has too much pride I reckon," he explained, the low volume of his voice making it sound raspier, sending goosebumps skittering over Ronnie's skin and skimming up her spine. She nodded, knowing her numb tongue couldn't do its job right now. The fight started back up and Ronnie could vaguely tell that Clay and Cherry were talking. The Prospect was seeming to tire out and slow down, his opponent getting some good jabs in. Suddenly Cherry reared back before throwing her arms around Clay and kissing his cheek.

"Oh shit," was all Juice said as they saw Half-Sack zero in on what was happening before his rage began to refuel him and he started throwing punch after punch. Ronnie and Juice both winced as the guy got completely pummelled, Tig and Chibs racing into the ring to pull the Prospect off him. Ronnie and Juice recounted it later, laughing as walked up the driveway to her front door. "That guy is going to need some serious healing time," Ronnie said as she pushed her keys into the lock. Before she could open the door Juice grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards him, standing her in front of him. She looked up at him, confused. Juice leant in, making her gasp softly. His lips landed on her cheek, the corner of his mouth just meeting hers. He pulled away, delighted at the shock on her face and the sparkle in her eye.

He couldn’t help himself, he just wanted to touch her all over, and mark her as his. But they had decided on being friends for the time being so this would be as far as it goes. For now. "I really had fun with you tonight," he beamed, rocking back on his heels with his hands now planted in his pockets. "Me too," Ronnie hummed. "We should hang out more often. I mean, you’re at my place all the time anyway but it was fun to get out," she stammered, trying not to word vomit completely. Juice nodded, stepping around her to open the door. "I'm gonna head to bed, but there's beers and stuff in the fridge if you want. You're probably missing out on some club party just to come babysit me, huh?" she gibed. Juice just shrugged, his lips pursed. "I really don't mind. It's nice to be out of the clubhouse for a while. It's always so loud and crowded there." Ronnie nodded, smiling tightly. "Ok well, goodnight Juice," she wrung her hands together. "G'night Ronnie," he smiled, taking a seat on the couch. Ronnie walked to her room and closed the door leaning back against it, her hand ghosting over the skin he had kissed. Yeah, sure. Just friends.

[pocketvenuslux]

I'm doing another lingerie history throwback post, this time about the short lived diffusion line, L'Agent by Agent Provocateur.

L'Agent launched in 2013, when diffusion lines for luxury labels had become the norm in the fashion industry. These younger sibling brands offered goods at more accessible - though still expensive! -price points that allowed luxury brands to court aspirational shoppers without damaging the perception of exclusivity for their main lines. L'Agent followed this same strategy, with prices that were roughly 50% cheaper than AP.

Although many diffusion lines were eventually phased out, I think there were other reasons for L'Agent's doomed history, including the fact that it was such a latecomer to the diffusion game. Most popular diffusion lines at the time had launched more than a decade earlier and at this point, were considering shuttering operations. D&G closed in 2011, Marc by Marc Jacobs in 2015, Burberry Brit in 2016. While diffusion lines allowed luxury brands to build a larger, younger customer base, they also demanded more administrative and marketing resources and for many brands, they failed to differentiate themselves enough from main lines, dragging down that perceived luxury prestige.

Which brings me to my next point. A number of L'Agent's designs were clearly reworked versions of AP's designs. Obviously they were not exactly the same and the materials were different - but the latter is not something you can really appreciate when you're shopping online. Although AP digitally isolated L'Agent into an entirely different website, which it did not do with Soirée*, I feel its own designs were so distinctive, that didn't matter. At certain angles, I can't even tell the difference between L'Agent's Danita and AP's classic, Nikita.

While L'Agent was meant to be more youthful than AP, its early collections, especially the sets that did not crib from beloved AP designs, lacked a strong, cohesive voice. Despite this, L'Agent expanded rapidly, opening its own stores with what must have been a considerable outlay of capital. Here's an image of L'Agent's fourth store, which opened in Montreal in 2015.

Honestly, this Victoria's Secret-esque retail environment, nothing like the lush, boudoir-vibes of AP boutiques and their shop girls in their pink Westwood uniforms, strikes me as less fun and cheeky and more cheap and tacky - which is a shame because their lingerie was much better than what you could pick up at a VS.

While I didn't feel compelled to purchase a L'Agent set, I did pick up a pair of Idalia knickers for prosperity's sake. You can see the top photo of this post for the whole set. The panty has a number of costlier details such as picot edging, hidden seams, i.e. no gusset "pocket", and a two-toned lace. The stitches on the narrow elastics are actually three-point zigzags so they're tiny. However, the materials are a huge step down from AP. The lace feels stiffer and rougher and while the picot is cute, it irritates my skin a little.

You can still see many examples of other L'Agent sets online. I'll link to a few examples below.

Screenshots of the original website provided by its design agency

2013

SS 2014

AW 2014

AW 2015

SS 2016

AW 2016

SS 2017

In contrast to L'Agent, diffusion lines that were more successful were those that meaningfully created a "conversation" with the main line while having its own distinct voice. For example, I could always recognize a McQ piece, even if it was more editorial. They often repurposed elements you'd see on the Alexander McQueen runway into more streamlined, streetwear inspired pieces such that you'd never mistake a McQ piece for an Alexander McQueen RTW piece. McQ persisted through the 2010s and it was only in 2022 that the line was "suspended."

In addition to struggling to find its own voice, financial troubles at AP, which would eventually lead to the company's bankruptcy, proved to be the final nail in L'Agent's coffin. By late 2016, AP announced that it would be downsizing both stores and staff at its headquarters by a brutal 30% and L'Agent was definitely in the cross-hairs. L'Agent bit the dust the following year - it held a final sale for the 2017 post-holiday season and by February 2018, it was all over.

Despite this, I feel like L'Agent lives on. Current AP lines like Fia, Laily, Whinette and Yara all have a L'Agent vibe to me. Which is to say, the luxurious details I associated with older AP sets have increased in price at AP while L'Agent-ish sets that have simpler designs and cheaper materials have created a lower tier to AP's lingerie without actually being cheaper than the cheapest AP sets back in the day. In this way, the inflation of AP's prices are better hidden from the consumer. Can you tell from the photos below which model is wearing L'Agent and which is wearing AP's Fia?

In 2021, AP tried its hand again at the diffusion game with its "All Hours" line. This one was much shorter lived and you can read an analysis about its failure on The Lingerie Addict. Only the Lucky line survives in an "Anytime" collection.

Interestingly enough, in 2024, we are starting to see the return of the diffusion line. Society has not emerged from the pandemic unscathed and the cost of living crisis as well as punitive measures against workers have crushed the spending power of aspirational shoppers. Meanwhile, capitalists have only gotten richer. As a result, prices in the luxury sector have rocketed skyward as brands zero in on their rosters of VICs (Very Important Clients) with specialized services and double down on exclusivity. But it seems like younger brands like Aries, that may lack the rolodex and capital of more established houses, are once again, returning to the diffusion line while older lines like Comme des Garcons' Play appear to be selling well.

Personally, I'm not sure if we'll ever see a diffusion line from AP again. Because AP's brand is already youthful, playful and cheeky and no one wants expensive basics from a brand like AP, there is nowhere for an AP diffusion line to go. But the fallout of the decimation of the middle class is still playing out. And we will see if AP has what it takes to respond to this tread of increasing income inequality and financial precarity.

* While brands were launching diffusion lines, some also launched higher-tier "demi-couture" lines like Burberry Prorsum that featured more expensive and experimental materials and fashion forward, editorial designs - AP pursued this tactic as well with its Soirée line which launched earlier than L'Agent in 2009.

[lyndaris]

OC rambles:

Thinking about what Ophelia/Alec would be like as a companion in ESO.

About/Meet the Character:

“Alec, former agent of the Dominion. Supposedly a trusted Eye of the Queen as well, but that is just one of many rumors of that Mer…

Her appearance is unmistakable, being so short for a dunmer and the jagged scar that crosses her left cheek to the bridge of her nose. Those golden yellow eyes as sharp as her daggers… not to mention her gothic style of armor and that war paint. Does she ever wear any color?

Never mind, that’s not important. Anyways, she has said she’s an Ashlander of Vvardenfell but the natives claim to not know anything or refuse to speak to any outsiders in general. Some revere her, they call her a hero of the Ashlands. Most dark elves of the Houses despise her, even uttering her name will get you kicked out of a building. Or a city. Especially around the Tribunal temples.

There is little known about her, most is speculation or rumors. Some even dramatic as calling her a secret demiprince to the Prince Boethiah..! What we do know is she’s not an approachable person. Do not engage with her, don’t even look at her wrong or she might just slit your throat. I heard she’s been wanted for a number of crimes, mass murder. Arson. Defiling Shrines and Temples…

…potential criminal records aside. She is mostly known for being an antisocial mercenary these days. Who is very picky about the jobs she accepts so. Have fun and don’t turn your back on her. Might be your last mistake..!”

Character quest line:

Alec needs help in making peace with her past, which involves seeking out knowledge of the Good Daedra. Specifically, Boethiah. The Prince her parents worshiped. As well as shutting down the rumor of being a demiprince.

As she travels around and grows close with a companion, they have to visit places in Vvardenfell to learn and understand the Good Daedra and their followers.

Finally facing the Prince of Plots to shut down the famous rumor and she can also confront the Prince as she blames them for the loss of her parents. A bittersweet ending where Alec has lived up to the Prince of Plots teachings, a living legacy of her parents, learning they are at peace and reside in the Prince’s realm after their glorious deaths in battle.

Racial Skill: Decreases ability cooldown 3% and increases damage done by 3%.

Companion Perk: Alec’s Sight - See through the shadows and expose an invisible enemy so they can’t hide/escape. Enemies exposed cannot go invisible again for 10 seconds.

Default gear: medium armor and daggers,

Style: Ancient Daedric

Default mount: Midnight Steed, named “Shadow”

Rapport Status:

Positives

Cordial: Alec tolerates you.

Friendly: Alec thinks you’re a competent companion.

Close: Alec is glad you two met.

Allied: Alec would rather travel with you than alone.

Companion: Alec trusts you, one of few she can count on.

Negatives:

Wary: Alec is unsure about you.

Irritated: Alec wonders why she still bothers working with you.

Disdain: Alec wishes she never met you.

Negative rapport:

-25, taking her near the Tribunal or their Temples:

• “Really? You take an ashlander near a false god/Tribunal temple?”

• “next time, leave me out of Tribunal business.“

• “I question your decision to speak with that false god…”

• “I will defile their shrine/altar, I hope you know that.”

-5 - 10, intimidating merchants to pay gold / stealing kid’s toys / wearing Ordinator/Hand of Almalexia costumes:

• “why don’t you get your gold from a bandit, or a cultist instead?”

• “Merchants are making a living too, y’know.”

• “do you feel real tough? Threatening a civilian for a few gold?”

- “how heartless are you to steal from children?”

- “so you’re that kind of thief, huh?”

- “there are better things to steal…”

+ “I should kill you for wearing that around me.”

+ “this some kind of sick joke to you?”

+ “you are aware my people get killed by those House/Tribunal dogs, right?”

-1, getting a bounty/paying a guard, traveling to Coldharbour:

• “this is what happens when you get caught.”

• “you might as well have announced that you’re committing a crime.”

• “next time, watch for guards/witnesses.”

“Ugh, why are we here?”

“I hated it the first time I was here...”

“I should just leave you alone here.”

Positive Rapport:

+25 - 125, going near shrines to the Good Daedra, speaking to Azura & Mephala:

• “I may not pray to the Good Daedra, but I always pay my respects at their shrines.”

• “Do not believe all Daedra are evil, some view them as teachers. Like myself.”

• “Give me a moment, yeah? I want to think of my family while we’re here.”

- “Lady Azura, and all her beautiful glory actually spoke to us. May the Mother of the Rose guide us.”

- “My mother loved Lady Azura, as much as she prayed to Lord Boethiah…”

- “The Lady of Twilight among us…Do you feel overwhelmed? No? Just me? Huh.”

+ “Lady Mephala… bless us with shadows.”

+ “Do you feel like murdering someone in her name? Maybe we could gain her favor…”

+ “Did you mention me to her? Give a good word? Please tell me you didn’t embarrass us-“

+5 - 10, crafting dunmeri/ashlander foods & drinks, visiting Vvardenfell tribe camps, completing Ashlander dailies:

- “reminds me of what my mother used to make…”

- “we going to eat/drink that… or?”

- “if you need someone to sample that, I’m more than willing to.. give feedback.”

• “would you mind if we stay a few minutes? I just… want to imagine what it’s like having a tribe again.”

• “I wish I still had my tribe… exiled or not, they were my family.”

• “being a Clanfriend is bittersweet, getting to visit the tribes camps but never having my own to return to.”

+ “I appreciate you helping my people. Truly.”

+ “Even if it doesn’t mean something to you, it means something to me that you’re helping these Ashlanders. Thank you.”

+ “You’re proving to be a good Clanfriend. Maybe we can make a difference here together.”

Greetings:

Cordial, Friendly- “hm?” “Yeah?” “What do you need?”

Close, Allied, Companion- “Problem, Sera?” “Change of plans?” “You have my attention.” “Feeling chatty?”

Wary, Disdain- “what?” “Yes, s’wit?” “What now?” “Unless it’s getting us paid, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Tell me something about yourself.”:

• “Vvardenfell is my homeland, no matter how many locals claim me to be an outsider… I still visit the tribes camps when I can.”

• “Daggers are my preferred choice of weapons, but I have spent time learning to wield other weapons too. Expand my knowledge and skills, train myself to be better.”

• “I lost my parents to Tribunal fanatics, and when I demanded justice I got turned away. Those false gods only care about themselves, their false godhood. I want nothing to do with them or their people.”

• “I pray to no divine or Daedric Prince. I have no connections to anyone, anywhere. I prefer to stay neutral, I hate picking sides.”

• “Murder, assassination, deceit, lies… all a part of me. What my parents and mentor taught me. I don’t care if you decide to stick a dagger into someone because you feel like it. Just don’t get caught.”

• “I admit, I proudly worked for Queen Ayrenn and her Dominion… when I was exiled from Vvardenfell and ended up in Auridon, Her Grace took a gamble with me. She didn’t have to trust an outlander, but she did. I owed her a debt.”

• “I don’t like alcoholic beverages, feeling drunk has never been a good experience for me. Feeling out of control… if you need a drinking buddy, ask someone else.”

• “Not that I assume you have heard the nonsense, but in case you have… No, I am not a demiprince. I am mortal, just like you. The tale spoken of me is greatly exaggerated and false.”

[crguang]

sweet reliable women 🥺 i'm excited to meet her!

if you had to pick your favourite 3 hsr and genshin women, who would they be and why? i think i could take a crack at guessing two of the star rail women you'll pick, hah

-💙

GSHDHSJSJFJF im unfortunately very predictable…. and my type is so obvious😭

for genshin my favourites are:

- ningguang. we go years back her and i, i love women in high positions of power who have to put on a performance for the world and have a softer, hidden side to them. i admire her composure, strength and the fact that she can navigate any social situation… people have a lot of misconceptions of her because of her ambitions but she’s a good person who knows when to be ruthless and i love her lots for it

- yelan. my little adrenaline junkie… shes just so fun?! she hides behind so many disguises, lies as she breathes, is a masochist and a secret intelligence agent. they made her for ME!!! her and ning are canonically partners in crime, she’s part of the reason why ning is the tianquan and is her most trusted friend. plus she’s sexy and smart and i need her in my bed

- arlecchino. my type to a T, she fits all of my attraction criteria— powerful, diplomatic, astute and sexy with a side of her no one really gets to see. she genuinely cares for her children despite her upbringing, wants to bring a change to the way the house of the hearth functions, is a little weird and off-putting… i love that its unexpected for her to be so chill because shes so intimidating 😭 like wym the 4th fatui harbinger loves watching insects in the wild and having barbecues with her kids

my fav hsr women are (unsurprisingly):

- kafka… KAFKAAAAA what an annoying, irritating, lying little shit im obsessed with her. i initially thought she was going to be a little like yelan (she kinda is… they’d get along fast) but she’s just an arrogant little shit who lies for fun. she’s cocky and confident and the worst part is that her bite matches her bark. i cannottt help but be attracted to her, she’s a jack of all trades and it makes her deliciously unpredictable. PLUS they made her a violin player!!!!! thats my favourite musical instrument!!!!! i listen to classical music every day. her design is also one of my favourites— i love that she’s completely covered and still the sexiest character in the game. people went insane just seeing her SHOULDERS, like we all turned into Victorian men catching a glimpse of a woman’s calves for the first time when she took off her coat😭

- black swannnnnn❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ just stunning. no notes. 10/10 design. that suave personality and charm makes me melt and every time she comes on screen so do i— i mean… i find memokeepers in general very interesting, but what’s better is that since they forego their mortal bodies and become memetic entities, they don’t really have human emotions other than what’s felt through people’s memories. but black swan does, a little; that primal fear she feels in acheron’s memories, her preference for warm, wistful memories… it’s just so interesting. i also love how consistent and transparent she is, some memokeepers steal or erase memories but she doesnt. she has morals (aesthetics of memory, as she says) and she sticks to them until the last resort. she’s supposed to be inherently objective, and she isn’t. i love that a lot. also, because shes very good at what she does her presence is so reassuring, her smooth, low voice just adds to the feeling i need her to hum me to sleep

- JINGLIU. that voice alone gets her in my top 5 but her LORE… the fact that she’s doomed by the narrative???? that she pushes past her limits, rises when she should have fallen, out of spite and hatred to fight her own inevitable end???????? incredible. she’s above material things and immaterial concepts like status and fame because she only lives for one thing: to kill a god. and as she pursues her goal, she becomes a little like them, indifferent and ruthless. she’s a woman who’s lost everything and who refuses to lose her mind despite it being inevitable. her will is incredible. i love her design (tho she shouldve been wearing pants or actual armor😒) the moon is my favourite entity and she embodies it. i’m one of those people who go “omg look at the moon” every night, they made her for meeee

[newly-edgy-anon]

I just wanna go back home

Logan has a migraine during school and has to get driven home by his grandma.

"You're just in time," the teacher called out to Logan Fields, her voice echoing through the empty hallway. "Take a seat."

Logan, a lanky fourteen-year-old with shaggy brown hair, grunted a response as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. The bell had rung only moments ago, but he felt like he'd been running for hours. He stumbled into the classroom, the weight of his unspoken truth pressing down on him like a heavy fog. The last thing he needed was to be late, but the migraines had started again. They had become a cruel, unwelcome guest in his life, turning his mornings into a battleground of pain and nausea. He took his seat in the back, hoping the dim light wouldn't make his headache worse.

"So, Logan," Miss Harris said, peering over her glasses, "are you ready for the science quiz today?"

Logan nodded, his hand reflexively touching his forehead. "Yeah, I studied," he lied, trying to keep his voice steady. He hadn't studied. Not really. Not with the migraines keeping him up half the night, leaving him drained and dizzy. The words on the pages had swirled together like a tornado, and the numbers looked like a secret code he hadn't cracked.

The classroom chatter grew faint as his vision narrowed, the edges of the room blurring into a watercolor painting. He felt the throb in his temple intensify. The migraines had been happening more often lately, and no matter how much he tried to ignore them, they had a way of consuming his thoughts. He'd been to the doctor, but the tests came back normal. "It's just stress," they said. But how could that be? He was just a kid trying to get through the school year, not some kind of secret agent dodging bullets and solving world crises.

As Miss Harris began to lecture about the life cycle of a fern, Logan's thoughts drifted to his bed. It was his fortress, the one place where he could hide from the world when the migraines took over. The soft, cool pillows whispered sweet nothings to him, promising relief if he'd just close his eyes. The darkness was his sanctuary, a silent reprieve from the world's relentless cacophony. He wished he could be there now, curled up in the safety of his bedroom, with nothing but the sound of his own shallow breathing to keep him company. But instead, he was here, trapped in the fluorescent hell of his classroom.

The pain grew, each heartbeat a drum echoing in his skull. He clenched his jaw, willing the throb to subside, but it only grew stronger. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as the room started to spin. It was happening again. He had to get out of here.

"Miss Harris," he croaked, raising his hand, "I don't feel so good."

Her eyes scanned the room before landing on him, a mix of sympathy and irritation playing on her face. She sighed. "Go to the nurse's office, Logan. Get yourself checked out."

With a nod, he gathered his things and shuffled out of the room, the migraine leading the way like a malevolent guide through the gauntlet of staring eyes and hushed whispers. He knew what they were thinking: "Not again." But they didn't understand. They couldn't.

The nurse's office was a small oasis of calm, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. The smell of antiseptic wafted through the air, and the walls were a soothing shade of blue that seemed to pulse in time with his headache. Mrs. Jenkins, the school nurse, looked up from her paperwork as he stumbled in.

"Logan," she said, her voice gentle, "What's going on today?"

"Migraine," he managed to spit out, collapsing onto the nearest chair. The room was spinning now, the edges of his vision turning into a kaleidoscope of colors that didn't belong. "It's bad."

Mrs. Jenkins nodded knowingly, her eyes filled with understanding. She'd seen this before. She rummaged through her desk and handed him a small white pill. "Take this. It'll help with the pain," she said, her voice soothing. "Lie down on the bed and try to relax. I'll let your grandma know."

Logan swallowed the pill with a gulp of water from the plastic cup she offered and gratefully collapsed onto the narrow cot, his backpack thumping against the floor. The pillow felt heavenly against his throbbing forehead as he closed his eyes and wished for the migraine to recede. The nurse's office was cool, the air-conditioning a gentle whisper in the background, and the pill was already starting to work its magic. The colors in his vision were fading back into the real world, and the pain was beginning to dull to a tolerable level.

His thoughts drifted to his grandmother, who would be at work, her worried face appearing on his phone screen in a few moments. She'd rush over, her eyes full of concern, and she'd ask if he needed anything. But what could she do? No one could fight this invisible enemy for him. He was on his own in this battle, armed with nothing but painkillers and darkness.

The minutes ticked by, the clock's second hand sounding like a drum in the quiet room. The pill was working, but the migraine was a stubborn beast. It hovered, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to pounce if he made a wrong move. Logan tried to focus on his breathing, in and out, slow and steady. The world outside the office grew fuzzy, and he found himself drifting in and out of consciousness, the pain a distant echo.

The door creaked open, and Mrs. Jenkins stepped in, a worried look etched on her face. "Logan," she said softly, "your grandma's on her way. She'll be here soon."

He nodded, not opening his eyes. "Thanks," he murmured.

The wait felt like an eternity, his body taut with anticipation for the sweet relief that came with his mother's embrace. Finally, he heard the familiar footsteps, the click of her heels on the linoleum floor, and the gentle rustle of her skirt. "Logan," she called, her voice tight with concern.

"Grandma," he said, his voice a mere whisper. The pill had taken the edge off, but the migraine still clung to him like a stubborn fog. She was there, a warm presence beside him, her hand stroking his hair. It was all he needed to keep fighting, to push through the pain.

"It's okay," she murmured, her voice a lullaby that soothed his aching soul. "We'll go home, and you can rest."

As she helped him sit up, the world spun around him again, the migraine not quite ready to let go. But with his mother by his side, he found the strength to stand, to walk through the school, the migraine's grip loosening with every step. The sun was too bright, the air too fresh, but he knew that soon, he'd be back in his bed, the darkness swallowing him up, and for a little while, the pain would be nothing but a distant memory.

And yet, as they made their way to the car, a tiny seed of fear took root in the back of his mind. What if the next migraine was worse? What if they never went away? The thought was too much to bear, so he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the comforting weight of his grandmother's arm around his shoulders, guiding him through the storm. For now, that was all that mattered.

At home, the cool darkness of his room washed over him like a balm. He collapsed onto his bed, the sheets still crumpled from the morning's hasty departure. The quiet was a stark contrast to the school's constant hum, and he sighed in relief as his mother pulled the curtains shut, blocking out the last of the sun's harsh glare.

"Water?" she asked, her voice a gentle murmur that didn't pierce the bubble of silence he'd built around himself.

"Yes, please," he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. The migraine was still there, a dull throb that pulsed in time with his heart. But it was manageable now, a bearable weight that didn't threaten to crush him.

As she left to get the water, he heard the faint buzz of his phone. With a grimace, he reached over and turned it off. Text messages and notifications could wait. For now, he needed the sanctuary of silence, the quiet that allowed him to battle the pain without interruption.

When she returned, she placed the cold glass on his bedside table and sat on the edge of his bed, her hand lightly resting on his back. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he lied again, not wanting to worry her any more than he already had. "I just need to rest."

"Okay," she said, her voice filled with doubt. "But if it gets worse, or if you need anything, just call for me."

He nodded, his eyes already slipping shut. The pill was pulling him under, the promise of relief beckoning like a siren's call. As his mother left the room, closing the door with a soft click, he felt the last of the tension drain from his body. He was safe, for now.

The migraines had become a part of him, an unwanted piece of his identity that he couldn't escape. They stole his nights and his days, leaving him feeling like a shadow of himself. But in the quiet darkness of his room, with the pillow enveloping him in a cocoon of coolness, he found a semblance of peace. A temporary reprieve from the world that waited outside his door.

And as he drifted off to sleep, the migraine's grip loosened, allowing him to sink into the oblivion he so desperately needed. For a few precious hours, he could be just Logan again, not the boy with the unexplained pain. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting his room into an even deeper shade of blue, he knew the battle wasn't over. The migraines would be back, ready to claim another piece of him. But for now, he had a brief respite. And in the quiet of his room, he held onto that small victory, clutching it tightly as he slipped away into a fitful sleep, dreaming of a world without pain.

Word count: 1,731

[captainsophiestark]

How Not To Impress Your Future Inlaws

Jack Thompson x Reader

Masterlist - Taglist

Requested by Anon! Hope you like it and thanks for being patient!

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Jack Thompson and Y/N are undercover at a gala, looking for Vernon Masters. He's not there, but they might just find someone (or two someones) worse, especially since Y/N has a giant secret crush on Jack Thompson and is in the middle of pretending to be his girlfriend for their jobs.

Word Count: 3,492

Category: Fluff, little bit of angst?

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed dreamily as I stared up into the eyes of none other than Jack Thompson, Chief of the New York SSR and my boss. His arms wrapped securely around my waist as we swayed back and forth together on the dance floor, taking in the soft music and blocking out everything in the world around us as we got completely lost in each other.

Or at least, that's what we wanted everyone around us to think.

The illusion was slightly ruined for Jack and I who could hear Peggy and Daniel's voices crackling over the comms in our ears. We were currently in the middle of an undercover operation for the SSR at a fancy gala event, and Jack and I were pretending to be happily dating, in love, run of the mill civilians.

"Can you see anyone we've tied to Vernon Masters?" demanded Peggy, her voice crackling over the comm device. Jack leaned in like he was whispering something in my ear, using it as cover to respond to Peggy.

"For the fifth time, Marge, no. He's not here and neither are his cronies."

I heard Peggy's huff of irritation on the other end of line (for Jack's nickname for her as much as for the fact we'd come to a mission dead end), but I couldn't entirely focus on it with Jack so close to me like this.

I'd had a crush on him for a while now, one which had only grown as he'd become a better person who trusted me and Peggy as agents and chose the right side over the side that got him power and recognition. Now, I was borderline pining for him, to the point that both Peggy and Daniel had noticed and individually called me on it. I'd given them both hell while they were mooning over each other and doing nothing about it for the better part of two years, though, so I guess I was due some payback.

Still, in this moment, it was more than a little inconvenient. Even though it seemed pretty clear that Vernon Masters and his cronies weren't here, and that we'd somehow been led on a wild goose chase, I'd learned over and over again that getting distracted for even a second on the simplest of missions could get you killed.

Jack's hands suddenly tightened around my waist and his whole body tensed even as he continued to look over my shoulder, and I got the distinct feeling that I might be about to re-learn that lesson yet again.

"Jack? What is it?" I asked, leaning in to whisper in his ear and trying to keep up a calm facade. Peggy and Daniel couldn't see Jack's face, but they could tell from the tone in my voice that something was wrong.

"Is it Masters?" asked Daniel over the comms.

"No," Jack ground out, sounding like it was something far, far worse than Vernon Masters. "He's not here, and we need to bail out of this mission right now."

"Why?" I asked, jumping in before Peggy or Daniel could. I tried to turn us on the dance floor so I could catch sight of whatever he was looking at, but he whirled me away further into the crowd before I could. I pulled back and away from him just enough to look him in the eye. "Jack, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. But our cover's at high risk of getting blown if we don't leave, so we need to go."

I raised an eyebrow, and I heard Peggy and Daniel start protesting and asking questions over the comms. Jack seemed seriously stressed though, so after making one last scan of the room to make sure I really didn't see anything to do with Vernon Masters (or Dottie Underwood, or any of our many other enemies), I snagged Jack's comm-disguised-as-an-ascot out of his jacket pocket and stuffed it into my handbag.

"We're on our way out shortly, stand by," I said to Peggy and Daniel, then gave the flower pinned to my dress the same treatment as Jack's secret comm device. Once we had a little bit of privacy from our friends, I grabbed Jack's arm and met his eyes. "Jack, what's going on? I'm your partner, at least for this mission, and your friend. You can tell me."

He sighed heavily through his nose, his eyes darting up to scan the room again before at last landing back on me. He seemed to be debating something mentally, then finally, I saw his jaw lock and determination come into his eyes.

"My parents just walked into the room."

I couldn't stop my mouth from dropping open and my eyes going wide. Jack almost never talked about his parents, so the little I knew came from conversations about highly-connected people who, in some way or another, knew the Thompsons. Now, they were in the same room as us while I was pretending to be Jack's very serious long-term girlfriend.

"Yeah, that look on your face? That's exactly why we need to go," he said, taking my hand in his and at last leading me off the dancefloor. "Masters obviously isn't here anyway, so-"

"Jack!"

Jack's grip on my hand tightened and I saw him grimace as a voice called from behind us. His shoulders tensed, and I swore I could see him mentally calculating whether it'd be worth it to ignore his mother's voice and just run for the door. Apparently he decided the answer was no, because after another second he turned around, a ridiculously fake smile plastered to his face. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me tighter to his side as we faced his parents, so apparently we were going to try to keep up our covers as long as possible.

"Mom. Dad." His voice was as strained as his smile, and I kept sneaking looks at the pained expression on his face as his parents made their way over to us.

Jack definitely had the family resemblance, although his father's hair had grayed and the lines of his face were a little harsher. His mother had darker brunette hair, but there was no doubt Jack had her eyes and mouth.

Although, after two seconds of watching Jack's father stand with his shoulders back and his chin high as he surveyed us, it didn't take me long to see where Jack got some of his more irritating traits.

"We didn't know you were going to be here," said his dad, not bothering to say hi as he looked us up and down again.

"Likewise, Dad."

"So, who's this?" asked his mom, looking to me with a slightly reserved smile as she broke the tension. I couldn't tell if she actually wanted to know, or if she just wanted to change the subject.

"This is Y/N," said Jack, hesitating for half a second before he continued. "My girlfriend."

I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't leap in my chest at his words. I tried not to let it show in my expression, but I wasn't sure I'd been totally convincing.

"I see," said his mother, a polite smile forced onto her face. My stomach sank as I realized she wasn't particularly happy with this situation, and fell even farther when I saw a frown on his dad's face.

"And how exactly did the two of you meet?"

Jack hesitated again, then continued with the story we'd made up for our covers.

"I was at a gala for work. Her father holds a high position in the military, so she was there too, with him. We met, and we hit it off."

I forced a smile onto my own face, leaning into Jack a bit even though we were both tense as a pulled muscle. Of all the times I'd let myself imagine Jack calling me his girlfriend and maybe introducing me to his family (which I hadn't done often), it had never gone anything like this.

"Well, I can't believe you never told us about her, Jack," said his mother, her smile seeming more genuine now. "It's wonderful to see that you've found a nice, respectable young lady to spend your time with, for once."

My eyebrows shot all the way up my forehead, and I felt Jack's grip tighten to almost uncomfortable levels around my waist. His other hand was a fist at his side, but before I could jump in and say anything, his father continued his mother's train of thought.

"It's a wonder a woman of any kind of respectable family would give you the time of day after all the disappointments you've been bringing home lately. You had a senator congratulating you last year, and now you've completely alienated one of my long-time friends and all his connections."

Jack's breathing became labored next to me, and I could feel the stress radiating off of him in waves. I frowned, the scowl only deepening as I caught Jack's mother staring at the floor and shaking her head and his father staring him down with a disapproving scowl.

"Hold on," I said, finally finding my voice after the past few minutes of shock. "Are you talking about Vernon Masters?"

"Of course I am," his dad responded. I opened my mouth to see if he happened to remember that Vernon Masters had recently fallen from public grace (although most of the public wasn't aware of the extent of it, and that he was also a wanted criminal), but he pressed on before I could, directing his comments at Jack more than me. "Not only that, but he had an inquiry into his leadership at the SSR, the first Chief ever to have that questionable of a tenure. Now, he's siding with a bunch of righteous fools who have no idea what they're talking about and are headed for the gutter, and he's going to wind up there with them, dragging us and the family name down, too."

Jack was shaking, and to my surprise, it seemed to be from a turmoil of upset emotions rather than anger. His father's words had an impact on him, and so did his mother's clear agreement with his father, but I didn't wait for any of them to sort out the situation, because I was shaking too. But with rage.

"You listen to me," I hissed, keeping my voice low to avoid throwing a scene but letting every single word drip with venom as I stared down Jack's parents. "Jack Thompson is one of the best men I know. He's sweet and wonderful and smart and strong and yeah, I want to kill him on a semi-regular basis, and there's some things I'm still mad at him for. But in the past year since that senator shook his hand, the wrong hand, he's been doing an absolutely fantastic job growing and leading and standing up for what's right, and it's been amazing to watch him become this wonderful man and leader. And if you disagree, you can go straight to hell, you absolute bastards."

All three Thompsons stared at me in shock, but I didn't care one bit. The anger still boiled in the pit of my stomach, and I knew if I stayed here long enough to get into an argument with Jack's dad, I'd probably just end up hitting him. So, I took Jack's hand from around my waist, and used it to pull him towards the exit.

"Come on, Jack, let's go. We don't need people who aren't going to appreciate you for the man you are now."

I didn't look back once as I tugged Jack out of the ballroom, people jumping out of my way to clear us a path at the fury of my gaze. Not completely the unnoticed exit we'd been shooting for, but I really didn't care anymore.

Once we got outside, we were immediately met by Peggy and Daniel, who'd decided to come in after a few minutes of us being off comms. I quickly brushed them off, since Jack was apparently too stunned to do so, telling them we were fine without filling in any details. I could see they had a thousand more questions they wanted to ask us, but before they got the chance, I brushed past them and pulled Jack towards our car. We'd arrived separately from our fellow agents for the sake of our cover, and now we were going to leave and get a little space from everyone, our friends included.

I was still fuming as I sank into the passenger seat, Jack sliding cautiously into the driver's seat. He kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eye as he started the car, but I stared straight ahead, trying to get a hold of the whirlwind of emotions warring in my chest.

I was furious at Jack's parents and the things they'd said to him. But now that we were out of there, I was also petrified by the realization I'd basically just confessed my love for Jack, despite a year and a half of trying to hide it. After a few moments of silence as Jack carefully pulled out of the parking lot, leaving Peggy and Daniel behind us, I sighed. I couldn't just ignore the situation, and the longer I waited to address it, the harder it would be.

"Listen, Jack, I'm sorry if that was weird," I started, staring straight ahead and refusing to look at him. "I just... I couldn't take what they were saying to you, and I saw the way it was hitting you, and I just... anyway, I'm sorry."

Jack didn't say anything for a few seconds, and I swear I was on the verge of a heart attack when he at last glanced over at me and spoke.

"Did you mean what you said in there?"

Of all the responses, that definitely wasn't one I was expecting. Jack kept glancing at me, only taking his eyes off the road for a fraction of a second, and I could feel a nervous energy radiating off of him that was nothing like the confidence he usually projected.

"Jack... of course I meant it. I don't think I could've ad-libbed something fake like that if I'd tried, despite my training as an agent."

"You swore," he snorted, at last sounding a little more relaxed. I was just about the only person in the office who didn't swear at least semi-regularly, but facing down Jack's dad, it just came out naturally.

"Yeah, well, your parents are assholes. I guess it brought something out of me," I grumbled. Jack looked over at me again, this time with a grin on his face. For the first time since he'd caught sight of his parents, the familiar, swaggering, ridiculous Jack Thompson that I loved so much was starting to come back.

"So... you think I'm sweet and wonderful?"

I groaned and covered my face, sinking low in my seat. My face was on fire, and I knew if Jack caught sight of my expression, that embarrassment would be reflected in it.

Jack chuckled, and a second later I felt the car roll to a stop. I risked a peek through my fingers to see that we'd pulled off on a side road, and now Jack had turned in his seat to face me. As soon as we made eye contact, I went back to completely covering my face and looked away from him.

"You know, if I didn't know better, Agent Y/L/N, I'd say it seems like you have a crush on me."

"Oh my God," I whined, turning even further away from Jack. I heard him chuckle, then felt his hands gently grip my wrists and tug them away from my face. I just stared at him, totally done with this night and this interaction. My expression apparently only made him happier, as the cheeky smile on his face grew.

"You do, don't you?"

"Shut up, Jack, alright?" I said, looking away from him and out the window and wishing to be anywhere else. "I already get enough crap about it from Peggy and Daniel."

"Wow, 'crap'? Who are you turning into?"

I yanked one of my wrists out of his hand and smacked him in the shoulder, unable to keep a smile off my face despite myself. I huffed a long sigh, mentally trying to figure out how to best get past this situation so Jack and I could keep working together despite my semi-admission, but then he spoke, his voice low and soft and more sincere than I usually heard it.

"I've got a thing for you too, you know. I have for a long time. I just never thought you'd feel the same way."

My attention snapped back to Jack, my eyes searching his face for any hint of teasing or a joke or anything else. I found nothing but plain, open honesty.

"I wasn't... great to you or Peggy when either of you first joined the agency," he continued. "I figured I'd pretty much lost my shot from then on, even if you've been a little more willing to spend time with me lately."

"Jack..." I whispered, my heart hammering in my chest. I reached out and softly cupped his cheek in my hand, and he leaned into my touch, staring at me like he couldn't quite believe I was real. "I've had a thing for you for a while, but... you've grown a lot lately. I meant what I said to your dad, you're somebody who's strong and stands up for what's right. And I also meant what I said about the few things I'm still a little mad about... you definitely made some mistakes in the past year, starting with that Senator after we dealt with Ivchenko and ending with Vernon Masters. But I've gotten to watch you grow and wake up to the bullshit around us and make different choices, and honestly, it's just made me fall harder."

A smile tugged at the corner of Jack's mouth. "Are you sure?"

"Completely."

Jack nodded, taking my hand in his and slowly pulling me closer to him. I tried to stay calm as one arm wrapped around my waist, over the console of the car, and his other hand dropped mine to tilt up my chin instead.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?"

"Hell yes."

Jack laughed, and I beamed back at him as he at last closed the distance between us for a long-awaited, lingering kiss. We stayed like that for a few minutes, locked in each others' embrace, until finally we broke apart, both breathless but with gigantic smiles on our faces.

"You know, we're about to be working extra hours since we didn't find Vernon at this thing," started Jack, looking at me with a gleam in his eye, "but do you think there's any chance of carving out a little time in the schedule for me to take you on a real date?"

I beamed back at him, my heart exploding in my chest, this time from happiness rather than anger or embarrassment.

"Absolutely."

"Good. How about tomorrow? I'll pick you up from work at eight," he said, moving to start the car again. I leaned back in my seat happily, reaching over the console to grab his hand once we started rolling again.

"How are you going to pick me up from a place we'll both be at all day?"

He shrugged. "I'll find a way. So how about it, sweetheart?"

I grinned. "As long as you don't take me to that terrible place you recommended to Peggy and Daniel last month."

"Hey now. That place is fantastic, they just have awful taste."

"Mhm. Deal or no deal, Thompson?"

"Fine, deal." I squeezed Jack's hand, unable to stop the happy gesture as we cruised down the street together in companionable silence. After a few seconds, however, Jack spoke up again. "So does this mean you're gonna swear all the time now? Because I made a bet with Sousa-"

"No! It was a heat of the moment thing, it's not happening again."

"...What if I gave you a script to say to Sousa? Just a couple words?"

"No shot, Jack! You're just going to have to take the loss to Daniel."

Jack kept teasing me, trying to cajole me into helping him win his bet with Daniel, but I just laughed and turned him down. We kept joking and talking all the way back into town, until he dropped me off at home and walked me to the door, giving me a goodnight kiss like we'd just come back from a perfect first date. Which, I guess for SSR Agents, we kind of had.

We hadn't found Vernon Masters tonight, or any of his cronies, and I'd been about two seconds from physically assaulting my long-time crush's father. But Jack and I were going on a date tomorrow, and we had plenty of time to figure out all the other stuff, together. So as far as I was concerned, tonight had been an absolutely amazing night.

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

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate​

[thetransintransformers]

Megop week 2023

June 11th, Day 1

Loyalty

Optimus Prime grows tired of the constant questioning towards Megatrons redeemed nature.

Luckily, Megatron is there to remind him that they are nothing more than negative words.

Many a time, Optimus Prime had been asked:

How could he put his trust into Megatron?

After 3 billion years of conflict, even with Megatron’s grand gesture of taking an earth alt mode, abandoning his Cybertronian form, the question always came up:

How could he put his trust into Megatron?

This particular time, the question came up in a rather unpleasant surprise interaction with Agent Schloder. A lapdog to G.H.O.S.T as much as he tried to enforce the autobots as lapdogs themselves.

“It's a matter of concern,” the agent had started. “He cares too much about the wrong bots, after all.”

It was no secret, despite Megatron’s turned disposition, he was not viewed through the fondest lens by the organization. So much so, to scoff at his desire for rogue Decepticons to be treated with mercy; not that they weren't guilty, Megatron knew that. But even the smallest shred of mercy to those he felt he abandoned. Optimus could understand that well enough, even when he felt he had no power over such matters.

He began his own counter-argument. “There is no such thing as caring for the wrong bots. The last of the Decepticons, yes, are our enemy. But they are still Cybertronian.” He wanted to be harsher, despite his nature. Decepticons knew plenty well their risks. No place to go, except scavenge for Energon wherever they could, or come to G.H.O.S.T to be imprisoned. “You forget Shloder, Autobots, and Decepticons aren't wildly different species. Just different ideologies. All born from a scarcity on our home planet. Autobots–”

“--are the good guys. And the Decepticons are the bad guys.” Schloder interrupted, a gloating air surrounding him. “Yup, I pretty much got it all figured out OP.” He stretched his back, all but missing the eye-roll Optimus Prime had mustered. Hmm, perhaps Megatron’s bad influence was wearing off on him. “Cant even be bothered to get rid of his Decepticon insignia.” He muttered to himself.

Optimus spoke up at last, maintaining the last of the patience he had with the faux-pas agent. “I think I need to be going, Agent Schloder. Nice speaking with you again.”

Schloder was none the wiser to how irritated he made the autobot leader. “No problem, back to your post. There’s a hot dog in the cafeteria calling my name.” He said in passing by Optimus.

Finally, finally, he was free from this dread conversation. Now though, Optimus felt he really needed the comfort of the mentioned former Decepticon.

—

It was easy finding Megatron, in his same training routine. And it was just as easy to slip in undetected, as the room panels shot out to test the former decepticons skills.

Megatron seemed entirely unaware of Optimus’ presence in the room, and only made aware when an ax cut its way through the air into a turret poised to shoot the mech off his balance.

Megatron let out a brief chuckle. “I had that one, you know.” Before looking to the ceiling. “Module off.” It wasn’t often he quit midway through a training session, but for Optimus, he would make an exception.

Megatron walked his way up to the Prime, “though it is nice to see you have my back.”

Optimus smiled, “Oh always, you’re my voice of reason on the weekends,”

The ex-Decepticon rolled his eyes at such a silly joke, just like Prime. He chuckled and retorted. “Oh sure sure, the sand voice of reason who I recall, during the battle of San Marcos—“ his words paused, looking down at a sudden feeling on his metal skin.

Down below him, Optimus had grabbed his servo in his own, just holding it. Megatron, ever so tenderly, ceases his speaking and brought the Prime’s blue knuckles to his lips, delivering a soft kiss. Optimus, watching the kiss in a familiar awe, settled his helm against the ex-Decepticons shiny gray helmet.

Megatron muttered softly at such a gesture. “What happened?”

Optimus, almost distractedly, responded. “Mmm. Nothing.”

Megatron scoffed, “You get this touchy when something’s happened. I know you.”

Optimus leaned away, cupping Megatron's face in his own servos. “And I am grateful for that. I’m not so grateful that it would appear the agents here don’t quite know you.” He finished, a clear drop in his demeanor. He turned, walking out of the room.

Megatron was a bit taken aback, before coming to his own conclusion, a slight smirk on his face, following Optimus out of the training room. “If this is Schloder talk, you should really learn to tune that man out. I have.” He joked.

A sad smile returned to Optimus' face. “If it were that easy for me.” Megatron caught up with him, laying a servo on his shoulder. “A trip to the observation deck would help you, wouldn’t it?”

Optimus couldn’t help but nod, a grin now evolving from a sad smile. “Like you said. You know me.”

—

The sky outside the observation deck was beautiful. Whisper of dying clouds over a golden sunset. It truly made one appreciate the beauty of earth’s nature.

But it did little to soothe Optimus nerves from his talk with Schloder.

Megatron could see that well enough. “Do not fret Optimus. You know my loyalty is to you.”

Optimus winced fit a moment, turning away from the view to face Megatron. “And that, I believe is the problem. I know I can trust you. But G.H.O.S.T doesn’t. They only expect you to at some point revert back to the war days.”

He let out a heavy sigh. Not all of it was off his chassis, but enough so. He turned back, gripping the railing just a bit too firmly. “You should have heard how he spoke. Why a man like Schloder thinks he knows more about your loyalty than the leader you fought against for 3 billion years I’ll never know.”

It was Megatrons turn to since. The war was always painful to bring up. He slid just a bit closer to Optimus’ side. “I’ll be the last to defend Schloder, you know that. This is not a simple truce from the war days. I have no reason to turn my back on you.”

Optimus spoke, once more. Megatrons words were nice, but one thing itched at him. “He did bring up, well,” he placed a servo over Megatrons G.H.O.S.T insignia. “When we were given these new badges. You chose to have yours remain a decepticon insignia. Why not autobot?” A simple question, really. One treated with the utmost care.

Megatron’s smile faded, though his eyes held a tender fondness, placing his servo over Optimus’ once again. “I wear this symbol as a reminder, if anything.” He looked down, a dismayed tone taking on his words. “A reminder of how far I fell. I wanted to do something right and . . . it all went to my head, too quickly.”

Once again, his eyes darted back to Optimus. “But, every so often. When I look at this badge and this symbol. I think of you . . . And I know where my loyalty lies.” He brought his opposite servo up to cup Optimus’ cheek. “Right here by your side. Where you gave me your trust, despite how far I’ve fallen in the past.”

Optimus was simply stunned. Stunned at how deeply impacted he made Megatron feel. “How could I not?” He whispered, leaning in to close the gap and kiss his wonderful love. “I owe you just as much. For trusting me, despite the chance I would have simply turned you in.”

Megatron couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, that certainly never crossed my mind.” His chuckle became louder as the Prime smacked his arm. He settled once more, speaking lightly. “I will always be loyal to you, Optimus. It’s the least I can do.”

Optimus rested his head gently against the mech’s shoulder, staring out at the cooling light Sky.

“And I to you, Megatron.”