#and i was supposed to be in kitchen 2 as that boss told me.

[oldbeecharmer]

I fucking hate my job

[gutsby]

Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.

You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frankly, you were mortified.

And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.

You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less than a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,

“Put it down.”

You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.

Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.

“Are we done?”

Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.

You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.

Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.

Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.

His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.

“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.

“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better part of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”

That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.

“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.

“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.

At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.

“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.

A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.

“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”

It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.

Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.

“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.

At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.

Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.

Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.

The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.

“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.

“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.

“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”

Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.

“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.

You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’

No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.

What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.

“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”

Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.

“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.

Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.

“You like skylines?” he asked.

You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.

“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.

Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.

You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.

“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.

Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.

Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.

“James,” you hissed.

Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.

“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.

The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?

“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”

Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.

The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.

“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”

You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.

“James!”

Again with that name.

“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”

Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.

“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.

“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.

Like he’d read your mind.

In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Just let it happen, honey.”

He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.

Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.

Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:

“N-no, Bucky.”

To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.

He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.

“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.

“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”

The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.

Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.

A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.

You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.

“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”

His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.

When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.

Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.

He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.

“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.

You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.

Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”

In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.

Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?

It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.

You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.

“Open the fucking door!”

He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.

Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.

One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.

You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.

Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.

He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.

“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”

No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.

The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.

“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.

“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:

Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.

“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.

He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.

“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”

That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.

“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”

His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.

You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.

The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.

“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.

“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.

Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.

This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.

Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”

“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”

He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.

“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.

As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.

You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.

You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.

Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.

He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:

“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”

Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.

“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.

“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.

For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.

While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.

How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.

Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.

Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.

Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.

A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.

Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.

You barged in and froze.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.

Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.

Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.

Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.

He was only met with silence.

Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.

The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”

Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.

Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.

Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.

“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”

If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.

“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.

Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.

You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.

“James.”

“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.

At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,

“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”

Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.

“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.

You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.

You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.

His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.

Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.

“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.

“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.

“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.

Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.

A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.

He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.

Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.

No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.

“Okay.”

Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.

You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”

[beelmons]

Luxury Poker Nights pt. 2

Pairing: Hotch, Reid, Morgan x fem!reader Rating: Explicit, smut (18+, minors do not interact with this story) Word count: 5,806 cw: unprotected sex (do not recommend), sex-servant kink, voyeurism, multiple partners, non-vegan food options, slight degradation, free use kink Summary: It's Aaron's turn to host the poker night, and he figured it would be a great move to invite the entertainment they all fervently enjoyed last time: you. A/N: This was so highly requested I hope it lives up to expectations. Prompted by an original blurb found here Tag list: @illumi3 @ash-recs @canyonmooncreations @howabouticallyou @unlikelyqueenninja @kay-moranguinho and my always honorary mentions: @ihavemanyhusbands @cassiemartzz

Meeting Aaron Hotchner was nothing short of an absolute pleasure. Gentle, kind, considerate, funny when he finally got rid of the stoic boss facade, everything you would love in a partner whether casual or serious. All these reasons played a role in deciding to partake on a very specific contract: to serve as his servant, sexually speaking. 

"Hey," Aaron greeted you before leaning in to press a friendly kiss to your cheek. 

"Hey, Mr. Hotchner." you replied. 

His head tilted and eyebrows raised with playful offense "I've told you, if you don't want to call me Aaron, at least go with Hotch." 

Every so often he would call you in, mostly to a very beautiful house owned by a man you knew as Rossi, and you'd come for the sole purpose to act out your role. To serve and please them. 

This time, however, he was hosting in his own apartment. It was the classic bachelor pad, the adult version, barely decorated but tidy and resourceful. You had been in there only once, but you had memorized the area pretty well. He also looked especially handsome, navy blue polo shirt and denim black pants with casual sneakers, you could notice his toned biceps in that outfit. 

"What are my instructions for today?" you asked as you got in, taking a look around to remember the layout. 

"The usual. Although, I might ask you to take charge of the kitchen for a little bit. Bring snacks, beverages, nothing too complicated. Oh, and…” he began to say, reaching for a bag that was laying by the entrance “this.” 

From it, he pulled out what seemed like a traditional maid apron. You could tell he had it tailored for your body, and that the lace around it seemed to be fine, not the cheap ones costume stores had. You reached for it and pulled it from the strings you were supposed to tie, you hovered it over your body to catch a preview of what it would look like, the man had a good eye, it sure made you feel hot. 

“Of course, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can ditch it.” he tried to reassure you, seeing how you kept admiring the piece. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Hotchner. But a maid outfit? I thought you preferred me in the bare.” you teased. 

“Don’t worry, we still get plenty of access to the parts of you we love the most, being that the apron is the only garment of the costume you will actually wear.” his hands slipped in his pockets, his face lighting up with a smug smile “You can change in the bathroom, the guys should be here soon.” 

You made your way to the mentioned room to obey your first order of the night. Aaron waited patiently in the kitchen, putting together a couple more things so that the serving part of your job would be easier. Nonetheless, a knock on the door distracted him from his duty. He hurried to open, immediately being greeted by Morgan and Reid. 

“Hey, where’s Dave?” he asked, noticing a missing member. 

“He said he’s got something to do but he’ll catch us—” Morgan’s eyes fixed on something behind Hotch, and his train of thought completely disappeared “—later.” 

The boss turned around when he noticed Spencer’s perplexed eyes, similar to Morgan’s, and he smiled to himself as he turned around to watch you already in your ‘uniform’, to call it some way. The apron was comfortably secured around your waist, the length of it barely covering your front to the middle of your thighs, your back absolutely exposed, being that the fabric of the apron was only on the forepart, your upper body out in the open, with your nipples already perked from the cold air conditioning hitting them. And to them, you were the most beautiful of monuments. 

“What’s your safe word?” Aaron asked, his eyes immediately scanning your body.

“Cacao.” you said confidently, your head nodding in reassurance. 

Aaron looked back at Spencer and Morgan, making sure they caught what you had said. They both shook their heads in agreement, and so he locked the door behind them “Let’s begin poker night, then.” he ordered. 

“I’ll get some drinks for you guys.” you said, and you were about to move to the kitchen when Hotch’s voice stopped you. 

“I believe I haven’t given you permission to speak.” he emitted in a commanding voice. 

You understood his words for what they were: a warning. He had been clear enough, when you were there to work, you had to be diligent. Always keep yourself busy, available, and quiet, those were the rules you had signed up for. Your hands folded on your lap and you bowed your head slightly in response. 

Once they were out of your sight, you headed to the kitchen. You gathered a couple of snacks that Mr. Hotchner had prepared; some peanuts, pretzels, and cut up fruit, added with three open beers. He had let a tray out for you as well, possibly with the intention of making everything easier. By the time you got to the table and began to spread the food and beverages around they had already dealt the cards. 

You settled the empty tray on the side on a random surface, and Mr. Hotchner spread one arm in your direction indicating you that he wanted you to join his side; you did as he desired and his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you to sit on his leg. As if ritualistic, the hand that was closer to his body was grabbed and brought to his lips, a gentle kiss landed on the back of it, and then he guided it to his member, that at some point he had already exposed. It was an instinct, you already knew what to do. Your hand began to slowly massage the barely hard shaft, and you could hear him exhale particularly hard at the sensation. 

“Rules will change for tonight. You can’t bet ‘All in’ unless you have at least fifteen chips, and you can’t bet two rounds in a row.” Aaron began to say. 

“Isn’t 15 a bit expensive?” Spencer’s eyes narrowed with doubt. 

“Not at all, given that an ‘all in’ winner also gets 10 minutes to command our servant as they please.” his hand dragged upwards, purposely taking his time to brush your skin with his fingertips, nipple included, until they landed on your chin, tilting your face to have you look in the direction of the other two men “And you could agree, she’s worth the risk.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat at the way they hungrily stared at you, but they didn’t say anything further, both Morgan and Reid simply went back to looking at their cards. 

The game began and you hadn’t been given permission to move, you had to remain on Mr. Hotchner’s leg, caressing his member. He seemed unbothered by your steady movement, but you could feel him throb every so often, and it would fill you with cocky pride. That was another rule: you weren’t allowed to go rogue, they came when they wanted to, not when you caused them to. If you acted too smart and tried to make them climax before they wanted to, you were sidelined, given the silent treatment. That was more punishment than doing anything else to you, because chances were you were going to enjoy whatever else. 

You would steal a glance at random times to notice his tip swollen and reddened, even when he tried to keep composure, and continued to play his hands normally, you had learned the little twitches his dick made whenever he was getting close. His head turned to place a chaste kiss to your shoulder blade, giving you permission to keep going. Your hand trailed down to give his balls a gentle squeeze, which caused a loud groan to come out of his throat, and after a couple more fast strokes he began to spill his seed. 

Mr. Hotchner had been clear that he did not like messes; his entire member was coated in his semen, and some had spilled over his pants as well. You reached for one of the pockets the apron had sown on to find a handkerchief that you recognized as his, in seconds, you were on your knees, you wiped clean the fabric of his pants, his shaft, on the other hand, didn’t require the cloth, you grabbed at the base and licked a strip up, repeating the same movement until he was clean, and hard yet again. 

“All in.” Morgan’s voice snapped everyone’s attention, and since you hadn’t been given indication to do otherwise, your mouth kept working Aaron’s dick.

“Already? You’ve only won one round.” Spencer asked, his math not quite adding up. 

“I’ve got enough.” he clarified. 

“You got exactly 15, though, if you lose this, you don’t get any more.” Hotch looked in his direction.

Morgan’s head tilted slightly to the side, catching sight of your still bobbing head. He smiled as a response to his boss’s explanation, pushing the chips forward to the center of the table. 

“She’s worth the risk.” he said, a wink sent to Spencer. You couldn’t help but blush at his words, even if you weren’t able to stop your current activity unless indicated. 

The other two men exchanged looks, if they didn’t raise, they would still lose, perhaps that was part of Morgan’s scheme, but they weren’t about to just give you up by default. They pushed the corresponding chips to the pool in the center, and Reid was the first one to open his cards. Full house, nines over jacks. Hotch was in a slump, two pairs, queens and kings. 

“Full house.” Morgan said before he opened his cards, and Spencer’s attention was specially perked “Aces over sevens.” he finally said. 

Spencer let out a soft curse under his breath as Morgan laughed in pride, he was certainly rejoicing on having made that play. You received a light tap on your shoulder that indicated you it was time to move masters, and so you stood up and directed to stand next to Derek. 

“Actually, sweetheart, I will need you in the kitchen for a bit.” he said, his hand nonetheless landing on the skin of your rear, gently squeezing it “Peanuts and pretzels are a bit hard on my stomach, do you think you could make me a quick sandwich?” he asked ever so chivalrously.  

“Anything in particular you would like?” you asked, taking his question as permission to speak. 

“Some ham and bacon would be excellent, thank you.” with a soft slap of your ass he sent you your merry way. 

Kitchen duty was on the original arrangement, although you didn’t quite picture yourself making sandwiches, Derek’s smile was so charming you would learn gourmet cuisine just to please him. 

You gathered the required stuff, bread, some mayonnaise, and the ham and bacon. Being that you were topless, using a pan was out of the question, so you used the tray on the small electric oven that was next to the stove to cook the pork strips. You were too entranced by the silly way in which the meat shrunk to notice that Derek had walked into the kitchen, only becoming aware of his presence when he leaned next to you against the counter. 

“You make a great maid.” he pointed out, and you bolted up a little from the surprise. His hand instinctively reached for your waist, trying to keep you from falling back “Easy, you might hurt yourself.” 

Even when he made sure your feet were steady, he didn’t remove his hand from where it was, in fact, he simply took a couple of steps closer. 

“I enjoy servicing.” you said, eyes traveling south. You could see his cock already hanging out from his zipper, and you tried to reach for it in an attempt to caress it. His free hand, however, stopped you. 

“I can see that. You also take initiative, that’s impressive.” he began, his hand bringing yours up to press a kiss to it in a similar way Hotch used to do, but instead of allowing it to stroke his member, he directed it to the kitchen utensils you had laid out “But I believe for things to be done right they have to be done with the utmost concentration, so why don’t we focus on that sandwich, huh?” 

You pouted a little and he let out a light chuckle at your disappointment. You went back to the task at hand, getting a dull butter knife to begin spreading the mayonnaise around the slice. You felt the warmth of his touch leave your waist, and you were about to complain yet again until you felt one of his fingers sneak between your legs and trail up your slit. 

You shuddered and your legs instinctively closed. He tsk’ed his tongue in disapproval, and you understood to return them to their original position. Derek wasted no time, the two fingers in the middle of his hand slipping into your cunt. He was fixated on your face, absorbing every expression as you melted due to his digits, your hands gripping on the surface, leaving the sandwich unattended. 

“I haven’t told you to stop working, have I?” he whispered commandingly. 

His fingers began to curl upwards inside of you as they continued to move inside and out, getting coated with your juices. You tried your best to keep yourself still, your hand shakily reaching for the rest of the ingredients. He didn’t stop his movements even when you dropped the knife on the counter from the way he hit the back of your cunt.

“Careful.” he warned at the clinking sound, you peeked over your shoulder while you grabbed the utensil and out of the corner of your eye you could notice his hand moving over his now hardened cock “Come on, beautiful, keep going.” 

You shook your head a little in an attempt to clear it, even when his relentless fingers weren’t giving you the opportunity. You finally managed to pay attention and began to assemble the deli meats. You barely noticed when he moved behind you until you felt his tip rub against your entrance. 

His hands ran over your front as he pushed inside of you, slowly, and they landed on your breasts. A pleasure mewl slipped past your mouth, but you cut it short. 

“Come on, now, I’m not Hotch.” he complained while he gave you the chance to adjust to his member “You don’t gotta have my permission to talk, let that voice out.” 

His hips snapped rather roughly against yours, a loud slapping sound echoing around the kitchen; it caused a loud moan from you, one that you were sure could be heard from the other room. “That’s a good girl.” he praised. 

His initial rhythm wasn’t slow, after all he was in a hurry. It made assembling the sandwich all much more difficult, you struggled to open the door of the electric oven, almost getting burned thanks to the way his cock so deeply pushed inside you, all while your throat was unable to keep quiet, intermittent noises unsteady from his thrusts. 

One of his hands slipped down and in between your legs, the tip of his middle finger rubbed at your clit with a gentle speed, almost unmatching to his hips. You sensed him look over your shoulder to check up on the status of his food, and your hand trembled as you set the bacon down to finish it up. He laughed with pleasure, and his fingers dipped on the skin around your hips. 

“Can you take it, baby?” you could feel his thick member erratically twitching inside of you as he asked, and you nodded your head fervently “Of course you can.” he reassured. 

He snapped a couple more times, rough enough to make you lose your balance and press up against the counter, before you heard him grunt and felt your cunt being filled with his spill. The sensation of his cock pushing your walls sent you over the edge, and you began to drip with your release, a loud moan accompanying the blissful sensation. He pulled out with ease, not waiting for you to come out of your high, and stepped away to grab the meal you had prepared. 

“Thank you, beautiful, looks delicious.” he winked at you with his signature charming smile before he began walking out of the kitchen “Oh, and pretty boy said he wanted some iced tea, be a doll and bring it after you’re done cleaning up, thanks.” 

Without further word, he vanished from your sight. You had to take a second to catch your breath, desperate for a bit more friction. You considered touching yourself, but if Mr. Hotchner were to catch you, you wouldn’t be able to come again all night, he would make sure of it. 

You could feel Derek’s cum beginning to drip, but the cleanliness of the kitchen was a priority. You abided by the task that you had been handed, after a couple of minutes of cleaning up, since you hadn’t made a big mess, you prepared the beverage for Dr. Reid and headed back to the area. You settled the glass of iced tea next to the man that had requested it. 

“All in.” as soon as you stood next to him, you heard the youngest of the group exclaim, he then muttered a casual ‘thank you’ at the gesture of having his drink brought over. 

Hotch and Morgan exchanged playful glances. They knew he was rushing, his decision possibly prompted by the fact that your breasts were so close to his face; they noticed the bobbing of his adam’s apple, and Aaron had paid attention to how he palmed his bulge while he heard you get taken in the kitchen. Logic just flew out of the window when you were around, and his coworkers adored seeing that side of him. 

“You got me.” Morgan said as he folded his cards, and Reid cockily took a sip off his drink.  

“I’ll play.” Hotch mentioned before adding his chips to the pool. 

“Two pairs. Kings and Queens.” Spencer opened his hand. 

On his part, Hotch could simply scoff while he threw his cards on the table. “Jacks and Queens.” he said with pretend defeat. 

The blond man boasted with his expression in pure pride. He didn’t use to be the kind to order you around, unlike the other two who had gotten very comfortable, and preferred you took the initiative during game sessions. 

This time, nonetheless, he looked quite eager to take control. Once he noticed you looking at him expectantly, waiting patiently for your command. He narrowed his eyes, ever inexperienced, trying to come up with something, or rather trying to find the right way to ask. 

“Could you…” he stopped to try and analyze his next words “Could you bend over?” he motioned towards the table. 

It took your entire strength to not laugh, you weren’t making fun of him, he was just ridiculously adorable, and it made hard contrast with the whole situation in the first place and his actual sexual interests. You obeyed, not wanting to make him self-conscious, moving Derek’s plate out of the way elegantly before resting your entire body face-down against the piece of furniture. 

You let out a quiet whimper from the contrast in temperature; your ass was left up and exposed in his direction. He finally stood up, and you looked back to peek at what he was up to, his hips had lined up with yours, his member was still clothed, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing at your asscheeks and pressing his bulge against your dripping cunt. 

“Why don’t we change the game?” his eyes were glued on your skin wrinkling up with every push, but he kept talking to his coworkers “How about blackjack? Hotch can play house” he proposed. 

“Reid, it’s literally illegal for you to play blackjack in two states.” Hotch pointed out. 

“That’s true. You have an unfair advantage.” Morgan added. 

“Card counting can only be done with extreme concentration and observation of the cards being dealt.” his eyes didn’t leave your body, his palm gently massaging your skin as he kept rubbing himself on you “And I happen to be too busy to pay enough attention.” 

“Alright, but blackjack is a fast game. The player needs to win at least three rounds to claim their prize. Draws don’t count towards the winning number.” Aaron clarified.

The rest of the players nodded in agreement. Mr. Hotchner was the dealer, since he was playing the role of ‘the house’, and he began assigning the first round of cards. Before he got to Reid, though, he noticed there was no space on the table, your body occupying most of it, and so he resolved he would just put it over your naked back. 

You gulped in surprise and your body seemed to get hotter, you surely weren’t expected to be used this way; your nipples brushed against the surface of the table, and Reid noticed how you pushed back against him slightly. 

The doctor pulled away, satisfied for the time being with the friction that he had gotten, and realized there were a couple of white-ish stains. 

“Come on, Morgan!” he exclaimed once he noticed it was semen “Can’t you clean up after yourself?” 

Derek could only break into a laugh, and you noticed a small smirk on Aaron’s face as well. 

“Sorry, kid.” he simply said, waiting for Hotch to open his second card. 

Reid made an unamused expression and crouched down to observe the situation. You still had some drip down your thigh, and your slit still had some traces of Morgan’s release. 

“I’ll help you out, but I need you to do something for me.” he said, palming at your ass to let you know he was talking to you; you hummed, replying that you were listening intently “I won’t be able to use my mouth, so if I suck, it means hit, if I insert, it means stay” 

You furrowed your brows with confusion, but he didn’t give you much time to understand. You felt his tongue trail up your inner thigh, taking the liquid that had spilled over it with it, and shortly the muscle pressed against your slit, taking a lap at your entire sex.

Your hands gripped at the side edges of the square table, on your right side Derek Morgan was looking intently at his cards, on your left Aaron Hotchner was paying close attention to the youngest’s movements. He snapped back to the game once your pleased noises started flowing, his hand darting out to land on top of yours and rub at the back of it slightly. Aaron dealt the second round of cards and Reid’s landed on your back once again. 

“14.” the older man said. 

A little distracted by the way his tongue teased your labia, you didn’t pay attention to the words the dealer had said until you felt Spencer’s lips wrap around your clit and intensely suck the air in. The sensation, which was foreign, made your legs go weak; the man pressed his face against your rear to keep you up, and it only made the interaction so much hotter. 

“Hit me!” you exclaimed in between moans. 

“8. Adds to 22.” Hotch said calmly. 

Reid grumbled against your cunt, his tongue going back to your entrance instead, superficially licking, taking his time to taste everything around it. 

Morgan was busted as well, which meant the house took the round. Spencer kept a steady and slow pace; you felt the cards being removed from your back and, almost immediately, a new one was added. 

“20.” Hotch said again. 

The youngster’s hands had been placed against the outer sides of your thighs in the meantime, however once he heard the number they traveled up. He pulled away and you slightly whined at the lack of contact, his thumbs spread the outer part of your pussy open and his tongue immediately slipped inside your entrance. 

“Stay.” you struggled to let out, only coming out as a shaky breath. 

Hotch opened a couple more cards, Derek was busted again, so there was a chance for Reid’s win. 

“21 for the house, house wins.” Aaron exclaimed. 

Your head defeatedly laid against the wooden table, the man buried in your rear could feel your walls clenching and your hips slightly moving to grind against yours. Your shaky breaths didn’t only alert him that your second orgasm of the night was coming, the other two men could also tell. 

“Reid, your time with her is almost up.” Aaron pointed out after taking a look at his watch. 

Spencer pulled away once again, to your discomfort, and narrowed his eyes pretending to think.

“I’ll tell you what, win this round and I’ll let you orgasm.” Reid proposed to you. 

You trembled a little with anticipation, feeling your orgasm edging on. Instead of allowing his tongue back on you, he simply pressed open-mouthed kisses to your labia, making sure he wouldn’t touch any sensitive areas. 

Aaron dealt another round of cards over your back, not even paying attention to your begging face. 

“16.” he notified you since your eyes were tightly shut with irritation from being so close yet unable to release. 

“Hit me.” you commanded, still feeling Reid’s wet lips kissing your sides. 

“3. Adds to 19.” He clarified as he threw another card against your back. 

“Hit me.” you said once again.

Aaron and Spencer exchanged looks, it was a very risky move, statistically heavily improbable.

Hotch opened the new card against your back, and he let out a pleased chuckle. “2. Adds to twenty one.” 

Reid laughed with incredulity, but he was a man of his word. His lips clasped your sensitive nub once again, and he sucked the air in as his tongue moved rapidly from side to side. A high-pitched moan at his movements, and you couldn’t help but to release your juices over his face. You could hear an erotic slurping sound from the back, he was abiding by his promise of keeping you clean. 

“Well played!” he beamed at you and cleared the cards from your back “That was a very unlikely pull, I’m surprised you made it.” 

“Certainly.” Hotch reassured as he dealt the next round of cards.

Reid had sat back down on his chair, and as the pieces of carton landed on you, you decided to stay put on the table. Spencer’s eyes would travel from his cards to your ass from time to time, almost as if he was pondering his next move after he won. 

However, he wouldn’t be as lucky, and neither would Derek, since the next round was won by the house, which meant Hotch was back in control. You were about to stand back up and his hand laid on your bare back, stopping your movement,

“Actually, honey, why don’t you remain there for a little bit more?” he commanded and you obediently remained “Reid, move.” he said standing up.

The younger furrowed his brows with unintentional defiance “But this is my seat…” he quietly complained. 

“You can have your seat back once I’m done with her.” Hotch said, his tone was as imposing, but you could tell he was a little more gentle. You didn’t know the exact nature of their relationship, but you had figured Spencer was a soft spot for him. 

He finally obeyed and stood up and away from the chair, leaving enough space for Hotch to stand behind you. You could immediately feel the tip of his member prodding at your entrance, after what Reid had done to you, you certainly didn’t need any more preparation. You were overstimulated as it was, but his cock was always welcome, and he could tell by the way you were clenching around nothing simply by having him so close. 

He smirked to himself at the feeling and immediately allowed himself inside of you. You grunted with pleasure as you felt him enter, your fingers, tired from gripping on the sides of the table, beginning to curl around in the air. 

“Here, you can grab onto this.” the ever so chivalrous Derek Morgan reached out to intertwine his fingers with yours, giving you a soft area for you to squeeze trying to not lose control. 

Mr. Hotchner wasn’t going to pretend being gentle, his thrusts picking up speed as soon as you had gotten used to his size. He moved his shirt slightly aside, enjoying every second of watching himself disappear between your contracting walls. He let out a soft groan in pleasure, and you could tell he was beginning to lose himself in you. His hand gripped at your buttock, squeezing roughly to help him move your hips back and forth. 

The other two participants didn’t seem to move a finger, they could only stare, with pleased expressions on their face, at the way tears began to prickle on the corner of your eyes. Reid reached to land a hand on top of your head soothingly, and his kindness was always appreciated. 

Your obnoxious sounds were a delight to the three of them, therefore they dreaded the tune of a ringing phone interrupting the melody they adored. Hotch reached for the gadget within his pocket, furrowing his brows at the caller ID. 

“Yeah, JJ?” he said and made a ‘shushing’ sign to Spencer and Derek. 

Reid gently moved his hand from your head to your mouth, initially he was simply going to cover it with his palm, but an impulsive thought beat him to it: his index and middle finger slipped inside your mouth and pressed against your tongue. 

“Suck.” he ordered in a whisper “It will help you keep quiet.” 

You obeyed the doctor’s order, however, focusing on coating his digits in your saliva; your sounds were kept muffled in your throat, but they escaped your lips from time to time, since Aaron was not giving you a second of rest. 

“Can’t it wait? I see. It’s fine, Reid and Morgan are with me, call Dave, we’ll meet you there in 15.” Hotch continued instructing. He was doing his best to appear unbothered, and he was purposely hitting deeper each time, almost making it a challenge for you to keep your sounds down. 

“A case?” Morgan inquired as soon as his superior got off the phone. 

“And urgent.” he put the device away once again and leaned slightly over you. His fingers glued themselves to your clit, circling it slowly, he was trying to, most likely, rush your orgasm. The pleasure it brought to you was a little painful, being that it had been the part of your body that had received the most attention during the night. You whined at the sensation, and Reid had to slide his fingers further back to keep you from screaming. 

“You know, Hotch, there’s a question that I’ve been meaning to ask for a while.” Spencer suddenly emitted, and Aaron looked curiously in his direction, prompting him to inquire “Are you really paying her?” 

The question caused Hotch to chuckle slightly “No, it’s more like an arrangement.” he confessed, still focused on pounding your cunt. 

“Then what does she get out of it?” his eyes narrowed as he observed you, fucked out of your mind, swallow your cheeks around his fingers. 

“She gets to come,” he clarified “as many times as she can take.” 

As he spoke, his hand raised to land a loud, yet not utterly strong, slap on your ass; he did that sometimes when he allowed you to release. His hips snapped one final time, pressing all the way in to spill his cum inside of you. Your third orgasm of the night was divine, your teeth slightly gritting against Reid’s skin. 

You laid there, absolutely exhausted, for a couple of minutes as they gathered their things and fixed up their clothes. Once you had recovered your energy enough to stand up, you felt your knees betraying you almost immediately. Morgan bolted from his nearby spot to offer his body as support, his arm surrounding your middle. 

“You alright?” he asked with concern and you nodded. 

“Here.” Spencer came closer with a wet wipe that he handed to you. 

“I’m sorry we can’t see you off, but this is urgent.” Hotch came out of a random room with a briefcase on his hand and his pristine suit already on “Rest as much as you want and help yourself to anything in the kitchen, just make sure to lock the door when you leave.” 

Without saying any further he leaned closer to you and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. He muttered a ‘let’s go’ directed to his subordinates and almost dashed outside the apartment. Morgan simply took a quick peck at the side of your head and told you to ‘take care’. Spencer stood there awkwardly for a second; you could see in his eyes that he was trying to do something, anything, but he couldn’t find the right gesture. Unable to take it much longer, you curled your hand into a fist and offered it in his direction. He bumped it with a fist of his own, and both of you laughed with a bit of embarrassment.

“Listen,” you said before he could move away, slightly entranced by his hazel eyes “the arrangement I have with Mr. Hotchner…” you diverted your gaze, suddenly slightly embarrassed “...it’s not exclusive.” you finally said. 

Spencer’s eyes opened and eyebrows raised in surprise, were you insinuating what he thought you were? His mouth opened and closed in search for an answer, but he struggled to make sense of anything, too scared to diffuse the interest you had shown in him. 

“You don’t have to agree right now,” you reached behind you, to the side table that had the landline phone on it, to grab a pad and a pen and immediately wrote down your number “if you want to explore a contract of your own, give me a call.” you said with a smile handing the paper over to him. 

“I will!” he said with almost too much excitement. 

“Reid!” Morgan yelled from the corridor. 

Spencer let out a quick curse and wrinkled his face with frustration “I’ll call you.” he said before he left in a rush. 

You giggled a little with teenage-like excitement, a feeling that you hadn’t experienced since you first started your dynamic with Mr. Hotchner. New guy, new conditions, new games. Perhaps poker is not the only way to have fun. 

[lichenes]

Disco Belgica

You and Joost work in an office in his early days as a musician. Enemies to lovers who?? what??

CW: haterperson and loverboy truly, toxic workplace behaviour

wc: 814

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

You were Joost’s worst nightmare. He was plagued by you everywhere he went. It wasn’t helping that you were so fucking bright and cheerfull to everyone you met, yet when it came to him - he never got the same treatment. “Do you mind?” You said as you waved at him, your eyes and voice full of disdain. “What?” He answered. “You’re staring.” 

It happened more often than he’d like to admit, the constant surveillance made your stomach do flips. Joost has been working in the same office as you for a few months and, apparently, made it his purpose to drive you crazy. “I need you to go through these documents.” You dropped them onto his desk, his blue eyes drifted to your own. “What’s this?” His accent evident, the venom rolling deliciously off of his tongue. 

“Boss told me to give them to you I don’t know what they pertain to Klein.” You were about to turn on your heel and walk away but he called your name. “I didn’t tell you to use my name, did I?” You said making sure to convey as much hate in your tone as you could. “Jesus you’re such a pain in the ass.” You opted against retaliating his stupid remark and went back to your work. 

At the end of the day you were getting up to leave as one of your coworkers approached your desk. “Hey, Klein left this for you.” You looked at what appeared to be a folder with over 2 hours of work. “That motherf- this was supposed to be done by the end of the day! Did he tell you why he didn’t finish it?” You were fuming. “I’m not taking this home, it’s his job left unfinished.” 

Joost was just walking past the reception when you caught up to him and almost tripped him over (it was meant to be a tap on the shoulder). “Jesus, what the fuck?” The folder was shoved into his arms. “Don’t take me for a pushover, Klein. I’m not gonna do your fucking work.” Walking away you caught his face going red. 

God damnit. He hoped it wasn’t visible - although his pale complexion must’ve given it away. Truth be told he just liked fucking with you to rile you up to the point of breaking. Your authoritative side came out just when you were about to snap and he loved it. He did the remaining work in his house but couldn’t quite keep his mind off of you. 

The next day he dropped off the documents at the boss’ office and made a beeline towards the kitchen where you usually resided for the first few hours of the day. “I need to talk to you.” You raised your eyebrow. “No you don’t, save the apology for someone who cares Klein” He rolled his eyes. “Just- please?” You eyes widened when you heard him mutter the word, for the first time since you’ve known him. 

You stood up wordlessly and followed Joost to the desolated part of the office - a corridor mostly used for the cubby holes of the janitors and cleaning supplies. “What the fuck do you want.” He looked increasingly nervous with each passing second. You crossed your arms. “Cut the shit Klein. Come on, spit it out.” He straightened his back and pulled out a small packet of your favourite candies. 

“What is this?” “I just wanted to apologise properly. I don’t hate you and I wish you wouldn’t hate me too.” You were flabbergasted. Your hands fell to your sides. “Cat got you tongue?” He smiled at you for the first time since… ever, you realised. “H-How did you know I liked these?” You were starting to suspect he was stalking you. “It’s not anything bad! I just asked the only guy who you talk to. B-besides me…” His voice faltered a litte when he mentioned Alex.

You took the candies into your hand and quickly thanked him then walked away moved by his sudden change in attitude. 

The next day when you walked up to his desk he actually gave you a smile and you handed him a thank-you card. “I wasn’t sure what to give you so I went with the path of least resistance. It isn’t as thoughtful though…” He read the little annotation you wrote under the pre-written text. He smiled and proceeded to chit-chat the whole time you would spend in the kitchen. 

“So… you and Klein huh?” Said Alex jabbing your side. “It’s nothing like that… we’ve just gotten on better terms.” Your face got hotter. “Yeah, suuuure.” You were packing your things and just about to leave the office when he called your name and when you turned around he gave you a wave and a huge grin. Your heart started to beat faster and that’s when you felt and knew you were in big, big trouble. 

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

masterlist

[eucalyptus-lvs]

Your Girl? - Carmen Berzatto x Reader

When I first started writing this it was going to be a stand-alone, but I could also see it as a pt. 2 to Good Luck Charm. Either way, I hope you enjoy it. If you have any thoughts or constructive criticism it's always appreciated. May not be the most canon portrayal of Carmy, but after S3 I need some happy moments. - Elli <3

TW: None. Maybe a suggestive comment or two.

Walking into The Beef you’re immediately hit with the smell of fresh bread and cooked meat. Before you can even make it to the counter Richie's face breaks into a bright smile as he spots you. "You're not supposed to be in today. Couldn't stay away from me, sweetheart?"

Most people found him to be rough around the edges, maybe even misogynistic, but you preferred to think of him as old-fashioned. 

The two of you grew close in the time you spent working together.

Although you started as a dishwasher, Mikey had switched you to the front after two weeks of working there when Richie almost made a kid cry for trying to order a hotdog with ketchup. You quickly learned that your new job was about keeping the peace and making things run as smoothly as the people around you would allow. 

Regardless, it was hard to see the man in front of you as a bad guy after watching him get on his knees to put a Hello Kitty bandaid on Eva's hand at a time when she was adamant about being “champion of the monkey bars”.

"Oh, I never wanna be away from you, honey." You share a laugh. "I just came by to drop something off for the boss. Then I'll be on my way."

"He's in the back if you wanna go on through."

"So I can get sucked into the vortex of chaos on my day off? I don't think so." The fighting has slowed down a bit at the restaurant, but it was still pretty busy. Guaranteeing that the energy level was always high. 

"Good point. I’ll tell him you're here." 

“Thanks, Rich.” You move to stand off to the side in a less crowded part of the restaurant. Taking out your phone, you check the time as you watch him retreat into the back. 

If you make this quick you can still get to the coffee place a couple blocks over before it closes for the day.

After a moment you see them both enter from the kitchen. Richie goes back to the register to attend to the customers, while Carmy heads your way.

"Hey. Richie said you had somethin' for me?" Wiping his hands on a towel and tossing it over his shoulder as he approached you. “Everything okay?”

"Yeah. I was getting ready this morning and saw this on the bathroom counter." You reach into your pocket to pull out a gold chain.

His gold chain.

Dangling between you both from your fingers.

"Shit, I don't even remember takin' it off." Grasping it from your hand to undo the clasp and put it on.

"That's because I did right before we got in the shower. I'm surprised it's still together with all the wear and tear you put it through."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for droppin’ it off. I coulda stopped by tonight though. After I close up?" The phrasing of his statement sounding more like a question.

"I was close by. I wanted to try that coffee shop down the street I was telling you about." You took a step toward him and whispered, "As for tonight, you know I want you over, but we're gonna have to make an effort to get some actual rest before we both develop a sleeping disorder."

"You seem to be doin’ just fine.” A grin broke out on his face.

"Did you forget the part where I told you I have to go get coffee?" You reminded disapprovingly.

"Okay, I get it. Sleep sounds really fuckin' good right now actually." He ran a hand through his hair as he paused. "You eat somethin' already?"

You break eye contact to look around the room aimlessly and avoid the question until your eyes land back on him. “....Huh?”

“We talked about this. You can’t starve yourself all day and then do your fuckin’ girl dinner shit when you get home.”

“First of all, you will never know the joys of girl dinner because you refuse to participate. It's the most well-balanced meal I'm capable of. Second, I've been running around all day and I forgot.”

“First of all, the fact that you call a plate with butter noodles, kimchi, a hard-boiled egg, and some red cherries ‘the most well-balanced meal you're capable of’ is scary. It's really fuckin’ scary. Second, I know you're busy. I'm a chef! What kinda asshole do I look like lettin’ my girl eat like that because you refuse to let me cook you somethin’?” He shot back, growing exasperated with the topic at hand.

“It literally covers all the major food groups! Wait-” You paused, tilting your head. Only just processing his full statement. “your girl?”

You can see the exact moment he processes it too. His eyes widened in panic. “Uh I-I meant, I mean we’ve kinda been-”

“Oh my god, you poor baby boy. You're blushing.” A smirk grows on your face.

“Fuck off” His eyes focusing on the floor, shaking his head. The heavy blush spread up his neck as well as his face.

“I'm afraid I can't do that at this particular moment, but maybe we both will later after you ask me to be your girlfriend.” You replied in a sing-songy voice. “Yknow for future reference you typically ask someone when you want to be exclusive with them.”

He leaned closer to you, eyebrows furrowing as he lowered his tone so he wouldn't be overheard. “I-I thought we've been exclusive. I haven't seen anyone else since you.” 

“I haven't either, but I guess if you want it to stay that way you're gonna have to ask me and make this official. Unless,” You lean away, kissing your teeth as you cross your arms. “you're too scared?”

“You know what? I'm not gonna ask.”

“Wow, you've already backed out. You sure there's not some other girl I should know about?” You mocked, knowing he barely had the time and energy to keep up with you. 

Even if he did, you knew there was no one else. Spending most of your nights at each other's place testing new recipes or wrapped up together in the early hours of the morning before the restaurant needed attending. 

That's why it never occurred to you to define what this is. He was making an active effort to have a life outside of the restaurant and he was doing it with you. 

That doesn't mean you couldn't enjoy making him sweat a little though.

“What?! No. I'm not asking because you're gonna ask me.”

“I’m gonna ask you to be my girlfriend?”

“No, smart-ass.” He let out a breathy chuckle, gesturing vaguely. “Your yknow- boyfriend.”

“Well, that's never gonna happen.” You stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why not?”

“Because you're right. I should get a boyfriend that’ll take care of me and all my food-related needs.” Shrugging your shoulders you wave a hand in the direction of the register. Shouting, “RICH-”

“Stop.” He cut you off, raising his hand. “That's not even funny.”

“Oh, come on. It's a little funny.” You giggle, nudging his arm with your hand.

Shaking his head, he leads you to a table to sit down. “I've gotta get back in there.” Leaning close to your ear he whispers, “Sit tight while I make somethin’ for my girl.” Cupping the underside of your jaw with his calloused hand, he places a quick kiss on your cheek before walking off. 

You smile as you watch him disappear past the doors and back into the kitchen. 

You weren't gonna make it to the coffee shop today, but that was okay. Maybe you could go together on your way to work tomorrow.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Richie came up and put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing. “You call for me?”

You put your hand over his and squeezed back. Looking up at him you replied, “Just fuckin’ with Carm.”

“Good girl.”

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 2: LIKE A MOUSE IN A HOUSE FULL OF CATS

synopsis: it's your first time deviant hunting with hank and connor. and gavin is an asshole – obviously.

word count: 3.4k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: next chapter will have more one-on-one time with connor and original scenes i promissseee <33

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

As soon as you shut off the ignition, Hank turns to Connor in the backseat. “You – stay here.” He points at you. “And you – if you’re gonna vomit, don’t do it on my shoes.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”  You hop out of the driver’s seat, and Hank follows suit.

News reporters and concerned neighbors are swarming behind the digital yellow line that reads POLICE LINE: DO NOT CROSS. As you pass, you’re bombarded by “News Channel Five –” “Joss Douglas, for Channel Sixteen –” “Gordon Skalfe from DJE News –” “Can you confirm this is a homicide?” “Siobahn Gonzalez for SKE News –” “Is it true that an android was involved?” 

You just duck your head and wave them off, mumbling “No questions, no questions.”

Once you cross the yellow line, you hear a car door open and close behind you. You glance back and see Connor maneuvering his way through the small crowd and fight the urge to roll your eyes. Aren’t androids supposed to do as they’re told…?

A police-assistant android is standing behind the line and stops Connor when he tries to pass. “Androids are not permitted beyond this point.”

“Connor’s with me and Lieutenant Anderson,” you call over your shoulder. When you look forward, Hank’s looking at you. You shrug in response, unsure.

He looks over your shoulder at Connor. “What part of ‘stay in the car’ didn’t you understand?”

“Your order contradicted my instructions, Lieutenant,” Connor says, still with that lost puppy dog look on his face.

Hank just grits his teeth and deals with it. “You don’t talk, you don’t touch anything, and you stay outta our way. Got it?”

“Got it!” Connor chirps. 

You huff out a quiet laugh at his kinda-sorta enthusiasm, but it’s immediately silenced when you walk into the house. It reeks like hell, and is way past the sickly-sweet smell of death – it’s just straight pig shit in there.

Chris laughs, holding an N95 mask out to you. “You good?”

“Expected it like one would expect thunder in the clear sky.” You hold up a hand, turning the mask down. “That is to say: I did not.”

Chris smiles, shaking his head and tucking the mask back into his jacket. “You’ve got a way with words, you do.”

“Leave me be.” You smile and wave him away. 

Instead, you turn to observe the crime scene. You’ve been on homicide scenes before, but never like this. A man’s corpse is propped up against the far wall of the living room, fat and bloated and half-decayed. Blood streaks the wall behind him, both in an organic fashion and in precise lettering: I AM ALIVE. 

You half-listen to the debriefing: Carlos Ortiz, been here about three weeks, a kitchen knife, possible android involvement. It’s a puzzle that you don’t have the right experience to solve.

When you look over at the knife, Connor’s kneeling over it. His LED flickers, then he reaches down, swabbing blood with his two first fingers. He brings it to his mouth, and –

“Стой! Wait –!” 

You cringe and bring a balled-up fist to your forehead. A low groan escapes your throat and you can do nothing but watch as Connor licks his fingers.

“Ugh, Jesus!” Hank sighs. “What the hell are you doing?!” 

“I’m analyzing the blood.” Connor holds up his bloody fingers. “I can check samples in real time.”

He turns to you, still with blood on his fingers. “I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you both.”

You drag your hand down your face. “Just give us enough time to look away when you do it next.”

“No, actually,” Hank says. “Don’t put any more evidence in your mouth. Got it?”

“Got it.” Connor looks down at his fingers, his LED flickering as he analyzes the blood. Then, he nods to himself, as if confirming something.

“Christ, this goddamn android…” you mutter to yourself.

You try to busy yourself with looking away from the body, and getting away from the smell. You walk down the hall leading to the bathroom. As you walk, you notice something just barely sticking to the bottom of your shoes. 

When you look down, you expect blood, but there’s nothing there. Unless…?

You hold out your left hand, your thumb and index extended, and close your right eye. With your polymer retina active, the world turns into monochrome-blues. Your eyes turn to the floor, where speckles of mystery liquid lead to the end of the hall. (And you really hope it isn’t semen.)

You relax your hand and open your right eye. Sure enough, there’s nothing there to your naked eye.

You turn into the living room and call out “Connor! I need you to look at something for me.”

He turns the corner, raising an eyebrow when he sees you and an empty hall. “Yes, Officer? What do you need me to look at?”

You step to the side so that you’re not standing on the mystery liquid. “There’s something on the floor. I can’t identify it, and I can only pick it up with my polymer retina.”

Connor crouches and looks at the floor. “Yes. There’s Thirium here.”

“Thirium?” You echo. “Like, android blood?”

“Yes.” He smiles a bit, like he’s impressed. “Good work, Officer.”

You turn and scratch your cheek, huffing a little through your nose. “I’ve just been on a few cases like this before, that’s all. You’re acting like you’re in the seventh skies about it.”

“To say that I am would be to imply I’m able to feel excitement,” Connor says. “I am not.”

You furrow your eyebrows as your suspension of disbelief is shattered. The belief that Connor wasn’t an unfeeling robot – just a regular guy with that somewhat-cute, somewhat-maddening lost look. Maybe a bit clueless when it comes to social cues, sure, but really endearing when he does miss them.

“Right.” You draw your lips into a thin line. “Then, uh… just go back to whatever you were doing.”

“I’m nearly done figuring out what happened. I’d like you to be there to confirm.” Connor stands, then walks back into the living room without waiting for you.

You follow him, then prop yourself up in a corner to watch Connor conduct his business. He moves about the crime scene like a well-seasoned professional, rattling off his theory like he was there when the killing occurred. Once he’s done, he turns to Hank, as if waiting for approval.

Hank’s chin dips as he shrugs with his arms crossed. “Seems plausible. Doesn’t mean that we know why the android defended itself, though.”

“It could be from emotional shock,” you say, surveying the kitchen. “Or, the hit from the bat could’ve disrupted the biocomponents in a way that was just so, so that deviancy was…” you shrug. “Activated? Unlocked? I don’t know how to describe it.”

“A plausible theory,” Connor says. 

“We’re havin’ a nice time talkin’, but where the hell did the android go?” Hank mutters, eyes flitting around the house.

“I have an idea.” Connor’s gaze turns to the ground, then he starts to follow the invisible Thirium trail. 

Hank moves so that he’s standing next to you. “Where the hell is it going?”

“Following a trail of blue blood,” you say.

He looks over at you and scoffs lightly. “How do you know that?”

You smile and hold up your left hand – the one with your polymer glove. The star retracts, exposing the wires that slither out and move with minds of their own. 

Hank makes a sound of disgust, turning away. “Put that thing away.”

“Yes, sir.” You chuckle lightly and close your fist, causing the wires to go back.

When you turn back to the kitchen, Connor’s come back and picked up a chair. He starts to walk away, but Hank stops him.

“Hey-hey-hey!” Hank says. “What’re you doin’ with that chair?”

Connor looks over at Hank, then continues walking. “I’m going to check something.”

“Huh…” Hank turns to you and gestures at where Connor disappeared around the corner. “Gonna check something.”

You smile lightly. “The attic, for ghosts.” 

Hank huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Yeah, because Detroit has a ghost problem.”

“Maybe it does!” You laugh. “You never –”

Both you and Hank’s heads snap up as something clunks above you. There’s footsteps – two sets of them. You exchange a look with Hank and both set off to the attic opening.

“Connor!” Hank calls. “What the fuck is goin’ on up there?”

Silence for a moment. Your breath stills in your lungs.

Then, Connor: “It’s here, Lieutenant!”

“Holy shit.” Hank looks at you, then behind him. “Chris, Ben – get your asses over here now! C’mon!”

The cold of the observation room is only accentuated by the hot coffee in your hands, but you honestly think you’d fall asleep without it.

You can feel Gavin’s hard stare switching between drilling into the back of your skull and looking into the interrogation room. You’re just sitting at the desk, taking notes – which, so far, is as follows: No response to question. No response to question. Interrogator (Lt. Hank Anderson) showing signs of frustration. No response to physical aggression. No response to question.

You look up just as soon as Hank calls it quits and storms out of the interrogation room. He buzzes into the observation room, his footfalls heavy and frustrated.

“We’re wastin’ our time interrogating a machine – we’re gettin’ nothing outta it!” He practically shoves himself into the chair beside you.

“Could always send pinko here to rough it up a little.” Gavin tilts his head, looking over at you. “After all, it’s not human. And I doubt they would have an issue taking a hammer and sickle to the android.”

You sigh and set your data pad down with more force than necessary. “I’m not a sadist, Reed. And even if I was, I wouldn’t take it out on a suspect.”

“Additionally, androids don’t feel pain,” Connor chimes in. “You would only damage it, and that wouldn’t make it talk. Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when in stressful situations –”

“Okay, smartass,” Gavin cuts him off. “What should we do, then?”

Connor blinks, his eyes flitting between you, Hank, and Chris. It’s almost like he’s nervous to suggest that “I could try questioning it.”

Gavin laughs that asshole-ish laugh. You look over at Hank. He’s already looking at you. You glance back at Connor and shrug.

Hank sighs. “What do we have to lose?” He looks back at Connor. “Go ahead. Suspect’s all yours.”

Connor peels back the artificial skin on his hand, revealing porcelain-white plastic, and presses it to the biometric scanner, then steps through the door. 

You shudder. “That always creeps me out.”

Chris mutters under his breath in agreement.

You lean back in your chair and ready your data pad as Connor enters the interrogation room. He sits across from the deviant, then leans forward as he analyzes him. 

You lean over towards Hank and mutter, “Is someone taping this?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles back. “Why?”

“He has a tendency to talk quickly.” You glance down at your data pad, then back up at Connor. “I’m worried he’ll talk too fast for me to record.”

“Didn’t realize the DPD’s turning officers into stenographers,” Gavin says under his breath.

You don’t look back at him as you speak. “I heard that.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure your wire heard it, too.”

Hank holds up a hand. “That’s enough.”

You look forward through the double-sided mirror into the interrogation room. Your hands are ready, resting on the digital keyboard of your data pad. 

“I detect an instability in your program,” Connor says. “It can trigger an unpleasant feeling, like fear in humans.”

Connor leans forward, trying to look at the deviant, whose eyes remain firmly on the table. You record in your data pad: Switching interrogators. New interrogator is Connor (android, model RK800). No response to question about deviancy-induced fear.

Connor’s eyes flit down to the android’s arms. One of them is split open, exposing bent plastic and sparking wires. The other is littered with dozens of cigarette burns.

“You’re damaged.” Connor’s voice is turning a little colder. “Did your owner do that? Did he beat you?”

Again, no response. You record: No response to question about injuries/damage.

“You’re accused of murder,” Connor says, his voice turning colder still. “You know you’re not allowed to endanger human life under any circumstances. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

You record: No response to pressure with blame.

Connor shifts in his seat, like he’s frustrated. You feel for him. It’s like talking to a brick wall in there.

He leans forward, his jaw set as he stares at the android. “If you don’t talk, I’m going to have to probe your memory.”

“No!” The deviant immediately barks, his head snapping up to look at Connor. “No, please don’t do that.”

You exchange a glance with Hank, then look back into the interrogation room. When you do, it’s like the android is looking through the double-sided mirror at you. His lips are parted, his expression shocked and pained. Dried blood paints his face but, in the harsh fluorescent light, it looks wet and fresh.

You find it hard to record. You just want to watch the interrogation, be fully immersed in it. But, still: Verbal and physical response to threat to probe memory. Shows fear – possible C-PTSD.

He shakes a little as he turns back to Connor. He can’t meet Connor’s gaze.

“Wh… what’re they gonna do to me?” His voice is soft and fearful. “They’re gonna destroy me, aren’t they?”

Connor doesn’t skip a beat, his voice and expression neutral and indifferent. “They’re going to disassemble you and look for problems in your biocomponents. They have no choice if they want to understand what happened.”

The android’s eyebrows crease. “Why did you tell them you found me? Why couldn’t you just have left me there…?”

You record: Continuation of expression of fear. Possibly trying to make Connor sympathize.

“I was programmed to hunt deviants like you,” Connor says evenly. “I just accomplished my mission.”

The deviant clenches his hands into fists, then relaxes them. He looks down at the table, then up at Connor. “I don’t wanna die.”

You record: Self-soothing with repetitive actions. Expresses fear of death.

Connor leans forward, his voice stern yet… somewhat understanding as he speaks. “Then talk to me.”

“I…” The android’s voice shakes. He squeezes his eyes shut, hunching over and closing in on himself. “I can’t.”

Connor blinks. Once, twice.

Then, he hits the table with his fist and barks out “You’re a machine. You were designed to obey, so obey!”

The deviant flinches – a response you record. Androids aren’t supposed to have any response to loud noises.

“Tell me what happened,” Connor says. 

After a few seconds, it’s clear he’s not getting through. He changes his approach so that he’s quieter, more emotional with his facial expressions.

“Listen,” he says softly. “I’m not judging you. I’m on your side. All I want is the truth.”

You record: Connor changes tactics. Before – hard, demanding. Now – more expressive, softer. Possibly manipulating suspect to extract confession.

He reaches across the table, his hand just barely shy of touching the deviant’s. “Confess and I’ll protect you. I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

The android’s voice is soft but sure as he speaks. “He… he tortured me every day. I did whatever he told me, but – but there was always something wrong.”

Connor gives an encouraging nod.

“A-and then one day…” his voice shakes. “He took a bat, and started hitting me. Over, and over. For the first time I felt…”

His shoulders tense. “Scared. Scared he might destroy me, scared I might die. So I… I grabbed the knife, and I stabbed him in the stomach.”

Connor continues staring. A silent motivation for the deviant to continue talking.

“I felt better,” he says. “So I stabbed him again, and again. Until he collapsed. There was blood everywhere…”

You look down at your data pad and start writing, partially tuning out the rest of the interrogation. You had what you needed. You record: Confession successfully extracted by Connor. Hypothesis confirmed – deviancy triggered by physical violence. Follow-up on related cases.

Connor’s voice causes your head to snap up and look into the interrogation room. “When did you start feeling emotion?”

The deviant’s lips tremble before he speaks. “Before, he used to beat me and I never said anything. But one day I…”

He shakes his head. “I realized it wasn’t fair!” He spits out the word like it causes a foul taste on his tongue.

“I felt… anger.” His jaw clenches. “Hatred… And then I knew what I had to do.”

Connor moves away from the deviant and turns to look into the double-sided mirror. “I’m done.”

“Well, shit.” Chris leans back in his chair. “Look at that.”

He stands and presses his hand to the biometric scanner, then enters the interrogation room. Gavin, then Hank, then you filter in after. You stick close to the door, as you’re only armed with a data pad and your wits. (You’re a cybersecurity officer – of course they wouldn’t give you a gun.)

Gavin passes by Connor, sneering at him. He turns to the deviant. “Chris, lock it up.”

Chris moves over to the android. He unclips a key from his tac belt and unlocks the android’s handcuffs from the table. Chris takes his arm, and –

“Leave me alone!” His voice trembles as he speaks. He presses his arms closer to his body. “Don’t touch me.”

“The fuck are you doing?” Gavin snaps at the deviant. “Move it!”

“Hey, c’mon now,” Chris says, continuing to try to force the android out of his seat. “Don’t be difficult – it’ll only make things harder.”

“No, don’t touch me!” He cries, cowering away from Chris.

You look over at Hank while Chris continues to struggle. You whisper, “Hank?”

He turns his head towards you, but doesn’t take his eyes off what’s happening in front of him. He holds a hand out towards you, as if telling you to not intervene. 

“You shouldn’t touch it,” Connor cuts in. “It’ll self-destruct if it feels threatened.”

“Stay outta this, got it?” Gavin snaps. “No fuckin’ android is gonna tell me what to do!”

“Connor’s right,” you say. “I want this one alive. A corpse is of no use to me, or the rest of the department.”

“It wouldn’t be a corpse! It would be scrap metal!” Gavin says. “And it’s not alive – so just shut your fuckin’ mouth, both of you!”

He turns to Chris. “You gonna move this asshole or what?”

Chris is still struggling to pull the android out of the chair, or literally in any other way. “I’m trying!”

“I can’t let you do that!” Connor storms over, tugging Chris off the deviant. He almost looks… angry. “Leave it alone, now!”

Chris stumbles back, and Gavin draws his gun and steps forward to take his place. 

“I warned you, motherfucker!” He growls out.

You balk. “Gavin!”

Hank cuts through the room with “That’s enough!”

Gavin’s jaw clenches. He glances over at Hank, then back to Connor, who is staring, unshaken, down the barrel. 

“Mind your own business, Hank,” he says lowly. 

“I said –” Hank pulls his own gun, keeping Gavin in his sights “– that’s enough.”

Gavin’s eyes flit between Hank, Connor, and Chris, but they settle on you. You, who’s standing quietly in the corner, clutching your data pad to your chest. (Christ, leaving Chelomey was a mistake…)

“Fuck…” he mutters under his breath. He holsters his gun, turning to leave. “Fuck!”

You step out of the way as Gavin storms out. You look over your shoulder, watching as the door shuts behind him. 

When you turn back, Connor’s kneeling by the deviant, a calming hand extended. 

“Everything is alright,” he says. It’s the most compassionate you’ve heard him. “It’s over now. Nobody is gonna hurt you.”

He looks up at Connor, his LED flickering between yellow and red. Eventually, his LED settles on yellow, and he nods slowly. 

Connor stands and turns to Chris. “Please, don’t touch it. Let it follow you out of the room, and it won’t cause you any trouble.”

The deviant stands slowly, a bit wobbly on his feet. When he passes Connor, he whispers something you can’t quite hear – but his LED turns blue, as does Connor’s. You hope it’s helpful. 

You watch as Chris leads the android out of the interrogation room and sigh. Your fingers drum against the back of your data pad in an unsteady rhythm. 

“Well.” You look down at your notes. “This will make for a fun report.”

[hannahbarberra162]

Country Mouse, City Mouse Chapter 2

Now on Ao3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Chapter 2 - Oh, Fiddleheads.

“Would you like to view the accommodations of the castle?” Mihawk addressed you, after completing a tour of his farm. You were a little impressed, he hadn’t done a terrible job. Especially since this looked like his first foray into farming. You’d definitely seen worse. He was a man of few words, telling you only the names of the fruits and vegetables he’d planted. That’s ok, you didn’t mind silence either. You were sitting on your haunches and making a rough sketch of the farm with paper and pencil you’d had in your sack. You stood up and said “sure enough.”

The afternoon sun had come and gone, and you were hungry. “By the way,” you said, walking towards the castle “I’m not much of a cook. I can grow your food but I cain’t cook it. Er, not well by any means. I can try, but you might not like the results.”

“It is no matter. A cooking schedule has already been established. Perona and I switch off, as Roronoa is also…not inclined towards cooking.”

“Oh, there are other folks here? And they don’t help you on the farm?”

“Roronoa is dedicated only to his training. Perona prefers to remain in the castle.”

“Oh, she’s what I call an indoor cat. Ain’t nothing. Takes all types to make the world run.” With that, you continued walking in silence together. You didn’t feel the need to say anything and neither did he. Walking along together, you occasionally pointed out wild edible flora. “Let’s keep our eyes on that fiddlehead fern. Once they’re ready, they taste great sauteed.” Mihawk looked over at the fern but said nothing. 

Upon reaching the castle, he opened the large door with ease. “After you,” he said gesturing inside. It was a grand place, you supposed, all bricks and tall ceilings. “There are many unused rooms inside the estate, you may select whichever suits you.”

“Oh no need, I’ll just be here to eat. Maybe to bundle vegetables when the harvest comes.”

“What do you mean.” he said the question as a statement, as though the thought of not living in the castle was unfathomable.

“This ain’t my kinda place. Too grand for the likes of me,” you said with a kind smile. “I saw you have a shed out by the farm. I’ll live in there. Nice ‘n comfy.”

“The garden shed is not a suitable accommodation.”

“That’s fine, I don’t mind hunkerin’ down outdoors. Weather seems fine tonight.”

Mihawk sputtered. You’d rather sleep in the grass than in his grand castle? 

 “You alright there, Boss? We already fightin’ each other?”

“There is no fight. If you wish to live in the shed or outside like the animals, you may do as you please. Beware the humandrills. I will give you no further warnings.”

“Thank you kindly.”

Mihawk POV

You did know your craft of farming. He enjoyed listening to you talk about the wild vegetables and their practical applications. You did not feel the need to prattle on when there was nothing needing to be mentioned, something he appreciated. You had a certain spark that made everything more interesting. It was charisma, he realized. Not like Shanks, who weaponized it to manipulate those foolish enough to fall for it. You were artless in your charming personality and it shined through your words and actions. You were not unpleasant to be around, which Mihawk appreciated.

He was going to show you around the castle when you told him your preposterous idea of living outside in the shed. He had never heard of such nonsense. But you were an adult woman capable of making your own foolish choices. He didn’t have to understand it. 

It was Perona’s turn to cook dinner, and he could smell the stew she was finishing. Perona, as temperamental as she was, had a knack for cooking. It was easier to tolerate her outbursts on a full stomach. He walked you to the kitchen and showed you the attached mess room. Though he had a penchant for eating in the dining room, they most often took their meals in the mess. Perona was floating about, putting the finishing touches into the stew.

“Ooooh, what do we have here?” Perona said as she floated about, encircling you. “Did you finally get a servant like I wanted? This one is dirty. Ew! Make it wash!” Perona said as she grimaced in disgust. You just laughed at her words, taking her insults in stride. You did not even comment on the fact that she was floating about with her hollows following.  

“Ain’t no servant, but I am dirty, no denyin’ that. I’m Y/N, I’m workin’ the farm for a few. You must be Perona. Heard a lot about you, but didn’t do you justice. Why you’re as beautiful as the day is long,” you said, tilting your head to the side and smiling. You had quickly surmised the way to Perona’s heart - through her ego. 

“Ah, don’t be so silly! In these old rags? I’m usually so much cuter!,” Perona was waving you off while smiling and blushing. 

“No, I mean it. I’ve never seen hair like yours before - just the crowning jewel of your look. You must tell me how you get it that way.”

Mihawk would rather eat Roronoa’s cooking than hear about Perona’s hair care routine…again. But the two of you were having a spirited conversation as the table was being set. He noticed you correctly placed the plates, bowls, cutlery and glasses according to the rules of etiquette. Roronoa joined the rest of you in the dining area. He grunted as a means of expression.

“Roronoa, this is Y/N. She is aiding my work on the farm.”

“ ‘M Zoro,” he said, sitting down to eat the plated food.

“Nice to meet you Zoro,” you answered. Though when you said it, it had an amusing twang. It sounded more like “Zoh-roh.” Roronoa said nothing and you didn’t engage with him further.

Dinner passed easily between the four of you. You talked with Perona about various topics he found exceedingly tedious. However, he was pleasantly surprised to see your table etiquette extended past table settings. He had been subjected to Roronoa’s unrefined eating style, often eating without utensils. Perona would talk with her mouth full of chewed food, a truly odious habit. You, however, held all your utensils correctly, cut your meat with the knife in your right hand, chewed with your mouth closed, and had placed a handkerchief in your lap as a napkin. Mihawk was pleased to see that there was at least one other person on the island he could bear to eat near.

After the meal, you helped clean up alongside Roronoa. Mihawk poured himself a glass of wine, and offered you one as well. You accepted, and he poured glasses for Perona and Roronoa as well. He felt it was acceptable to have a toast to new beginnings. He handed you your glass and raised it. You did the same. 

“May our harvests be bountiful and may we have the time to enjoy it.”

You smiled, and gently clinked your glass against his. Roronoa chugged his entire glass in one go. Perona sampled the wine and stuck out her tongue, declaring that it wasn’t “sweet enough.” You sipped gently and thanked him for the glass. Hopefully the humandrills didn’t kill you tonight, he thought to himself. You were becoming rather useful to have around.

[countrymusiclover]

1 - First Name Basis

Part 2

Feisty Coffee Girl

Tag list - send an ask to be added

Seattle is known for one thing: tons of rain and anyone who comes here always complains about it. Now that's not to say that those who have lived here their whole life don't get annoyed by it too. Nobody likes walking in the rain. Most find enjoyment in it because it means you get to stay in bed all day or you're a farmer and your crops desperately need some water. Anyway to the point of my ranting of rain is that I would find enjoyment in it on a particular morning. The morning I met the particular surgeon who would change my whole life forever….

The morning started out like any other; the news reported a heavy chance of rain. Jumping out of bed I missed my alarm and one of my friends who was supposed to babysit today was running late. Holding my phone up to my ear I was running around like a mad woman. “Caroline, please hurry. I need you to please be here.”

“I'm coming up the stairs now. I got stuck in traffic. Why is today so important exactly?” My best friend from home who I had moved with here asked me.

My sister Izzie and I grew up in a trailer park in Chehalis, Washington. Our mother basically raised us on our own until Izzie told her she wanted to go to medical school. Our mother spent up the money that we had saved for this to some psychics she went to see. I didn’t really understand why she needed the appointments but I could assume it was because both her daughters got pregnant young. Yet only one of us kept the baby….and I was the one who did it. “It is important because my boss said I would be getting my promotion today. The only requirement is that I come in earlier than normal.”

“Okay now I remember. And calm down, I am outside your door.” She knocked on my apartment door three times while I tossed my phone on the coach, heading to open the door letting her inside.

Caroline Brooke, my childhood best friend, smiled at me. Her curly blonde hair falling over her shoulders when she sat down at my kitchen island. “Why don’t use ask your sister to watch Eve?”

“Because she works 40 hr shifts and she’s only just an intern. She can’t afford to miss a day.”

“And apparently neither can you.” Caroline sent me a half glare. “Have you ever thought about giving your mom the spare room so she can watch her?”

Shaking my head I knew she had a good heart but she didn’t grow up around my mother all the time. My mother was happy I kept my baby up until the point when I had started working at the diner near our trailer park and I wouldn’t give her my money that I had earned. “Caroline, I love you. But my mother only cares about herself nowadays.”

“Sorry," I asked. Hey uh we should probably get Eve to school soon.” She clasped her hands together in her lap.

Looking back over my shoulder to the clock I saw it was almost 9:30 and I needed to be at work before 10:15am. Sliding on my feet I went down the short hallway to my daughter’s room creaking it open. “Everly, we need to get going. Caroline is here to take you to school.”

“Okay, mommy.” Everly came out wearing an orange sweatshirt with an orange on the front and some blue jeans and tennis shoes. She ran past me hugging my best friend sweetly. “Caroline!”

Grabbing my bag by the front door I slipped on my brown boots. I had put on my black leggings and a long green sweater that was required for our uniforms at the coffee shop. Caroline walked towards the door with me and so the three of us headed downstairs. Entering the store my boss Mandy came around the back corner. “Stevens, I need you to work the orders for a few hours until our meeting.”

“I'm on it, boss.” I called her from the back room. This had become our busy morning with the heavy rain everyone wanted a warm drink to fight off the cold. Scrambling around with a tray of coffee I handed them to each one in line who had already prepaid.

I heard someone call my name to head back to the front cash register. “Y/n! Somebody’s at the register waiting.” Della, my work friend came around the corner throwing her brunette curly hair in a ponytail switching jobs with me.

Moving back to the register seeing a guy with green eyes and brown hair. He also had a good scruff going on his chin. “Well now my day just got a whole lot better. You’re the first beautiful thing I have found in this city since I flew in last night.”

“Oh wow. I was not expecting this to start my morning off. Uh what can I get you?” I chuckled, tucking some loose hair behind my ear avoiding his gaze.

The stranger sent me a smile. “A bone dry cappuccino. Unless you have any other recommendations.”

“I’ve had the blueberry scones here and they are pretty good.” I tilted my head to the side.

The stranger reached into his jacket pocket. “I’ll take one of those too.”

“That’ll be $8. 05.” I finally lifted my gaze up to his. Blinking my eyes I just stood there for a second as he handed me some cash and I saw it was a twenty dollar bill. “Uh this is too much. I’ll give you change back.”

The stranger sent me a smirk shaking his head no. “You can keep the change, little blonde.”

“The names Y/n for your information since you didn’t choose to read my name tag.” I rolled my eyes at him, slightly turning around to make his coffee. Pouring the different liquids in a cup focused on my task until he spoke up again.

“My name's Mark. Mark Sloan even though you didn’t bother to ask me. “

Putting the lid on the cup I faced him once more sliding the cup to him. Opening the food case I slid the blueberry scone in a paper bag and handed it to him too. “Ah first name basis already. Next thing I know you’ll be asking me out on a date for just giving you your coffee.”

“I mean I am a lot of fun on a date. I could be down if you’re interested, especially for a night in bed.” Mark smirked at me, raising his coffee cup up and taking a long drink.

My face heated up quickly at the way he just blurted that out in public. I haven’t dated anyone since I had gotten pregnant back when I was thirteen. Izzie would get pregnant two years later. I felt it had become too hard to date or all awkward with me having a young kid. “Oh I don’t know about that. I am not great with dates.”

“You seem like you’d be pretty fun to me.” Mark chuckled, picking up his paper bag. He reached across the table writing down something on one of the comment cards we had near the register. He holds out the note in front of me.

I knitted my brows together confused at what he was holding out towards me. “What’s that for you already paid me?”

“It has my phone number on it. If you’re interested you should call me later.” Mark offers still waiting for me to take it from his hand.

I paused briefly just staring into his eyes. He was obviously attractive there was no doubt there. Della rounded the corner tapping me on the shoulder. “Y/n, our boss wants to see us in the back.”

“You seriously think I am going to go on a date with a stranger?” I ignored Della standing there.

Mark kept his gaze focused on mine. “We’re on a first name basis, Y/n. We wouldn’t be strangers if you take me up on my offer right now or sometime later.”

“Y/n?” Della called my name again.

I didn’t turn my head away when I lifted my right hand taking the note out of his hand smiling before Della was tugging me away from him by my forearm. “I’ll think about it. I…I’m coming. Hey I’m coming - I’ll think about it, Mark.”

“I’ll be waiting for your call, little feisty blonde.” Mark chuckled watching me and my coworker going around the corner and he found himself wanting to see you again the next day.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[liightsout]

the blue - part eight

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

✯ summary: the boys head off for the Bahrain GP ✯

✯ pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!oc ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

✯ now playing: halley's comet - billie eilish ✯

✯ series masterlist ✯

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

mattieryan just posted on their story

danielricciardo sent you a message

danielricciardo mattieeeeeee you're killng me here

danielricciardo pretty girl

Liked by adamjames22, danielricciardo and 64 others

mattieryan family

View all comments.

adamjames22 we've lived in the flat for 2 years and this might be the first time you've used the kitchen properly

↳ mattieryan gotta get my muffin fix somehow

↳ danielricciardo what's a boy gotta do to get one of those muffins

↳ mattieryan win a race 🤭

↳ danielricciardo on it boss 🫡

gia.ryan99 thanks for hanging out with me!!

↳ mattieryan any time angel 🫶

Liked by danielricciardo, adamjames22 and 123 others

mattieryan good luck to these two hooligans

tagged danielricciardo and landonorris

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landonorris mattie 😳 you were sent these in confidence 😳 why u gotta do us dirty like this 😳

↳ mattieryan you both look cute!!

↳ landonorris yeah yeah sure 🤨 also adam has told me i'm supposed to say thank you 🙄 so thank you 🙄

danielricciardo thank you mattie 🤍

↳ mattieryan 🤍

adamjames22 what am i? chopped liver?

↳ mattieryan i literally just spent an hour on facetime with you, what more do you want from me? 😐 ur so NEEDY 😐

Liked by user1, user2 and 7432 others

f1paddockgossip New photo of Danny and Lando posted on Instagram earlier today ahead of the Bahrain GP. The photo was posted by the friend of one of the Mclaren mechanics Adam James. Not much is known about the friend, Mattie Ryan, all her social media profiles are on private. A source close to the Mclaren garage tells us that Ricciardo may have a close friendship with the mysterious Brit. Will post any updates when we get them!! xoxo

View all comments.

user1 greaaaaat, Danny's not even been at Mclaren for a week and this girls got her claws in lol

user2 such a cute photo of them!! was she with them? will she be at the race?

↳ user3 adam posted on his story that he had been on ft with her so i assume she's at home? they must have sent her the photo or it's not from this weekend

↳ user2 ohhhh ty for clarifying!

user4 does anyone know what her insta is?

↳ user1 it's mattieryan - but if you want to see more about her you're better off following adamjames22 his account isn't private and he posts about her a lot

↳ user2 stop searching for info on her, it's such an invasion of privacy! if her account is private then we should respect that!

Liked by adamjames22 and 64 others.

user5 surely if she's going to date either of them it'd be lando? he's more her age? danny's gotta be like 6/7 years older than her? bit gross if you ask me

↳ user2 no one asked

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✯ authors note: hey angels! sorry for the delay in getting this posted, i've been super busy last couple days. saw the 1975 on wednesday and noah kahan yesterday so i'm suuuper tired.

i'm also in a state of despair cus danny ric broke down in my hometown yday and was at my local supermarket getting the car fixed and it's just a lil too close to home for me :( :(

hopefully gonna get part nine written tonight/tomorrow so shouldn't have to wait too long.

hope this quick lil social media chap is ok in the mean time! ✯

[simplydannie]

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Under Rageous Velvet || Under Rageous Veneer

First, I want to thank everyone who pepped me up and made feel like a million when I was down❤️ I loved it and appreciated it so, SO much, you have no idea! I love you my pookies ❤️

The twins are on the run yet again from an Under Rageous gang boss: a high priced bounty on their head. All hope seems lost until Branch appears, asking them to trust him. Unfortunately, what he doesn’t know that a quick getaway leads them to a familiar face…A face that churns Branch’s stomach….a face he cannot trust.

Shank made sure the door was locked after the Mistress came in. They discussed their usual court of business….but only after spending an intimate moment together. Was it love? It was more lust than anything. Shank loved the beauty that those in Mount Rageous illuminated. Mistress desired the dark, looming, dangerous feel that the Under Rageous gave off. They were both power hungry, money hungry. They were both ambitious, dedicated, and horrible people….but that’s what made them so perfect for each other.

Mistress sat on top of him as he kissed her neck, “So any word on my little super stars?”

“Wouldn’t have I told you if there was any word?” He replied in between kisses. He could sense the aggravation in her voice. “Don’t tell me you came down here just to discuss business?”

“No. I guess not.” She sighed as he continued kissing her. “I guess your company is quite pleasurable.” Mistress closed her eyes as she enjoyed the sensation of his lips on her…things were getting hot, things were beginning to get serious...

KNOCK. KNOCK.

”Boss?”

Shank growled in disapproval at the sound of one of his henchmen, “Buzz off!” He demanded, “I’m a little busy here!”

”..S-sir…W-we have a sighting…” The fear in the henchman’s voice sounded through the closed door.

“Damn those teens.” Shank grunted through his teeth. Mistress snarled as she got off Shank ...Things were just getting good. He got up and went to open the door, shirt and jacket still off, anger in eyes.

“You better be damn sure, Syth.” He told his henchman. The male Rageon walked in holding a holographic tablet of some sort. Shank leaned in to have a closer look at the image… it was fuzzy, blurry, but he knew who that green swoop of hair belonged to.

“We got our boy. How long ago was this?”

“Our computers just picked it up, but cameras themselves may have picked it up about 30 minutes ago.” Syth replied.

Shank put on his shirt and jacket, he turned to Mistress, “Dead or alive?”

“Alive….for now. Once we obtain him, his sister won’t be far behind. And once Velvet is back in our grasp…do what you want to him.” She fixed up her dress and hair. She then walked up to Shank running a finger along his jawline. “And once that’s all over we’ll continue where we left off.”

He smirked. Looking towards Syth he yelled, “Well! Get to it… NOW!”

Hours. It had been hours. Velvet hadn’t heard any commotion on the other side of the door. Nothing. Sitting by the door, she hugged her knees and rocked back and forth. She really didn’t stop herself from wanting to hurt her brother this time. She wanted to do it, she REALLY wanted to do it.

“What’s wrong with me?” She murmured to herself. Her mind swirled, distorting with reality and what wasn’t….she couldn’t tell anymore. “Vennie?” She called out….silence.

Standing up she went to the door and opened it, “Vennie?” There wasn’t much to their home. The bedroom opened straight into the living room/ kitchen that made up their container home. “Vennie?”….He wasn’t there; she then knew he had ran off. Velvet sat down on the small worn down couch they had, burying her face within her hands.

Stupid! How on Earth am I supposed to protect him from myself, she thought. She realized now that she posed as a more horrid threat to her brother than all of Under Rageous. But what could she do? She couldn’t control it. It’s as if the anger took complete control of her body, but not just her body, her mind. Velvet could see her brother as the rages happened, but she couldn’t stop herself…sometimes the sound of his voice would calm her, would bring her back to this hell of a reality…but this last time it didn’t. She could hear him beg, but she continued, she wanted to continue until he felt the pain she had felt. But that was it wasn’t it? What if one day she never stopped? What if one day she killed him?….She’d never forgive herself if she did.

And now where was he? Running the streets of Under Rageous…while a bounty was on them, while most of Under Rageous knew of their crimes…and probably hated them. But was he any safer with her? Damn it Vennie, she pulled up her hoodie, tucking her bright green hair underneath. She had to go find him, she had to try and better herself…if not for her…for him…for all the crap she put him through. There had to be something, someone that could help with whatever the hell she was going through. She walked out the entrance of their container home and went to find her brother.

The two tiny Trolls stayed huddled inside Veneer's pockets. Tye scoffed on how calm Branch was, “Why are you trusting him? He’s probably going to take us to the Black Market. Sell us! Then we’re done for.” Tye whispered harshly.

“I- I don’t know!” Branch replied.

“I know you know him. How do you know him!”

“I’ll explain later.” Branch replied. He maneuvered himself to peek out Veneer’s pockets. “Yo! Where are we going?”

“Home….I think….I don’t know.” Veneer responded.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” The Troll arched his eyebrow, “I thought you said somewhere safe?”

“I-I did.”

”Then why the change Veneer?” Branch asked.

”Cause I don’t know how safe it will be.” Veneer walked past a couple Under Rageons who didn’t pay him any mind, but the more deeper he went, the more crowded it got, the more he was recognized. He could hear whispers, snarls, and vile laughter. He causually dove into some alley ways to continue his path home…at least he hoped he could get home. The two little Trolls popped out of his pocket and towards the bottom of his boots.

“Admit it green bean! You’re taking us to the Black Market!” Tye expressed. Branch looked at him, mouth gaped open.

”W-what. N-no! I swear!”

“Then why keep us!”

“I-I….” Veneer began to stutter.

An anger came across Tye’s face and voice, “Spill it Rageon!”

“I just wanted to the company okay!” Veneer leaned against the brick wall within the alley and shlumped down towards the ground. He brought his knees towards his chest, a distant look coming to his eyes. Branch approached him…

”Veneer…Where’s your sister?” He finally asked. The Rageon didn’t look the Troll in the eye; he turned his face and gazed towards the ground instead. “Those bruises on your face….did, did she do it?”

“……She didn’t mean too….” The Rageon finally responded.

”What do you mean? What sister doesn’t mean to beat up her own brother?” Branch pressed on. Veneer fiddled with the hem of his sleeves, his feet twitching as he searched for the answer.

“Something is wrong with her…Something I noticed back at the Rage Dome show. She was changing, she was….going crazy. That’s why I had to stop it. That’s why I had to tell everybody about what we did. I thought I was helping her, but now, I’m not so sure I did….”

Branch searched for the right words, “Did it have anything to do with my brother? The essence you were absorbing?”

Tye’s ears twitched, “Brother?….The Troll they kidnapped….They tortured…That was your brother? Why are you still trusting him!”

Branch didn’t know. Something in him told him that he couln’dt leave Veneer…especially not at the hands of death. He looked at the kid…there was something about him…something sad….yet, something familiar.

“Did you know Floyd before everything happened?”

Veneer nodded, “Yes.”

“How?”

“…We found him…”

“Go on.”

Veneer sighed, “He had fallen into one of my traps I set out. The group me and Velvet were part of…our job was to capture Trolls and send them off to the Black Market…”

”See!” Tye pointed out.

”Shh! Go on.” Branch said.

”…Floyd was the first Troll I ever caught. But when I looked at him….he looked….sad…he was grey, colorless.” Branches heart sank as Veneer continued, “I- I couldn’t give him to the Black Market…He needed help. So I convinced Velvet to keep him, hide him away. The group thought I had released him. They gave me a good beating and through me and Velvet back on the streets….But, it was honestly the best thing that happened to us. We became like a small family…we had a family again. Floyd got his colors back….we were happy…until we screwed it up and betrayed him…almost killing him.” Veneer hugged his knees and buried his face away as the tears started pouring out.

Branch had not known about this. Grant it, Floyd would always try to write to the twins during their time in prison, but he would always intercept those letters.

“Let it go Floyd! They tormented you!” Branch would tell him.

“Branch..please just let me explain..”

“Enough Floyd! I have my brother back. I don’t want to lose him again to those tall freaks!…Please..”

And Floyd never brought it up again. Looking at Veneer’s distraught actions, he knew now that they were once a family, even if it was for a short while. Though he admired it, he couldn’t help but feel a ping of jealousy…because that’s what Branch had wanted with Floyd…Veneer’s shoulders shuddered as he continued to cry. The kid felt alone…no Floyd, no sister, no parents it seemed like…perhaps Branch was the closest thing he would have to Floyd, which is why Veneer didn’t want to part with him…at least not yet.

Tye looked between Branch and the Rageon. He could see the sympathy coming across Branch's face. No…that was unacceptable, Rageons were not to be trusted. Whatever this was, the Rageon had Branch under his spell. He went over to the Troll and tugged his sleeve.

“Let’s go before more come. Then we’re really in trouble.” He said.

Branch didn’t budge. He stayed there staring at Veneer. Was this the real Veneer? The kid Floyd had come to know and love? And not the peacock, pretty boy Branch came to hate in Mount Rageous.

”You can go. I’m sorry….I’m sorry for everything…” Veneer mumbled through his tears; he dared not look up at the Troll. He was afraid he would see Floyd in him…then he really wouldn’t want to let him go. Branch looked at Tye, then at Veneer. He let out a sigh and walked towards Tye.

“…Thank you for trying to help me…but I’m sorry….I-I can’t leave him.” Branch admitted.

Tye gaped, “What? You’re really going to take his side?” Veneer peeked, tears still running down his face, eyes red.

“Look. I’m looking for a way out of here. I want to get out and go home. You can come with me…” He looked between Tye and Veneer. “You both can.”

Veneer sniffled, a small smile coming across his face, “Really?” He and Tye responded in unison.

“Yes! What do you say?”

“I-I have family here. I just can’t leave them….” Tye said.

“Then let’s get them! And they can come too. Any Troll, all Trolls we can find. Plus a Rageon….”

“Or two?” Veneer asked. Branch paused, confused at his statement. “I can’t leave Velvet. She…She still needs me…I need her too.” Branch was a little taken back by his request. Veneer had always seemed like the more reasonable one between the two…Velvet on the other hand was different. And now that he had said that something was wrong with her, that she could loose control any moment? Veneer sensed the hesitation in Branch's actions and words.

“If she doesn’t go, then I’ll stay…but I can help you guys escape….If you want of course…”

Branch bit his tongue…He was hoping Veneer wouldn’t have said that…He was hoping he could at least save one twin…but if his sister wasn’t saved, then he’d suffer with her. Should he bring both? Should he risk the safety of the other Trolls to an unstable Rageon? Branch didn’t know what to do or say….instead, his reply was simple…

“…..Okay…” Was all he said.

The conversation was cut short as they heard footsteps echo in the alleyway.

“Hurry!” Veneer opened his pockets for the Trolls to go in. Instead, Tye wrapped his hand around Branch's wrist, wrapped his hair on a far off post, and slingshotted away. Veneer watched as they disappeared.

“Wait!” Branch yelled as Tye tightened his grip.

“Branch?” Veneer called out...the echo of the footsteps grew nearer. He didn’t hesitate, Veneer pulled his red hoodie over his purple beanie and began to walk off. As he neared the exit of the alley, he was blocked by a tall Under Rageon. Veneer attempted a casual avoidance and turned around. More Rageons blocked his path. They all wore dark trench coats over dark baggy clothes. The sides of their heads shaved, only leaving one side of their head full of their stringy hair. They were all pale, with spiral eyes and sharpened teeth, a tattoo running along the side of their head down their neck…a branding to the gang they belonged to ...Shanks.

“Hey there pretty boy.” Shank appeared from the group of Rageons that surrounded him. “Finally, we meet face to face. You and your sister have been putting me through a lot of trouble…Giving me a lot of damn headaches.” He lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke into the air. The sight of him sent shivers down Veneer’s spine…He was menacing, yet walked with power…it was frightening.

“I-I don’t know who you are. W-what did we do to you?” Veneer asked.

“For one, you killed one of my boys back when you guys first arrived down here a couple weeks ago.” Shank’s spiral eyes met Veneer’s giant blue ones…he was terrified…truly terrified.

“I-I…W-we….that was an accident. We….we were trying to defend ourselves.”

Shank held up a finger to silence Veneer, “I don’t give a damn about explanations. Now, I’ll let that slide if you decide to come with us…peacefully of course…We also promise no harm will come to your sister.”

“Velvet?” Veneer’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach…”Y-you have Velvet?”

“You want to see her?…Alive? Then come along with us. There’s an old friend who wants to have a word with you both.” Shank gestured the way through, waiting for Veneer to follow.

“W-who?” He asked.

“Too many questions will definitely get your sister killed….Well.” Shank blew more smoke into the air as he waited for Veneer’s decision ...The young Rageon nodded and began to follow Shank and his men….

….Suddenly a cloud of mist surrounded them out of nowhere, their vision blurred; they gagged as they inhaled the smoke that surrounded them.

”WHAT THE HELL!” Shank yelled.

Veneer was also caught in the smoke, coughing and wheezing for air. He felt hand wrap around his wrist and begin pulling him away. He didn’t know where he was going, he just felt his feet move, his body being pulled. His vision cleared as he was led out of the smoke. The hand that grasped him, the person who was leading him away…

“Velvet!” Veneer exclaimed with a smile, “You’re safe!”

”Of course idiot! Why wouldn’t I be?”

”They said they had you?”

”You REALLY need to stop trusting strangers. You’re not five anymore.” She cried as they began to run.

“How did you do that back there?”

”I found those old smoke bombs you made…I guess eventually they did come in handy…go figure.” She kept pulling Veneer, running faster.

“Where are we going?”

“Home! Where do you think?”

When the smoke cleared, Shank glanced around…the kid was gone, “Damn it! DAMN IT! GO FIND THAT SON OF A BITCH NOW!” He screamed. His men scrambled around before finally heading separate ways out of the alley. “I’m going to kill him. When I have my way with him…I’m going to kill him.”

“Wait…we passed this way already?” Veneer declared as they came to a halt.

“How do you know?”

“That graffiti. We passed by it twice.” He pointed it out.

“We’ve been going in circles!” Velvet exclaimed. “Hell! I don’t know this place of Under Rageous…This way!” She pulled her brother along a narrow part of the alley, “I’m sure we haven’t been this way before.” They ran…left or right? Velvet went right….dead end. She turned back around pushing her brother heading the other direction. This leads to another opening…straight ahead or left? She continued straight….another dead end.

“Shit, shit, shit.” She exclaimed.

”Vels!”

“Venner! Please! We have no way out and you’re worried about me cussing!” She attempted to head back..

”Keep searching! They can’t be far.” Echoes of voices were heard from within the alley. They were out there, they were looking for them…they were cornered, they were trapped.

“What do we do, Vels?” He asked. She looked around where they stood. There was really nothing they could use as a weapon; she looked up at the walls…there was nothing for them to climb up either.

“We fight Ven.”…

PING!

Out of a vent from the ground, a Troll popped out…

”Branch!” Veneer exclaimed. Velvet glanced between her brother and the Troll. Tye appeared next to Branch, an unhappy look in his eyes. The Trolls opened the vent..it was much wider than it appeared on the outside.

“Jump in! Tye says he knows a hideout.” Branch said.

”They’re not going to be happy…” The other Troll mumbled.

“What! Oh hell no! Let’s go back Ven.” She pulled her brother's arm.

“Oh come on Velvet!” Branch exclaimed.

“No! I am not trusting a Troll again!”

”Fine! You go then, but I am not going to let your brother suffer for your stupid mistakes. Ven come on!” Branch exclaimed. Veneer bit his lip. He turned and grabbed his sister's hand.

”Vels, please let’s go!” He begged.

”No!”

“Please!” He casted his bright big blue eyes straight into hers. She tried to avoid his glance, but failed…Funny, anyone who knew them deeply would see that Veneer’s eyes were a tint lighter than hers and that she stood a little bit taller than he did. These were the small things she noticed, but the small things she came to appreciate about her brother. Velvet closed her eyes and sighed.

“Fine.”

They both turned towards the vent the Trolls held open for them. Veneer stretched out his hand for his sister to hold. She grunted, but took his hand…Together they jumped in. Behind them, Tye and Branch closed the vent…they disappeared completely, falling into the depths below the under-city.

The twins screamed as they fell into the dark abyss…it was like a long tunnel, no light shining through.

“Branch! Was this a good idea!” Veneer screamed.

“I’m starting to question that now!”

THUD!

Veneer fell first, hitting the cement hard. He grunted and attempted to stand up before Velvet came falling on top of him…Her fall much lighter and softer.

“Oh! Thanks Vennie!” She smiled.

”Uuugggghhhh.” He groaned. Branch came tumbling down after, landing with a soft thud on Velvet’s stomach.

She grimaced, “Get your stinky butt off me Troll!”

“Calm down princess. Be thankful I came back at all.” Branch scowled.

”Guys please stop.” Veneer moaned. Velvet scooted off of him, causing Branch to roll off her lap and straight towards the ground. Glancing around he noticed Tye was nowhere to be seen.

”Tye? Tye!” Branch looked up from the hole they came down from. Oh no…Did he get stuck up top? “I’m going back guys!”

SWOOSH!

A net made of barbed wire was thrown over the twins, causing Branch to get stuck in the middle. The twins lay flat on their stomach as the wire tightened above them. Whatever movement they made caused the wire to cut in.

“What the hell!” Velvet yelled out.

From the corner of their, Tye appeared embracing himself.

“Tye! Can you help us please?” Veneer begged.

The small Troll shook his head, “I told you they wouldn’t be happy.”

…They heard small footsteps and the chatter of small voices…All around them, small little gray Trolls began to appear…an anger in their eyes as they saw the two trapped Rageons. Branch noticed a variety of Trolls: Pop, Funk, Rock, Country, Classical…and everything in between…their colors gone and lost.

“Oh my gosh…” Branch murmured. He looked up at Tye, “Tell them we’re friends! Please.” He squirmed in between Velvet and Veneer; the twins attempted not to put their weight on the small Troll between them, but that was hard, as the wire began cutting into their skin.

“We will be the judge of that won't we now, mate.” Branch heard a familiar voice…a familiar accent…a sound he thought would be long gone by now. He looked up to see a familiar Troll standing amongst everyone else ...He was easy to distinguish as this Troll still had his colors…The sight of him sent a shiver down Branch's spine, a vile taste coming to his mouth.

“E’llo there mate. Long time no see.” The Troll greeted.

Branch spat to the ground in disgust, “….Creek.”

[comicglitterr0909]

Playing with Shadows (part 2)

William Afton x Fem!Reader Finally I finished part two of playing with shadows, if you haven't read part one then a short lil summary of part one is reader is an fbi agent who is tasked with making William Afton fall for them, and we get to know William and his kids and it ends off with William inviting us over for dinner. Honestly just read part one its easier.

But for those who did!! Heres part two!! Its the last part! Hope you guys enjoy! (2.7k+ words) Warnings: Cussing, a guy being a pervert but nothing happens he just says something creepy.

8:00 am. My alarm goes off and I quickly shut it off, getting up and getting ready a bit faster than normal. Today was the big day after all, I get to have dinner with the Afton family, while also trying to find solid evidence that William Afton is a child murderer. I quickly put on the uniform I have to wear, clipping my nametag on and taking one last look at myself in the mirror. I sigh, fuck, Im an fbi agent, im not supposed to get attached to people, let alone people im investigating. But of course I get attached to a serial killer's family. Well…I guess I don't know for sure if he's a serial killer, there's hope, if he isn't, if the family has just gotten really unlucky then maybe it would be okay? Maybe I could be a part of their family. But, then again, I would have to quit my job as an FBI agent. He definitely wouldn't like me anymore if I told him the only reason I was actually there is because I thought he killed a bunch of kids. Whatever, I need to stop thinking about that, I have a job to do. I grab my car keys and head to Freddys, parking in the parking lot and walking inside. 

I notice the afton kids are already at Freddys, they must’ve spent the night at Williams instead of their moms. Their faces all light up when they see me, Elizabeth runs over and gives me a big hug. “Y/N I missed you! Are you excited to have dinner with us tonight?” She says excitedly, jumping up and down. Evan and Micheal walk over. “Yeah, I’m really excited! What are you guys making for dinner?” I ask them with a grin. Evan giggles. “Daddy told us we had to figure out your favorite food without it being too obvious because he really wants to impress you!” Evan exclaims. A faint blush appears on my cheeks, he wanted to impress me? That's honestly really cute. “Evan you dumb shit, you weren't supposed to tell her that!” Micheal says as he smacks the back of Evans head, Evan starts to cry and runs off. “Oh c'mon now Micheal, go apologize to your brother, he didn’t know any better.” I say crossing my arms, damn I really feel like a Mom right now. “Fineee.” Micheal stubbornly says before running off to find where Evan went while Elizabeth stays by my side as I walk into the kitchen. 

“So y/n what is your favorite meal??” Elizabeth says as she climbs on top of the kitchen counter as I’m putting my waitress apron on. I don’t know why the waitresses have to wear an apron, I don't even cook things, oh well. “Oh uh, I’d probably say like (your fav food)” Elizabeth's eyes light up, she smiles and climbs off the counter. “Okay!!! I’ll go tell Daddy!!” She sprints out of the kitchen to go tell William about my favorite food. God these kids are so sweet, how am I going to abandon them if I have to?? “Are you having dinner with the Aftons?” I turned around and saw Aaron had asked me that. “Oh uh yeah.” “Damn, you must be special, Mr Afton usually is super mean to us, you're like the first one i’ve seen em be nice to.” Well that's pretty interesting, I mean I knew he was extra nice to me but he never seemed like the mean boss type. More like the creepy boss type, but Aaron has worked here for awhile so he wouldn’t lie. That is unless of course, he does lie. I stand there awkwardly nodding before looking away from Aaron. Y’know I think I preferred him when he was high, cause I can tell he’s not right now and he’s giving me pervert vibes. “Yeah… it must be because you're really hot. I mean, if I was the boss I’d have you be my personal assistant so I could stare at your ass all day.” Yup, definitely prefer high Aaron. He moves closer to me, but before he can reach me, William comes up behind him and grabs him by the back of his shirt, lifting him up. Don’t get me wrong, Aaron is like 5’5, super skinny weirdo but William made it look easy to lift him up. “Firstly, Aaron, you're fired, secondly, if I ever see you around y/n and you say that shit to her again, I will beat the everloving shit out of you. Get out of my restaurant.” And with that, William lets Aaron go, and he scrambles out grabbing his stuff and leaving faster than ever. Immediately after he’s out of sight William puts that familiar smile back on his face, walking closer to me and putting his hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay? I had no idea he was such a perv I wouldn’t have hired him.” Fuck, this whole case is turning into a “try not to catch feelings for William Afton/a potential child murderer challenge”. “Yeah, um I’m alright. Thank you.” I say, smiling at him. After I reassure him he lets go of my shoulder. “No problem.” He looks around the kitchen for a moment. “Where is Bethenny, or whatever the hell her name is.” I follow him as he walks to the front door of Freddys, looking out the window for Bitchennys car. It's not there. “Well thats fucking great, I have one employee.” He walks back into the main area with me. “Huh…” He murmurs, I look up at him. “What?” I say as I see Micheal and Evan starting to walk over. “Even though I’m closing Freddy's early today for our dinner, I still have to open it for at least 6 hours. I only have you and me as actual employees and that sure as hell won't work.” Get to the point, Afton, jesus. “Okay?” “Well, why don’t I, just for today, let my kids help run the place? It can’t go that bad can it?” 

Oh it definitely can go that bad. We decided to go through with it, letting a 8, 9 and 16 year old help run a restaurant is a wonderful plan. 

“EVAN NO DON’T EAT THE PIZZA WE HAVE TO BRING THAT TO THE TABLE” Evan is crying because I wouldn’t let him eat the pizza. Micheal is making pizza’s but fucking them up horribly because he’s laughing so hard, Elizabeth is surprisingly the only helpful one right now and is bringing the pizzas to the customers. William is managing the orders and giving us the orders, and I’m micromanaging all the kids and making pizzas at the same time. I guess I did need the apron today. It's a Thursday and Freddy's is unnecessarily packed, the music and the kids yelling and laughing is really not helping with the stress of this all. I quickly shove a pizza in the oven, checking my watch that reads,“5:30pm”. Oh thank god. “30 MINUTES LEFT GUYS WE GOT THIS!” I shout at Micheal, as he nods at me. Evan comes up behind me and steals my phone out of my back pocket. “NO EVAN GIVE IT BACK DAMMIT” Micheal starts laughing again as I chase Evan throughout the entire pizzeria, that is until William grabs Evan and takes my phone from him while laughing. “Hah, here ya go, we got what, 20ish minutes left, I’ll start sending people out.” I let out a relieved sigh, smiling at him before going into the kitchen again. “Alright Michael let's start cleaning this place up.” Micheal, Elizabeth and I all clean the kitchen up, (Extra well since we made more of a mess). William and Evan get everyone out, and just on time, Freddy’s closes. 

“Well done team!” William says, high fiving us all with a cheeky grin. We all cheer and laugh a bit. “Okay, y/n, I’ll give you my address or you can just follow my car with yours, either or?” “Oh I’ll just follow you haha” I already knew his address. So it's easier to just follow. “Sounds good, I’ll see ya in a bit, doll!” He says before getting into his car and starting it. Doll? A pet name? I can’t say I don't like it but c'mon, he’s making it harder to not fall for him. I get in my car and start following him, it takes about 15 minutes before we get to his house. It's a damn nice house too. I park next to his car in the driveway, hoping he wouldn’t mind but then again it's not like his wife parks there. 

“Welcome to my humble abode!” He greets me, opening the door for me as his kids run inside. The inside is just as nice as the outside, they definitely deep cleaned it before I came here but still, it's impressive. William leads me inside, into the kitchen, but before he can say anything Evan walks over and grabs my hand. “Y/n! y/n! I wanna show you my room, come on!!” He says jumping up and down and pulling on my hand. William chuckles. “I’ll start making dinner, the guest has to entertain the kids. I laugh and wave him off before following Evan into his room.

I sit in Evans room talking with him for 20 minutes or so, he is mostly just showing me all his toys and his plushies. To Evans dismay Elizabeth comes in and steals me for her own room tour, her’s is a bit longer since she forces me to play barbie with her.

Micheal comes into her room, but his eyes widen with regret as he sees us playing Barbie. “MICHEAL PLAY BARBIE NOW!” Before Micheal can even react Elizabeth is shoving him into her room and on the floor, and handing him two barbies to act as. Micheal definitely isn't as good at acting as the barbies as I am, then again he’s a guy. “Micheal, you aren’t doing it right, you have a girl Barbie right?” He rolls his eyes. “Yes…” “Then use a girl's voice.” He turns a dark shade of red, clearly embarrassed to have to act like a girl, I’m trying my hardest not to laugh at him. “Fine.” He picks up his barbie and moves it towards the barbie I'm holding. “Hey girl how ya doin?!” He says in a high pitched really girly voice, and, perfect timing, just before he said that William walked in and heard it all. Me and William break and just die of laughter, Micheal is still dark red, the poor kid is just insanely embarrassed, Elizabeth just had her evil smirk on.

After we get done making fun of Micheal, we go downstairs to eat since Wiliam finished cooking. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to act surprised that he made (your fav food). But I choose not to. “Dang this is really good William, I didn’t know you could make anything except for pizza!” I joke with him, he laughs and thanks me.

We all finish eating, and Micheal forces me to play some shooting video game with him, naturally I’m terrible at it, even with having legitimate gun experience, Evan says goodnight to me and runs up stairs to go to bed. We keep playing the game for a while, William letting Elizabeth watch for some reason but whatever. I can tell William isn’t watching the screen, I can feel him staring at me, I try to ignore it the best I can. “Daddy can you come tuck me in, I think I’m going to bed.” Elizabeth promptly says, standing up and beginning to walk upstairs before pausing and turning around. “You too y/n.” She doesn’ even let me argue, she just walks upstairs like the girlboss she is. William chuckles, and walks upstairs with me. We get in Elizabeth's room and William tells her some made up story that puts her right to sleep, I shut off her light and before we can walk downstairs Micheal comes up. “Oh, thanks for hanging y/n, I'm gonna hit the hay.” I smile and give him a side hug, that is surprisingly not awkward. “Alright goodnight Michael.”

And finally, it's just William and I, downstairs, by ourselves. We walked to the front door, he was walking me out but before I left. “Y/n, I need to talk to you about something.” Oh god, is this it? “Yeah? What's up William?” 

“Look, you're my best worker, and currently my only.” He says with a small laugh. 

“And right now you're also, I'd say a good friend. But look. I like you y/n, i’m not going to hide from that, I want us to be more than friends, and to be dead honest with you it's not just like its love. I love you, I want to be with you.” 

Oh shit he said it, what do I do? Fuck wait I have to stick with the plan, no matter my own feelings, I have to… 

“I…I like you to William. But…you have to be honest with me right now, because I know about something you’ve done.” 

After I say that his whole demeanor changes, he looks more scared, wait no, not scared, just protective and maybe a bit worried. 

“What do you know?” 

“What you did to those kids William… I know about it… but… I don’t care, I need you to know that before you try to hurt me too. I don’t care because I love you too.” 

He stands there trying to read me, he looks baffled that I know about it. Which gives me the one answer I really hoped wasn’t the right one. He definitely is a murder.

“I killed multiple kids and you don't care?” And with that, I knew the police would be on their way right now, with the mic I have on my shirt they definitely picked that up. 

“I love you too much to care about that William.” God dammit. I want to forget that I'm an FBI agent, forget that the mic on my body recorded that, forget that police are definitely going to barge in any second now, I want to forget about all that because a part of me actually loves this serial killer, and that's what I hate so much about this. 

“Good.” He says, before he leans in, kissing me passionately. TO be honest it took me a little off guard but hey, I got one chance to kiss this tall hot guy. I'm going to take it, and just as I was giving in more. 

“FBI WILLIAM AFTON YOUR UNDER ARREST FOR THE MURDER OF MULTIPLE CHILDREN PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!” I see my co-workers storm in, grabbing William and handcuffing him, they start asking me if I’m okay and a couple other questions. They take William outside and I follow behind them. William looks utterly confused until I make eye contact with him, that's when it clicks for him. That I set him up, that I lied to him, and that I;ve been an FBI agent this whole time. 

“Y/n, you lying sack of shit!” He yells at me, pissed off as they struggle to shove him in the back of the police car. His window rolls down quickly, they aren't driving away. I feel like I have to talk to him, I owe him maybe just that, even though he's a murderer. And for killing those kids, I don’t feel bad anymore, I guess I lost sight… I forgot all the kids and families he’s hurt. I walked closer to the cop car so we could talk. 

“William, it's for your own good.” He laughs, he’s obviously still mad but he's grinning, the same evil grin that he never hides. “I could have gotten away with it. I would have gotten away with it, if it weren’t for you, y/n.” He angrily says to me. “Right. But you didn’t get away with it, and this is just karma, William.” William keeps glaring at me, still smiling though. The officer gets into the driver's seat of the car, putting it in drive, starting to slowly drive off. 

“I always come back y/n!” He shouts as I walk with the car, matching its slow pace.

“No William, not this time. Not anymore.”

HOPE YOU ENJOYED GUYS SORRY THAT IT TOOK SO LONG IM REALLY BUSY WITH UNIVERSITY <33

[h-c-u]

No longer a secret pt 2

Summary: Just... A healthy couple being a couple... Supporting each other and living a soft, slow domestic life.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader

W/C: 2.9k

Rating: PG, age gap

TWs: none

A/N: It was supposed to be a one-shot, but oops, I slipped and fell on part 2. Also - could I describe the whole recipe cause I know it like the back of my hand? You bet. So, if anyone wants a recipe for a lamb rack in a red-wine glaze - hit me up :) Also-also - there will be a part 3!

Taglist: @crimeshowjunkie

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | List of tags | Playlist for the series

You always felt safe in the car with him, and even though in the beginning he was riding like a maniac, with the progress of your relationship - it slowly died down, and when one morning you asked him about it, he simply replied "How could I risk putting the most important person in my life in any danger?", like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and even though he still enjoyed the speed, he wasn't doing any risky maneuvers when you were with him. 

The whole ride to the hotel was quiet, but it was far from awkward... You were staring out the window, deep in your thoughts, with one hand under your chin and the other on his thigh, where your fingers intertwined with his, and every time he was changing gears, he moved both of your hands to the stick, not wanting to let you go even for a second. 

When the car was parked, he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a small kiss to it, before you left the car, and when you did, you easily slipped under his arm and wrapped yours around his hip. Here you didn't have to be so careful, because the hotel was occupied only by the Mercedes team, so even if anyone saw you two, you seriously doubted that they would leak the information about who their boss was with... And since this secret had an expiration date in the near future, you felt comfortable enough lowering the walls here and there. 

- I think I've come up with a rough plan... - you said when you were in the elevator. - It's mostly bullet points, and there is a lot of technical and legal research in front of me, but I'm already excited. - you looked up, and you could see that he was already excited with you, even though he had a whole race to think of.

- Do you want to run it by me now? - he asked, and you shook your head. 

- Not yet... I will in a few days though. - you wanted to make sure that everything was as perfect as possible before you shared the details, and for that, you needed more time. And you didn't want to burden him with anything more this close to the race. - But first dinner... How hungry are you? - you asked because you wanted to estimate how much time you could spend on preparing food.

- Not that much... And the work shouldn't take me more than 2 hours, most likely less. After that, I'm all yours. - he smiled and leaned in to kiss the top of your head before the elevator door opened. 

It didn't take you long to get to the room, and when Toto almost immediately started working from the kitchen island, you took a quick shower first. 

- I'm stealing one of your shirts with full intentions of staining it! - you shouted from the bedroom, even though he told you times and times again that if you wanted something of his, you could just take it. 

- Go for it! - he shouted back, and you couldn't help but smile when you took one of his blue shirts and put it on. You left three top buttons open, because you were still hot after the shower. You also tucked the front of the shirt behind a band of your shorts and rolled up the sleeves, so you could actually do things with your hands. 

Before you got to cooking, you came up behind Toto who was studying a specific graph on his screen, wrapped your arms around his abdomen, and pressed your cheek to his back. He instinctively covered your hand with his, not looking away from the laptop. Finding a rhythm with him was easy, almost natural. Sure, you had some disagreements, but nothing serious enough to put a wedge between you two... And it helped that both of you craved physical affection because there didn't have to be any reason behind a hug, a kiss, or a simple touch, just like now... You stayed like that for a moment without having to explain why and pressed a quick kiss in the place, where your cheek rested just a second ago. 

- If you need a rubber duck, feel free... - you said, walking around the kitchen island. When you first explained the concept to him, he couldn't stop laughing, but then one evening he actually tried it... And even though you didn't fully understand what he was talking about, explaining the problem out loud, was enough for him to realize what he was doing wrong. And ever since, every now and again he went into a very technical rant, sometimes in German, but mostly in English, so you could ask at least some questions. 

- Thank you, Schatzi. - he looked up for a moment and when he saw what you were wearing, a giant smile bloomed on his face and he couldn't stop staring for a good moment, even when you caught him. - Do you need help with that? - he pointed his chin at the lamb rack, still in one piece that you took out of the fridge. As a daughter of a professional chef, it would be hard for you not to know how to handle yourself in the kitchen, and even though you definitely didn't cook every day, you still enjoyed it. And even though he knew all of that, he still offered to help.

- Finish your work, mo Chuisle... - when he called you Love or Schatzi, you loved looking for nicknames in every language of the world, and when your friends called their partners babe or honey, you were peppering yours with Neshama Sheli (my soul), Ya Amar (my moon), and many more, and he never knew which one was coming. It was like his own personal Russian Roulette of love. 

- Mo Chuisle....? That's a new one. - of course, he nailed the pronunciation the first time, while it took you at least five minutes to get the rough "ch" right. 

- It is... - you smiled at him, while you took everything that you might need for cooking. As soon as he noticed that you enjoyed cooking even in hotels, he always made sure to request a suit with a fully stocked kitchen, even if he wasn't sure, you were to visit him. - It's Gaelic and it means my pulse or my heartbeat. - you explained and before you even got to prepping, you poured a glass of water and dropped a lemon slice in it.

- I like it... Mo Chuisle... - he repeated it again committing it to memory, while you put the glass in his reach, and he almost immediately took it and drank half of it. Even though you technically didn't live together, you learned each other's habits and preferences pretty well.

And now you could officially start cooking. Dividing the rack took you less than a minute, so did making a simple rosemary-garlic marinade, and while the meat was absorbing it, you peeled the potatoes, cut them in quarters, and put them in a pot. While they were slowly boiling, you cut more garlic and rosemary and put them in a pan with olive oil, and as soon as it started heating up, the simple yet amazing smell filled up the room. When the oil was infused, you strained it and divided it in two to use later. 

Once you got into the proper rhythm and your muscle memory took over, your mind went back to your plans for the future. You knew you would have to start and register your own production company, which seemed to be the easy part... You already had some names in mind when it came to a possible tech crew. During your years with the network, it was hard not to make some friends both in and outside of the company, and you were almost sure that at least five people would be willing to go on this adventure with you. And when it came to the research team, you knew you would need at least two... let's say "very passionate" people whose skills towered the FBI, so they could push each other to find more and more interesting things peppered over the internet, and you could easily think about one person who once was able to find a guy just by his phone case, so you had no doubts that she would be able to comb every part of the internet to find the most obscure facts and verify them. 

- Mark confirmed he'll be able to swing by tomorrow morning. 8 AM ok? - the question pulled you from your train of thought, and you needed a moment to take in the reality. Potatoes were already roasting in the oven, the fresh greens salad was already done, and you were in the process of reducing the wine glaze. You continued mixing it, so it wouldn't burn. 

- The lawyer...? - you confirmed, looking at Toto over your shoulder, and he nodded. – 8 AM is fine. Here? - you assumed that's what "swing by" meant, but you wanted to make sure. 

- Yes. He also asked if you could forward him the contract beforehand... - you run the wooden spatula through the middle of the pan to check the consistency, and it was perfect, so you turned off the heat and turned around. 

- Sure, I can do that right now, I have it somewhere in my emails. - you had to get your phone from the bedroom. It wasn't hard to find the right message, and you passed your cell to Toto, so you could fill in the email address since you didn't know it, but instead of just taking your phone, he pulled you closer in such a way, that your back was pressed against his chest, and he rested his chin on your right shoulder. You gently pressed your cheek to his hair, and put your free hand on his neck.

You stayed like that for a moment, but he eventually took your phone from your hand, unlocked it, and send the email with your contract to his lawyer. 

- Dinner is ready by the way... Are you done with work? - you asked when he put your phone screen down on the kitchen island. 

- Mhm... - he mumbled and gave you a tighter squeeze before finally letting you go, so you could plate the food, while he put his laptop away, so he wouldn't be tempted to do more. - It looks amazing, Schatzi.

- It tastes even better. - you smiled and while he moved the plates to the small, round table next to the window, you poured two glasses of the same wine you used to make the glaze with, and placed one closer to him.

- Ok, now tell me what you came up with. - he requested when you were finally sitting at the table, and you rested your feet on his chair, next to his thigh. He started slowly eating, and you told him about your plans about the type of company you'd think would be the best for this whole endeavor, which was a private company limited by shares, who you'd like to have in your team and why, how to go about the recruitment process, what equipment you’d like to start with, and the general idea for the set aesthetics; you wanted it to be elegant and consistent, but easy to travel with, because you suspected that not everyone you wanted to interview would be ready to drop everything and come to England for a day, and you didn't want something flashy, because the conversation itself was supposed to draw the most attention. 

After he finished eating, and you still continued talking, he gently rested one hand on your calf, while the other played with a glass of wine. He was asking some clarifying questions here and there, because your brain was galloping so fast, that sometimes you skipped a few sentences out loud, trying to get to the point as soon as possible. 

At first, you didn't even realize that he started very gently massaging your leg with a knuckle of his thumb, while you leaned back in your chair, but when your brain finally caught up, you couldn't help but smile. He knew you were on your feet all day, and even though you weren't in pain, he still thought about helping you in ways you haven't thought about. 

- You're handling it very well, Schatzi, I just have one remark. - you nodded, encouraging him to continue, while you finished your wine. - And believe me, it pains me to say it, but you shouldn't start with the Mercedes team, not even with Lewis, even though everyone knows you two are friendly. - he let his words sink in, and your first reaction was to go to that irrational place, where the voices were screaming at you that he thought you weren't good enough to interview his drivers or him. But then he caught your gaze, and you realized what he truly meant because there was no way he would hurt you like that. 

- Our relationship will be out before the first interview... And people might think that either I or you are playing favorites, and I might get accused of not being objective. - you finished the thought for him.

- Precisely. - you couldn't stop the sigh that left your lungs. He, of course, was right, and you knew he didn't mean it in a malicious way, but it wasn't something you even considered yet. Lewis was a safe option, but now... Now you would actually have to do some networking. - If you're taking suggestions, I would recommend Daniel for the first interview. He's popular right now, and his name would pull in the audience. - it was a good suggestion, and you would definitely consider it, just... not now. There was still a lot to do before you could even start thinking about potential guests. - Have you thought about where your offices would be? - another question that definitely needed an answer. 

- I haven't... But in my defense, I've been thinking about it for about two hours total. - you put your hands up in a defensive gesture, but it was just for show. To be honest, he probably thought about it even less, but he had much more experience in running anything than you, so you were grateful for any advice or input. 

- How about your flat in London...? - he suggested, and you immediately tensed up, not sure where he was going with it. - It's big enough to store equipment and you could remodel the living room into an office space. I assume researchers and editors could work from home...? - you nodded cautiously. - So, you don't need desks for all the people at the same time, and they could rotate. You could also soundproof your bedroom and remodel it into a recording studio. And you could finally move in with me... - and there it was. It was a sneaky way to ask, and it's not like you haven't talked about it before, but now your biggest obstacle was beginning to crumble and move out of the way. There was a long moment of silence while you were reconsidering every argument, every pro and every con. 

- Fine... - you finally said and shook your head in disbelief, still unsure what it all meant, but a giant smile bloomed on your face, despite the mellow word you chose to use. 

- Fine...? - he made sure because even though he asked, he didn’t know what your response would be. 

- Fine, I will officially move in with you. - you laughed quietly. - But I'm not just gonna call the moving company and move all my stuff in one day, you have to give me time to adjust, ok...? - even though you really wanted to do that, you were a little bit scared. You loved him, and he loved you, and it should be as simple as that, but you couldn't think yourself out of the emotions you felt. 

- Fine... - he purposefully mirrored your choice of word, and leaned in, reaching for your hands to pull you closer, and when you did, he placed a soft kiss on your lips. - Go rest, Schatzi... You cooked; I'll clean. - he put your leg back on the floor, so he could leave his chair. Technically the cleaning service could take care of everything tomorrow, but you enjoyed that he wanted to share the chores, and you couldn't help but wonder what living with him full-time would be like...

It's not like you've never been to his house, because you spent many, many nights there. And on top of that, there were all the days you've spent together in hotel rooms when either of you was traveling for work, so you already had a pretty good idea, but full-time...? And more importantly, you would have to start calling his house your home, which would take some adjusting. But the gardens... You smiled just thinking about them.

You didn't want to go to bed yet, so you opted out for a couch where you could observe what he was doing behind the kitchen island. 

There wasn't a lot of cleaning to do, because your unintended training meant that you were washing everything as you went, but it was still nice knowing, that you didn't have to do everything alone. Now or ever... Because you couldn't imagine your life without Toto in it. 

Part 3

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

[bluelancess]

Midnight Blooms | Elriel AU chapter 2/?

Sports romance, college AU.

Summary: When Elain is told by her father, a ruthless politician, that she is to marry the son of one of his closest friends, Lucien Vanserra, to assure her father’s win on the next election, she has no other choice but to agree. What she never expected was her convictions being tested by a tall, devastatingly beautiful black-haired hockey player who moved in right next door. And if there was one thing Elain was certain of, was that Azriel posed a dangerous threat to the previously dormant desires roaming inside her. And she needed to stay far, far away from him.

Tags: forbidden love, arranged marriage, forced proximity, modern setting, slow burn

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Read on AO3.

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Chapter 2

I notice everything you do or don't do

AZRIEL 

Cassian hits my shoulder hard with one of his huge hands as soon as the main door to the girl’s house closes, and none of them are looking at us anymore. He has probably been waiting to punch me since the invite for the party escaped my lips. 

Good thing he didn’t aim for the jaw or cheekbone, although we do have a no-face-punching rule, but Cassian tends to forget it pretty often. Or at least that’s how he excuses himself every fucking time. 

“What the fuck was that, Az?” He grunts my way. “You want to kill our party before it even starts?” 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” I tell him, taking a couple steps back, I’m holding my third bottle of beer in my right hand, it’s almost over, the liquid pretty much room temperature. 

Last semester, when we lived in that awful one bedroom apartment near campus, parties were one hundred percent off limits. We didn’t even have a living room, for fuck’s sake. The kitchen consisted of the tiniest little oven ever, and a sink that barely fit two plates and a mug. Granted, the rent was cheap. So cheap, we could spend the rest of our money on take-out, liquor and WiFi, which is pretty much all you need to survive college. 

But a couple weeks before finals, the whole building was infested with the fattest, and ugliest rats I’ve ever seen, Cassian even made a sport out of getting the little fuckers out of the apartment, and I guess it was a silent agreement that we couldn’t stay there for another year. No fucking way. 

So I saved every penny I got from all the jobs my boss assigned me during the summer. Yes, maybe not all of them were entirely legal, but they payed generously and in cash, how was I supposed to pass the opportunity when it got us this amazing house? It is only a bonus that we have three, hot as fuck neighbors. Almost like the universe is rewarding us for all the shit it made us go through when we were children. 

About fucking time. 

“Dramatic? I’ve been planning this thing for weeks,” Cassian says, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand. “It’s the last time I can get properly drunk before practice starts. Coach is a pain in the ass with his no-drinking-during-the-season-or-get-the-fuck-out rule, and you know it.” 

“Let’s go inside,” Rhys says, leaving the end of the sentence hanging unsaid in the air, but I imagine it would go as something like: you uncivilized brutes. 

“You’re just proving my point, Cass,” I say, hiding a smile, looking over my shoulder one last time at the house on the other side of the street, I stop on my tracks when I see the curtain of the kitchen window rustle. Are they still watching us? 

Is she still watching us?

The pretty, quiet one. Fuck, I couldn’t look away from those big, sweet eyes and those full, pink lips. I’d die to just give them a little taste, a tiny bite until she’s melting and moaning against me. I remember her from last year. We took a class together, I’m pretty sure she never really noticed me. She sat at the front, I sat on the back. She was quiet, so shy, did all the group assignments on her own, and always got the highest grade. The professor used to be a jerk and tease her because she was so smart, but so damn quiet she never showed how fucking intelligent she was to the rest of the class. I had to fight the urge to kick his ugly ass whenever he started his shit with her. 

It made the whole class laugh at her expense, the fucking asshole. 

I admit my reasons for inviting them to the party were completely selfish. I saw an opportunity and took it. Now, the real surprise would be if she actually shows up tomorrow night. 

“I also think it is a good idea to have them over for the party,” Rhysand says, putting one hand on my left shoulder, and the other on Cassian’s, guiding us inside the house. “They won’t call the cops if they’re having a good time. Right, Az?” 

I shrug. “Sure.”

“Oh, come on, you two,” Cassian shakes his head like his disappointed. “Always thinking with your dicks.” 

“Not my problem that girl is giving you blue balls.” I say, walking a bit faster to get away from him before he decides to punch something other than my shoulder. 

Cassian grunts. 

“Is that why you’ve been so moody all summer?” Rhys asks lifting a brow, and Cass shoots him a death glare. “Wait, don’t tell me you fell in love with this girl after just one night, Cassian. We’re not fifteen anymore” 

“Shut up, asshole.” 

“I’m just saying.” Rhys lifts both hands in the air, innocently. 

I smile, watching them. We’ve been together, the three of us, since we were little kids. Pretty much fending for ourselves in a world that doesn’t like people like us. Alone, but never really lonely. From foster home to foster home. By some miracle, we were always placed together in different families. Five to be exact. Most kicked us out after a couple months, claimed we were too much to handle, or whatever the fuck that means. 

We were children, noisy, curious, maybe a little too energetic, but they wanted us to behave like robots, follow orders to a tee, never complain, and of course, they wanted the government’s money. Turns out, dealing with us wasn’t worth the little compensation they were receiving, so ultimately all of them ended up throwing us back into the black whole we came from. 

Everything changed when we got to Gramps and Nana’s house. Recently retired, house empty after their biological kids were all grown up and left, they decided to take us in. Treated us like their own. It was so unlike every single other house we’d been at, the we contemplated running away the first two weeks. It felt too good to be true. Almost like a trap. 

Nana won us over with her killer brownies and Gramps taught us everything he knew about hockey. 

We wouldn’t be here without them. 

“Well, don’t ask,” Cassian starts walking up the stairs, like the subject actually bothers him, which is completely unusual for him. “I’m telling you guys, those girls are going to be nothing but trouble.” 

Rhys eyes gleam like he’s visualizing exactly what Cassian is referring to, and he’s up for the challenge. 

“Isn’t that the fun of it, Cass?” Rhys teases him. 

“When you’re the one walking around with blue balls over that girl, Rhys, we’ll talk.” 

“Oh, but I won’t.” Rhys’ voice is laced in arrogant confidence. 

“She has a boyfriend,” I remind him, nearing our brand new couch in the living room. It’s dark blue, almost black, and it’s huge. It had to be, if it wants to fit the three of us at the same time. Gramps gifted it to us before we moved here, said he couldn’t bare the thought of us sitting on the floor on such a big house. Is pretty much the only piece of decent furniture we own. 

“Not for long.” Rhys shrugs, opening the fridge we have in the living room and grabbing another beer. It seemed like a better place than the kitchen, considering that if we’re watching sports we don’t have to walk all the way there to grab something to drink. 

Cassian barks a laugh. “You’re too cocky, is going to bite you in the ass.” 

“I happen to enjoy ass bites.” Rhys laughs again, and I’m silently glad we’re not fighting. 

We hardly ever do. 

We’ve been through so much already, always sticking together, and having each other’s back, that there doesn’t seem to be anything that would be important enough for us to fight over. 

Cassian shakes his head, and climbs the stairs like he has so much pent up energy he’d like to release. A couple seconds later, he’s blasting music in his bedroom and to probably hide the annoying noise his rusty-ass treadmill makes. It’s so old the damn thing is practically falling apart by just looking at it. 

“If I’d known those three lived here, I would’ve moved out from that rat hell a lot sooner,” Rhys says, sitting next to me, and turning on the television, none of us really pay attention to it. I don’t have to look at my brother to know his eyes are also glued to the window right beside the screen, the one that gives us a front row seat to the house in front. 

“They moved in last year,” I tell him, taking the beer from his grip to steal a sip.

“You know them?” He asks me, a curious look in his eyes. I know almost everyone. I like to watch people. Listen when they think I’m not paying attention. I happened to learn at a very young age, that information is the real currency of the world. It can get you pretty much anywhere you want to go if you know how to use it correctly.

“Just two of them.” I tell him, giving his beer back. “The third one is probably a freshman. I’d never seen her around here before.” 

“I hadn’t seen any of them around here before.” 

“Nesta’s pre-law,” I begin to explain. “Has every loser in campus either shitting their pants on her presence or trying to get into her pants.” 

“That’s Cassian’s?” Rhys asks, as if it needs confirmation. 

“Yup,” I nod. “And Elain… No idea what her major is. She’s pretty reserved, keeps to herself, doesn’t go out much.” I shrug, pretending she doesn’t pique my interest in the slightest, which couldn’t be further from the truth. “I took a class with her last year, I’m guessing she’s maybe an art major.” 

Rhys takes a big gulp from his beer. “That leaves us the third sister.” 

“Right, the one with the boyfriend.” 

“Love it that you keep reminding me,” Rhys shoots me a not so friendly glare. 

“There’s a thousand girls on campus that would pretty much give up their first born to sleep with you, Rhys,” I remind him. “No need to want one that’s unavailable.”  

“I happen to like challenges.” His shoulders go tense when the door of the house in front of ours opens, and the girl whose name we don’t know yet walks out, some cash on her hand. There’s a bike in the street, some skinny guy pulling handing her two boxes of pizza. 

She thanks him with a wide smile, and Rhys takes a long gulp from his beer. 

“Yeah, but you’re a sore loser.” 

He smiles wickedly at me. “Which only means I have to make sure I don’t lose.” 

I roll my eyes, and he simply lets out a dark chuckle. I’m not joking when I say any of us could get literally any girl on campus we wanted. They’re practically drooling at our feet, mostly after games, and the quota of girls drastically increases if we win it. But, after a couple years playing for the Night Beasts, and getting used to the attention, it has only made it… boring. Predictable. 

Too easy. 

Rhysand grabs the keys of his pick-up truck that were laying on top of the fridge and hands me his half empty beer bottle.

“Where are you going?” 

“To buy the best fucking wine I can get my hands on.” 

He leaves before I can stop him, and I’m left on my own in the big, dark first floor of the house, surrounded by nothing but shadows, peeking trough the window like a complete stalker, at the way they’re sitting in the kitchen table, eating pizza and laughing. My eyes glued to one of the sisters in particular, her soft smiles, the curve of her neck, her lips wrapping around the straw of her drink, putting such filthy images in my head I force myself to look away, adjust the bulge on my pants and go take a cold shower. 

Fuck. 

It’s going to be a long year. 

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in honor of time magazine softlaunching elriel i decided to post another chapter! I actually never thought people would read it so i'm glad you guys are liking it<333

[kingdaddydaichi]

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‎♡‧₊˚ HAIKYUU BOYS WHEN THEY GET SICK

ft. daichi. osamu. bokuto. suga. asahi.

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‎♡‧₊˚ DAICHI

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Work

WILL STILL TRY TO GO TO WORK

“daichi, baby, you can’t go to work! you work with the public. what if you get people sick? what kind of police officer gets people sick? your job is to serve and protect and you can’t even protect people from your own germs? no, you shouldn’t go!”

but he’ll try to go in any damn way😤

“nah, i’m fine!” he’ll say before going into a coughing fit.

stubborn man

he’ll get ready for work looking and feeling like shit, but he’s determined - he’s Going To Work™️

it would take an army to stand between him and his sense of duty

mans won’t listen to reason

so after he leaves, you send a text to his sergeant: “i tried! i tried to get him to stay home but he wouldn’t listen.”

sarge is like: “damn workhorse.”

gets yelled at by his boss at the station then comes back home

his sergeant’s all “what the fuck are you doing here? go the fuck home. that’s an order, sawamura! i’ll take your fucking badge!”

Home

45 mins later he comes walking back IN the door

and you’re just there like “mmhmm” as he hangs his tired head and mopes back to the bedroom to change out of his uniform and back into his pajamas

daichi: you texted him, didn’t you?

you: how far did you make it in before he turned you away?

daichi: he was waiting outside. wouldn’t even let me in the door.

“i told you. you work too hard, baby," you say, following behind him with the cooling strip you just grabbed from the fridge. you’d put it in there to start getting cold as soon as you realized he wasn’t feeling well.

he was on his back when you woke up next to him that morning, his t-shirt slightly damp in the front and back. he’d been sniffling and congested since he got home from work yesterday afternoon.

will still try to do everything himself

you’ll come through the living room to check on him and find that your sick husband is missing from the couch.

so you finally get him settled down on the couch only to return after leaving the room for a few minutes and…your husband is missing from the couch! AGAIN!

“are you serious?” you go looking for him, exasperated. “daichi?!” 

“‘m in here,” he croaks from the kitchen.

“what are you doing?” you ask impatiently.

“i wanted more tea.”

“i told you if you needed anything, let me know, i’ll get it for you!”

you have to shoo him back to the couch while insisting that you’re going to take care of him.

Medicine

he’ll take medicine. he’s stubborn, not stupid. he’s Enneagram Type 1.

“if you get sick, you take medicine. why? ‘cause that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

Doctor

won’t go unless he’s been sick for a few days and isn’t getting better. and even then you have to make the appt for him sometimes. 🙄

stubborn, stubborn man. 😮‍💨 but you love him more than the sun loves the moon.

══════════════════

‎♡‧₊˚ OSAMU

══════════════════

Work

he wouldn’t go to work; it wouldn’t be difficult to get him to stay home bc he knows he works in the food business and he doesn’t want to contaminate any food or run the risk of spreading anything around.

he’s got customers AND employees to think about!

once he feels better tho and he’s not contagious anymore, even if his symptoms aren’t completely gone yet, he’ll go to work and wear a mask which is pretty standard if you're sick in Japan anyway.

Home

he’s just so chill

he’s been calling the shop every 2 hours. “how’s everything going? did so-and-so show up? did you clean out the rice cooker?”

he doesn’t mean to micromanage, he just misses his business. and he’s hands on. he works the front of the house ffs.

maybe he just calls a couple of times a day tho.

“how’s everything going? hm…okay. if you need anything, call. you know how to get in touch with me. please call me."

employee: "what?"

osamu: "what?"

Medicine

used to be anti-medicine UNTIL he became a business owner

“i don’t need no stinkin’ medicine.”

he’s a tough guy

but nowadays, he wants to hurry up and feel better so he can get back to work.

══════════════════

‎♡‧₊˚ BOKUTO

══════════════════

Work

he would be bummed bc he couldn’t practice or play with the jackals. he doesn’t even get to sit on the bench bc he has to stay home. the team is like “stay. the. hell. away. from. us.”

he got the whole team sick once so now he sneezes during practice and everybody just stops and turns around and looks at him like “istg bokuto! are you sick? if you sneeze again, you’re outta here, we are NOT going through that again!”

the whole team once got a stomach bug on his account. he tried to power through it and went to practice and they had a big match the next day, but everybody was fucking SHITTING, PUKING and the whole fucking team was down. they had to forfeit the game and chalk it up as a loss. they were so pissed at bo.

bo rolled his ankle during a game once and had to be benched. he was so bummed that he couldn’t play as you walked with him and the assistant coach to the infirmary to have it checked out. once there, his foot was propped and iced. you told him you’d be right back and he looked up at you with limp hair and sad owl eyes, but you assured him you’d be right back.

you ran to the away campus’s gift store and managed to find an owl plushie. you held it up, beaming at it. perfect! you rushed to the cashier to pay for it before running back to the infirmary.

holding the plushie behind your back, you opened the door and walked inside, bo’s hair and facial expression just as you’d left it. but his eyebrows arched in curiosity as you smiled at him before presenting him with the owl. his hair perked back up as a pouty smile covered his face, his big, round golden eyes filling with unshed tears.

“for me?”

“for you,” you nodded, proffering it with outstretched arms.

“y/nnnnn!” he cried, grabbing your arms and pulling you into his lap to hug both you and the plushie.

you kissed his cheek with a sweet smile. “i hope this helps you feel better, baby.”

he clung to that owl plushie for the rest of the game, like a mother owl protecting her owlet.

to this day, whenever he gets sick, he asks for the owl plushie. it’s his comfort lovey, his security plushie.

he’s so adorable…like an overgrown toddler, basically.

i luz he.

Home

B A B Y

he’s SUCH a baby about it the whole damn time

omg you will just hear him groaning from the other room

just “ohh ughhh ohmygod uhhh…i feel so awful…oh god i can’t breathe through my nose…ohhh i’m so hungry but i don’t wanna get up and get anything to eat…babyyyyy can i have a grilled cheese sandwich?”

he’s so sweet about it but he’s a baby

he’s such a hypochondriac, y’all.

Virgo much?

he’s all up on webmd using the symptom checker

“i don’t know, baby. what if it’s not just a cold? what if it’s this rare disease that’s only found in Antarctica?”

“bo, you don’t have that. only penguins get that. stop.” 

you finally have to just take his phone away so he’ll stop googling stuff and trying to diagnose himself with a brain tumor

“bo, you not being good at math is NOT a brain tumor symptom!”

he gets so much as a sniffle and he’s down for the count

he can barely get out of bed

“baby, come check my head. am i hot? am i running fever? where’s the thermometer?”

“no, baby, you don’t feel warm.”

“are you sure? you better get the thermometer and check just in case.”

Medicine

will take ALL the medicines

he’ll be looking for the cough suppressant and you’re like “bo! you don’t even have a cough.”

“i don’t care! i need all the things!”

you have to keep the medicine cabinet under lock and key, otherwise you might find him hallucinating and drunk on a cocktail of NyQuil, DayQuil, Benadryl, eyedrops, heartburn medicine, and Orajel. 

Doctor

calls a neurologist and tries to schedule a CT scan.

and you’re in the background, “BO! I TOLD YOU YOU DO NOT HAVE THAT PENGUIN DISEASE! DO NOT SCHEDULE A CT SCAN!”

══════════════════

‎♡‧₊˚ SUGA

══════════════════

Work

finally, someone with enough sense to stay home from work when he’s sick. you won’t have to tell him twice bc he cares about all the crotch goblins at school and doesn’t want to get all those kids sick.

Home

suga…he’s clever

and mischievous

getting him to stay home from work is a piece of cake, but good luck getting him to stay down

he takes care of others, not the other way around

you catch him doing stuff too

unlike with daichi, it’s not that he doesn’t want to be a burden, it’s that he can’t NOT be a caretaker?

you try to take care of him but he ends up taking care of you…and you’re not even sick?

like, not only does he not let you take care of him, he does stuff for you

he doesn’t go out of his way to do stuff for you, he’s just thinking like finally! i’ve got a day off during the week so i can get some things done around here. stuck at home, can’t go anywhere else so it’s a perfect opportunity to get caught up with housework!

you try to stay home too to take care of him but he INSISTS that you leave

“i will kick you out of the house if you don’t leave!”

so you leave - you go to work but before you walk out the door you point at him and you’re like “okay…but you better rest! i know you! you’ll take this opportunity to get a bunch of shit done around the house. don’t you do it! you better rest and take it easy!”

and he’s all “yes, okay, yeah yeah yeah. fine. go. bye.”

and sure enough you come home after work later and this motherfucker has done laundry, he’s probably prepped dinner, graded homework - and he’s laid up on the couch just GROANING bc of how terrible he feels. and you just look at him with your hand on your hip like “mmhmm! mmhmm! look at you now. see! i told you!”

he told you “sure! sure i won’t do any work…” liar

you come home and he can barely hold his head up.

poor guy.

“i don’t feel sorry for you. you did this to yourself.” 

but you take care of him anyway. “suga? why do you do this to yourself, baby? next time you get sick i’m getting horse tranquilizer to make sure you get rest. i’ll put you down sir!”

Medicine

so when you get home and he’s remodeled the house, having forgotten to take any medicine so now not only is he exhausted from overworking himself when he should’ve been fucking resting, but also his symptoms have gotten out of hand. 

“well,” you put your hand on your hip and raise your eyebrows at him as he lies groaning on the living room floor. “i hope you’re satisfied. because now you’re staying home tomorrow too. on the bright side, you’ve gotten all the work done around here so I guess tomorrow you might actually rest." cute dumbass sometimes.

══════════════════

‎♡‧₊˚ ASAHI

══════════════════

Work:

he’s so easy?

“asahi, you’re sick, baby. you need to stay home from work.”

“okay.” he’s not gonna argue.

he might try to say “well i’ve got such and such show coming up. i’ve gotta have this and that done…”

and you’re just “asa. that’s why you have people there to back you up. you’re not a one man team. your colleagues will help. you’ll more than make up for it bc you’re such an amazing designer! now go lay down.” and he will. 🥲

Home

he’s not gonna fight you on anything bc he doesn’t fight at all

he’s a lover, not a fighter

model patient

avoids conflict at all costs

“yes, darling. yes, dear. okay. okay.”

doesn’t complain

so easy to take care of

except he won’t ask for shit

will either try to get stuff himself or just go without bc he can’t decide what’s worse - burdening you, or getting in trouble for being up walking around again bc you told him to let you know if he needed something

so he just kinda tries to do without shit? and you have to come check on him.

“asahi? when’s the last time you had a drink of water?”

“uhh…two hours ago?”

“ASAHI!”

“it doesn’t matter what I do, i feel bad! i can’t win for losing!” 

finally you get through to him and he’ll ask for shit, but he’ll apologize first. like “um, babe? uhh…”

“hm? what ya need, asa?”

“umm, i’m so sorry to bother you but would you…could you…possibly…maybe…potentially…”

“oh my god, spit it out. and don’t apologize.”

“oh,” he says, averting his eyes in shame. “s-sorry.”

“stahhp!”

"sorry"

Medicine

he will take it bc you told him to and he doesn’t want to fight

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‎♡‧₊˚ hq mlist ‎˚₊‧♡

‎reblogs and (nice) comments are wonderful !! ♡

+ tagging + @crystal-lilac @chaoskrakenuwu @briokayama @lanaxians-2 @yuujispinkhair @i4sgwr @mrs-sawamura @heroesfan101 @millenialfanfictionaddiction @darthferbert @anejuuuuoy @ceo-of-daichi @honeybunny-sawamura ++ ask/dm/carrier pigeon if you wanna be added to or removed from a fandom or character taglist

══════════════════

[slashingdisneypasta]

Cruella De Vil x Reader || Oneshot

*also just looking at this picture, I realised her inmate number is 666 and that made me laughhh XDD I mean, of course it is XD

Plot: Set during 102 Dalmatians. Cruella has been 'fixed'!- she's good now! How do you deal with it? Do you still love her? Do you still want her? Do you... miss who she was?

Warnings: This relationship is mutually toxic 😅 But that's- like- true love, for a Disney Villain. Right? 😅😅😅

“I’m ouuttttt!~”

“Uh- “You’re confused. Who is this on the phone? While you lean down to your front porch and pick up the morning paper, the chilly London air nipping at your ears and down your shirt, you consider the voice you’re hearing. There’s definitely something familiar about it… but you can’t place it. “I’m so sorry- who is this??”

“Y/N darling you’ve forgotten my voice already??”

… So this person knows you. Wincing, you take the paper back inside your flat and close the door behind you. This is awkward… “Sorry… um. What is this concerning?”

“Oh, I just wanted to say hello! I did wonder how you were, while I was away… You never visited me, after all.”

Away?? Visited?? You’re becoming more and more confused by the moment. And why aren’t they just telling you who they are? Why the games? Sighing, you half prepare to rip this person a new hole and half unfold the newspaper to take a bored skim of the front page as you lean back on the front door. “… okay look. If this is a prank call, I’m not amus- “

Your words slip away from you, as if your legs buckled and you lost footing, as soon as you lay eyes on the front page.

The words CRUELLA FREED!!, with yes- not just one but 2 exclamation points, is printed in large letters before your eyes. You’re shocked- but you’re even more shocked at the picture below it.

There she is, in her prison garb, her hair oddly neat and rounded… cuddling a dalmatian puppy. Your jaw drops, at the sight. That is going to be stuck in your head forever, you’re sure. Her hair- the serene look on her face, and- is it even legal for her to touch a dog??

Suddenly the realisation of who you’re talking to sinks in, as your eyes lower to the words written under the picture. “… Cruella?”

“I prefer Ella now!~” Jesus christ- they messed with her in there- in prison. Fucked with her head. According to the article, ‘Dr Pavlov’ conditioned her, and now... now she loves animals.

Alive, animals. “Oh, Ella… “Wow. Cruella De Vil; Your slave-driving, shrieking bitch of an ex-boss. Your selfish, insane ex-lover. Is… a good person, now?? She sounds bloody freaky, so chipper and sweet, but… alright, good for her, you suppose- “Sorry I didn’t visit. Um. Alonzo… “You’re struggling to even speak! This is crazy! Especially so early in the morning. Good grief- You need to sit down. Pushing off the door, you make your way to the kitchen and plop down in a chair at the kitchen table. “he told me the prison had me blacklisted as a visitor… Um, bad influence that I am… “

Which wasn’t very fair, to be perfectly frank. Cruella was psychotic far before you knew her, and in fact she was a bad influence on you! But, whatever. Whatever! Sure, if they want to blame the model from the wrong side of the tracks- fine. You’re vexed, but… fine.

Besides, there are more pressing things to worry about right now. Like ‘Ella’. Chewing on your bottom lip nervously, you listen to her giggle on the other end of the phone, wherever she is right now. It’s a tinkling sound, like a bird or a Disney princess, and it almost make you laugh; Grinning a little bit, despite yourself.

Lord- This woman. Always an extreme. It’s been 3 years but… damn, you can’t help being a little fond of her, still.

“I apologise for that… I must say though, I’m glad to hear you didn’t forget about me!” You should be figuring out how to hang up, but a part of you is truly enjoying this phone call. Because you have missed Cruella - not this version of her, but this is a novelty to be sure, -, and you’re sort of… pleased, that she called you the first day she was released from prison. “Anyway!” Just from her voice, you can imagine her eyelashes batting. And its oddly endearing, damnit. Mostly amusing, but… you always did respond to Cruella’s energy- no matter what it was. “I was wondering- would you like to meet up for dinner? Sometime? Oh- soon, maybe?? I would just love, to see you again!~”

Oh… yep. You assumed this was coming. And a part of you wants to say yes… you’re intrigued, and you want to get to know this Cruella… but there are a hell of a lot of reasons why you shouldn’t. Like, what if you remind her too much of the past? And you ruin this new chance for her?? You can’t do that… Sighing, you slump on your chair. “I don’t know about that, Cru- Uh, Ella… “

A desperate tone creeps into her voice. Not like she’s obsessed, though, just like she really wants to see you. It’s cute. And it hurts. “I can put Alonzo on the phone!! He’ll tell you- I’m not bad anymore, darling. I promise! Just come over, and let me apologise! Please? Alonzooo!~ “

Oh wait, wait, wait!!- “N- Ella, its fine. You don’t have to apologise!!, and you don’t need to get Alonzo. I believe you. Please, jus- “Sigh. Too late. “Hi, Alonzo, how have you been?… “

~

Over the next few weeks you see Cruella - you’ve tried to start thinking of her as Ella, you really have, but it seems that woman will always be Cruella to you, - all over the place. On the TV, I the paper, on posters around the city advertising the Second Chance dog shelter… its nice to see, that she’s doing well, but it’s also a huge pain.

Having your ex be in prison was actually the best thing, as you come to realise! You should have appreciated it more when you had the chance. Now you have to try and get over her all over again, but this time she’s everywhere.

And- she calls you. All the time. Whenever you get home from work and you get your shoes off finally and grab yourself a drink, the phone starts to ring. And you know its her. You try to ignore it, and sometimes you’re successful but others… you just can’t help it. When you do answer, it’s all flowery and uplifting and it feels like she really cares about you- truly. More than it ever did before. Its all, ‘How are you darling? How was your day? Was it lovely?? Tell me about it!~ Oh me?? My day was practically perfect darling thank you for asking!~ Did you get the fruit basket I sent you??- ‘ and its… nice. Perfectly pleasant. In fact, sometimes she has you ginning from ear to ear as you talk to her.

But there’s something missing, and that’s the reason why you sometimes just don’t answer. And why you refuse to see her in person, ever. No dinner, no lunch, no coffee. You wont even carpool with her, even though she swears - or, no, promises. She only promises, now. She would never swear! - she’s so much better at driving now.

There’s something missing… and you miss it.

You miss… how she used to speak to you, like she hates everyone but you. You miss… how she used to want you close by all the time, so she could have someone around who wasn’t a total idiot. You even miss how her furs used to feel tickling your nose! You miss… her. How that insane old bat used to make you feel when she was horrible and awful and disgusting.

And you know its wrong, but a couple of times, you’ve caught yourself wishing she would go back.

That’s… completely insane and evil of you, though, so you try not to think about that. In fact you try to Pavlov, yourself! Every time that you think like that, you’ve decided that you will refuse yourself a little something. You’ll tun the TV off when a show you like comes on, or you’ll put the chocolate bar back at the store, or you’ll get a water instead of a juice or a hot drink.

… It sucks, but you’re trying to be a better person too.

~

Today when you get home from work, kick off your shoes, and grab a drink to settle down with… the phone, miraculously, does not ring. You wait a few moments, wondering if maybe Cruella is late - she was busy funding a charity or something, probably, -, but still- no ring.

Eventually you give up and give a shrug, heading off to the couch without the phone for the first time in weeks. There’s a little pang in your chest, as you wonder why she wouldn’t call, but you manage to reason with yourself that this is a good thing.

Yep- It’s a good thing.

As you’re getting comfy in the cushions with a throw over your legs, cupping your drink and settling in happily, cosily, to watch your show this evening- you suddenly hear a SCREECH down the road and then, a moment later, a CRASH.

Its startling, and you’re just sitting there looking at the front door with your eyes big and round, when a familiar silhouette appears in the stained glass. If this were a cartoon, your pupils would have shrunk immediately, realising what you’re seeing. Oh, no. What!?-

You consider moving to open it, but it swings open on its own - of course she has a key, - and you’re just sitting there looking dumb and wide-eyed like a deer in headlights as Cruella flies on into your house. Donned in furs. “Darling! Oh- I would apologise for just dropping by unannounced- but you really gave me no choice, did you?? You little hermit, you weren’t coming to me! Well- here I am! What are you doing just sitting there with your mouth open?? Get up and greet me.”

“Uhh… “You don’t get up, despite the sharp - icy, - look in her eyes - the kind you’ve seen watching you from underneath a rock, definitely, -, but you do close your mouth. This woman is wearing furs!! Her tiger fur dress, her mountain lion coat, her bear hat- she looks like a great, big, fluffy chimera. Momentarily you’re able to keep your mouth closed- Before you have things to say. “… I assume you’re not Ella, anymore.”

“Oh, forget about that.” A tiny, evil smirk quirks at the corner of red lips. “I’m cured, darling.”  

Slowly you get up from the couch now, the lovely throw slipping to the ground. Now you set her with a sceptical look, one eyebrow raised. “Cured?” You thought she was cured before!

“Yes. No more… eugh,” She shudders, actually shudders- “No more ’Good will’. No. No more helping, no more being a productive and peaceful member of society- Eugh. I feel disgusting just remembering how I acted. And- “Her eyes flicker up at yours again, a pleased look slipping cruelly across her face. “… You must agree… Don’t you? You could barely stand me in that state! Refused to even see me.”

“I- … “How do you even respond to that? No, you don’t agree!... Well, she can’t know you secretly agree! “Should I call Dr Pavlov? This definitely feels like a setback in your, uh, mental condition- “

As you’re reaching for it, though, Cruella swipes your phone right off its little table- letting it smash on the floor and causing your jaw to drop. “Oh… oops.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll buy you another, darling, you know I will. And it’ll be far better than… “With a disgusted glance around the place, your little home, Cruella takes a slow drag from her cigarette. “… whatever you could afford… “

… whyyyy does that little dig make your stomach do backflips. You should be mad, damnit! Instead, you just huff and cross your arms. “Oh, you better.”

“Promise... Now- we have work to do and I truly don’t relish being here, in this hovel, any longer.” She tells you then, whipping around and heading back towards the front door. You almost don’t follow her, you almost stay put, but- hell, the next thing you know, you’ve got shoes on again and you’re closing the door behind you. “Hurry the hell up!” She snaps, disappearing into the car and you huff again, breathless as you pull your coat on and rush after her. You feel more energised, more excited- then you have since she went away. A grin slips across your lips; You can’t help it.

You know this is wrong, that you should go back inside and wait for her to be put away again- but god all you wanna do is kiss her!

When you get to the car, Alonzo is behind the door looking absolutely miserable, waiting to close it after you. You stop, and give him a sympathetic look even as you can feel Cruella’s intense gaze on your body wondering why you aren’t getting in. “… she’s back.”

“Uhuh.”

“… are you okay?”

“I… “He can’t even explain himself. He just drops and shakes his head.

“Oh Alonzo… “You chuckle, unable to help yourself, empathetically patting his shoulder.

"GET. IN!!"

[0perfectimperfections0]

Hi, hi. I recently joined the ugly dolls fandom. And I wanted to ask you the story of how Louis and Vage cook together in the kitchen? It's just that you have a lot of long stories that are hard to find^^"

Hello! I've been absent for a bit, sorry 😅I've been fleshing out the plot of what might either be added onto Shell-shock or become a part of my sequel.

Wage does more of the cooking than Lou does, honestly (he sucks at cooking, to a certain extent) but the reason he started working for Wage was because it was supposed to be a mix of a punishment but reintegration back into their society.

Obviously Lou has been cleaning the mess of the Uglies and the wayward Pretties since his downfall, Ox felt bad, but didn't have a better option that didn't lead to an outright riot from the Pretties for blatantly giving Lou another chance.

In a joking manner, Moxy is the one to suggest that Wage could always use some help cleaning dishes. He'd still be cleaning and, ergo, "slaving away as punishment" but he wouldn't necessarily be wandering around Imperfection like a hobo and be completely isolated from society.

And no, Wage was not happy with it at all. Really the only reason she agreed to it was because 1) Ox told her to and 2) it meant she could boss Lou around all she wanted. And Wage was certainly not going to pass up an opportunity to make Lou her personal butler.

I can always write a short story on some of the moments Wage and Lou have or like the beginnings of their friendship if you want. Your question kind of sounded like a "hey, can you give me a summary of what happened?" So, I apologize in advance if you were initially hoping for a short story.