#and in that same vein I HAD to get my point across to other adults like no listen I actually am in charge

[imwritesometimes]

currently wrestling with 'this looks too childish, having all these little hello kitty figurines all over my pc case and putting any more stuff in my car would be tasteless' and 'WHIMSY BITCH! WHIMSY! IT'S STILL ALL SMALL! IT'S CUTE! WHIMSY!'

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

hi!! i have a platonic req for miguel x chaotic teen reader who has a bad relationship with her dad, just a man who lost his daughter and a girl who never had a proper father.. what could go wrong..(im a slut for found family)

𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Platonic!Reader

Summary: After a really bad fight with your father, you escape to HQ, the one place you can find solace. To take your mind off things, you go on a mission with Miguel, but it seems you're a little too in your head.

Warnings: Arguments, swearing, and violence in the beginning so be cautious.

A/N: Finally back with some good ol' hurt/comfort, and found family :3

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“I’m sick and tired of having the same argument with you over and over again!” you say, the anger rising in your veins as your frustration bubbles over. You blink harshly as you try to force the angry tears down, your father seething angrily in front of you.

“Ever since Mom died, you’ve been unbearable. I’m an adult, you can’t control my life anymore pretending like it's love when I know damn well you don’t give a flying fuck about me,” you say, pointing an angry finger at him.

“WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TALKING TO,” he shouts, stomping over and grasping your hair harshly as you let out a yelp.

“I give you a roof to live under, food to eat. I raised you, I am your father, and you think you can back talk me you brat?” he spits in your face, and your recoil in disgust.

It was always like this. He justified giving you the bare minimum as being a father, when the house you lived in was never really a home. Not after your Mom died, when everything fell apart.

When you became your world’s Spiderman.

“You were a spectator in my life, you were never truly my father,” you whisper harshly as his grip tightens on your hair. His eyes narrow at yours before he throws you to the ground harshly.

“Get out,” he says.

“W-what?” you ask, your body radiating with pain from the impact.

“GET OUT!” he shouts, leaning over you menacingly. “You think you’re so grown, then get the fuck out of my house because I am sick and tired of you. You don’t think I’m your father? Then I won’t be. You’re lucky your whore of a mother wanted to keep you around because in my eyes you were always my one worst mistake,” he says, and his words hit you like a freight train.

You knew he never loved you. Even before your Mom died he never truly seemed to like you around, only tolerated you because of how much your Mom adored you.

When she died, the substance abuse began. You practically raised yourself and learned how cold the world truly was. You never knew the love of your father, but even still, it hurt to hear him say what you always understood deep down.

“Fine,” you say softly, standing up and opening a portal to HQ. His eyes widen as he watches, but you don’t even give a damn anymore if he sees.

You were never going to see him again anyway.

In an instant, you were gone.

~

You emerge on the other side, right into the lobby of the Spider Society. A few familiar faces recognize you, waving in greeting. You wave back with a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Hey Lyla?” you call out, and she appears hovering over your shoulder with a grin.

“What’s poppin', buttercup?” she says cheerfully, and the corner of your mouth quirks up a bit.

“I was just wondering if Miguel was around,” you say, and she reappears in front of your face.

“He was actually about to leave for a mission, want me to tell him to wait up?” she asks, and you nod.

“That would be great, thanks,” you say, letting out a soft sigh of relief.

“Already done, you know where to find him,” she says, before throwing up a peace sign and disappearing.

Miguel was…you didn’t exactly know what to call him. A mentor? A friend? Guardian maybe?

All you knew was that (despite a rocky start), he was one of the few people across the multiverse that you truly trusted. He was harsh at times, rough around the edges and gruff…but he was like a light you’ve never known.

You both had your baggage, and you have both lost a lot in your lives, but maybe that’s why it worked. Whatever it was.

“Miguel?” you call out, looking around the monitoring room. He wasn’t on his usual platform which was odd. All of a sudden you get that familiar tingle on the back of your neck, and you whip around.

“HOLY GODS,” you exclaim as you see him hovering in the shadows like a wraith ready to leap out for the attack. “What are you doing?!”

He only chuckles at your expense, walking out with an amused grin on his face.

“Just making sure your reflexes are working properly,” he states simply.

“By giving me a heart attack in the process?” you say with an exaggerated frown, and he snorts.

“Don’t be dramatic, besides, you make stupid faces when you get scared,” he says, and you gasp offendedly.

“Well, you always look stupid so beat that,” you retort, and his hand grasps his chest dramatically.

“How could you? After everything we’ve been through, you think I look stupid?” he says, and you can’t help the breathy laughter that escapes. But before long the smile is replaced by a frown.

You could never really hide your emotions around him, he could always read you too well.

“You alright, kiddo?” he asks. He tried to mask his concern, but his eyes never lied.

“Never better!” you say, your tone overly sarcastic. Miguel eyes you with an expression that says ‘That’s a load of shit’, but you just brush him off with a nervous chuckle.

“You were about to go on a mission right? Can I come along? Cool, great, awesome,” you say, not even waiting for his reply. You press a button on the back of your neck that replaces your clothes with your Spider Suit and turn to look at him expectantly.

“Let’s just pack this guy up, in and out right?” you say, and he sighs.

“Fine, you can come along,” he relents, opening up a portal.

“You do realize I was going to come along either way, right?” you say, and he shakes his head knowingly.

“I know, you have the stubbornness of a bull but it helps me feel at least somewhat like the leader of the Society if I get the final say,” he says, his voice almost small which makes you laugh out loud.

“There, there,” you say, patting his shoulder as the two of your approach the portal together. “Everyone around here respects your authority,” you say with a grin before your mask covers your face.

“Except you,” he scoffs.

“Except me,” you say in turn.

~

“So what’s the deal with this anomaly?” you ask as the two of you emerge on the other side, not wanting to go in completely blind if you didn’t have to. You were reckless, but you weren’t completely stupid.

“Came in through a tear from Earth-848710. Has the power to manipulate metal to his advantage. At the height of his powers he has the ability to control even the iron in our blood so watch out,” he instructs.

“Ooh, freaky. What, like blood bending in Avatar: The Last Airbender?” you ask, and a confused expression washes over Miguel’s face which makes you giggle a bit.

“Like what?”

“Oh Miguel, don’t worry, we’ll binge watch it later, just you wait,” you reply before the back of your neck tingles, and you sling a web up onto the ceiling, yanking you up off the ground.

Just in time, because in the place that you once were stood a beam of metal impaled into the ground.

“Holy shit!” you yelp, and Miguel is swinging right up beside you.

“That’s our cue then. On your toes, spiderling,” he says, and you grin. You don’t exactly remember when he started saying that phrase to you, but it was standard procedure before every fight for him to say it now.

“You got it, old man,” you snicker, and he rolls his eyes before swinging away, allowing you to analyze the villain down below.

His pillars were optimal at a range, so close combat was likely your best bet at beating the guy.

“You gonna hang up there all day, little thing? C’mon, give me a real fight,” the villain calls up to you tauntingly, and you scoff. Of course, he was going to be annoying, just what you needed.

“I’m just trying to find the quickest way to take your annoying ass down and believe me, it will happen,” you retort, swinging down before levelling him with a kick into his gut before he could react. He groans out in pain as you see Miguel send out his webbing from the corner of your eye.

But the villain seemed to notice it as well, using a shard of metal to slice it away before it could reach him.

“You think it’d be that easy, I’ve spent my whole life fighting so-called ‘heroes’ like you,” he scoffs.

“All that says to me is that you’re old,” you snicker, and he scoffs before sending a beam of metal toward you again. You leap out of the way just in time, but the villain picks up the pace.

Ear-scrapingly loud screeches of metal can be heard from all around as he pulls support beam after support beam out of the building to throw at you and Miguel.

“Where’s all that confidence from earlier, little hero?” he calls out toward you. “I thought you were going to take me down, yet here I stand. Maybe you’re weaker than you thought,” he laughs, and you narrow your eyes in annoyance.

You know you shouldn’t lead with your emotions, it was a recipe for disaster in a job like this but you couldn’t help it.

“Enough of this-” you seethe before you’re interrupted.

“THE BUILDING IS FALLING APART,” you hear Miguel shout, and it was true. With each support beam that the villain ripped from the frame, the more unstable the place became. You had to get this guy packed up and pronto, before you all were crushed.

“I’m tired of your games, anomaly,” you huff, levelling him with a glare.

“Why so serious? Your parents never hug you enough as a kid?” the villain says mockingly. You knew it was only to get a rise out of you, every comment of his was, but with your emotions already on high, you immediately saw red.

Everything you had bottled up and shoved down bubbled over like lava, and you lunged for the villain with a snarl.

You threw punch after punch as he cried out in pain, unable to do anything with your webs trapping him in place.

That’s when you feel webs that weren’t your own wrapping around your shoulders, yanking you off of the villain. You yank at the bonds, desperately trying to escape the fluorescent red webbing.

“Let me go, let me go! Let me finish him, Miguel,” you cry out, but he ignores you for a moment.

He shoves the villain through the newly opened portal without a second thought, knowing Jess would handle it on the other side before turning back to you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” he says as he grabs your shoulders, holding you in place as he retracts the webbing. You wriggle around in his grasp, chest heaving with each breath as tears brim over in your eyes. He looks at you with concern, just scanning over you to make sure you were alright before truly looking at you. It made you feel small as you struggled to hold back your sobs.

His eyes only softened, clicking your mask off before brushing his hand gently over your hair, and it only made you want to cry even more.

“C’mere kid,” he says, pulling you into a hug. You exhale shakily before hugging him back tightly, the tears you had been holding back all day finally falling down.

He was so warm…his arms embracing you gently in the way your real father never could.

You stood there in his arms for a few minutes, sobbing into his chest while he just held you gently. After a little while your sobs subsided, replaced with the occasional sniffle before you pull away, looking off to the side sheepishly.

“Do you want to tell me what’s really bothering you now, mi tesoro,” he asks gently, not wanting to push you to say something you didn’t want to.

You only sigh softly, glancing back only to see the worry in his eyes before relenting.

“I don’t have a good relationship with my father…you know this,” you smile sadly, and he only nods, waiting for you to continue.

“We got into a really bad argument before I came here, and well, I don’t really have a father anymore. He kicked me out,” you sniffle. “And I know it shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, because he never cared for me like a parent should but it still hurts Miguel,” you say, your eyes tearing up again. He smiles sadly at you, brushing away a tear gently.

“I’m sorry, mi ángel,” he says, not really knowing what else to say. “But don't blame yourself for feeling what you feel. You can't help it, and besides, losing all that you knew, even if it hurt you is still difficult," he says, and you nod knowing that what he said was true. It wasn't easy to accept though, so you don't say anything in response.

"...You do know you always have a home here, don’t you?” he says, and you laugh softly to yourself, not really knowing why.

“I do?” you ask, and he chuckles fondly.

“Always,” he says before his eyes grow distant for a moment. “…I lost Gabriella a long time ago, I never really recovered from that loss…I don’t think I ever will. But I do believe that the universe sent me you in turn. You won’t ever be her, I know that. But you don’t have to be, because I care for you like a child of my own regardless. You know that, don’t you?” he says, the genuineness of his words evident.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hugging him tightly once more. “I have never felt more safe in my life than when I’m with you," you admit.

He only smiles, and for a moment you think you can see the glimmer of tears in his red eyes but figured it must have been a trick of the light.

“Let’s head back to HQ, kiddo. We can figure out some place for you to stay, alright?” he says, and you nod before pausing for a moment.

“Could I…stay with you?” you ask hesitantly, and his eyes widen for a moment.

“If that’s what you’d like, it can be arranged,” he says before laughing softly. “My house has always been too big for just one person anyway.” Immediately your expression brightens as you skip toward the open portal, a large grin on your face.

“I would like that very much.”

✧✧✧✧✧

A/N: Good gods it has literally been almost 2 weeks since I last posted. I'm so sorry, life has been kicking my ass but I'm back!! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading <33

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin, @ohworm-writes, @ishii03, @snowywhiterose, @leftcupcakedefendor

[ladyhoneydee]

30 Day Song(fic) Challenge: Day 27

Took yesterday off and nearly didn't get it done today either (in fact, I am very, very late) but I'm back again with today's Song(fic) Challenge! The prompt was "a late night moody song", and while I'm sure the original creator of this challenge meant something moody as in angsty, I went for my personal favorite song to listen to late at night: You Are in Love, by Taylor Swift. I adore this song as one to stare out the window to as someone else drives so you can watch the stars and scenery zoom by, but as an adult who has to drive myself places now, it's just as good to hold yourself and sway to in the comfort of your bedroom.

You Are In Love

Game: Twilight Princess

Pairing: Midzelink

Word Count: 3154

Keywords: Falling in love OT3 style

One night, six months into their arrangement, Zelda wakes. The glowing hands of the Twilaiin clock on Midna’s nightstand inform her that it’s three in the morning: witching hour. She certainly feels spellbound as she stares at her lovers; at Link’s green and brown and gold, Midna’s black and white and orange, and her own purple and white and gold. A mixed palette of one another. Complimentary colors, somehow, against every sense of color theory.

Read the fic on AO3, or under the cut!

Zelda hasn’t seen Midna since they were both six years old and under three feet tall, sharing a nanny while their parents were enmeshed in diplomatic relations. At the time, they hadn’t realized that their fast, close friendship was blossoming under the shadow of potential warfare, and while the meeting had adjourned amicably, the countries of Twilain and Hyrule had remained different sides of the same coin: touching, but separate. And so did their daughters.

At some point in that thirteen-year estrangement, Midna must have undergone a hell of a growth spurt. Zelda was not a short woman by any means, even among the very tall Lanayrish hylians she descended from, but Midna still towered over her by an entire head. At least, she seemed that she would, when her gaze passed over and then hooked onto the Twili diplomat from across the darkened ballroom. 

Midna’s eyes were already on Zelda. Scarlet irises shining across the room. Zelda felt herself immediately hypnotized, a mink caught in the stare of a serpent. She could do nothing but watch one elegant hand lift and crook a single finger in an unmistakable summons. 

Zelda’s mouth went dry, and for the first time that night, the bodice of her dress felt tight, tight, tight.

She was sure there had been other dignitaries in the room, but they seemed to fade away to the margins as Zelda floated across the room. The Twilight Princess stood on the fringes of the gathering, and as Zelda approached, Midna glided forward the final two paces to meet her. 

“Shadows and snakes, I was beginning to think I was the only one with a brain at this party. Thank you for proving me wrong, Princess.”

Zelda flushed. “Now, I’m sure that isn’t the case—”

“Are you telling me you’ve ever exited a conversation with Count Fabian of Labrynna feeling enthralled, intellectually stimulated, and excited to have another?”

Zelda’s gaze flickered over to the count in question, who was currently holding court with an exceedingly bored-looking visiting dignity whose name she couldn’t recall. She shut her mouth and clamped down the corners that threatened to rise. “Fair enough. You’ve certainly chosen a…fit example.”

“I do adore choosing the fit ones,” Midna said, voice low, and Zelda felt every drop of blood in her veins combust as her childhood-playmate–turned-absolute-stunner looked her up and down with a stare that was at one ravenous and languid. “Do join me. Just because I’m from Twilain doesn’t mean I wish to live in the shadows of your attention.”

Zelda laughed despite herself at the faux-drama in the other woman’s tone. “You make a compelling argument…I’m not sure you could survive without attention.” Midna’s jaw dropped, and for a moment Zelda thought she had misstepped until she threw her head back with a cackle. 

“Oh, Princess, we are going to have such a marvelous night together. Come, I have a bottle of wine already, you won’t need to up and leave for ages.” She looped an arm around Zelda’s own elbow, and escorted her to one of the window-framed alcoves on the exterior wall of the room. A candle flickered in the center of the table, next to the promised bottle of dark, sweet wine. 

Here, the close shadows and distance from the main mingling floor made the incredibly public setting feel intimate. Zelda sat down, taking care to sweep her long skirt beneath her, and reveled in the soft velvet of the window bench. 

Midna sighed appreciatively as she plopped onto the bench beside her. “Now I have two things to thank you for: the pleasure of your company, and the chance to get off of these heels.” 

“I’m sure you could kick them off and no one would even notice.”

“True, but how would I get you to look at my legs otherwise?”

Traitorously, Zelda’s eyes followed Midna’s suggestion despite herself and flickered down to Midna’s shadow-stockinged legs and back up. The victorious smirk on her purple-stained lips nearly sent Zelda into a tailspin, but she managed to keep a tight lid on her sanity. 

“Quite thoughtful, but I’m here for more than the view.” She turned more fully towards Midna and, quite courageously, placed her hand on the warmth of Midna’s right thigh, just above her knee. “I do believe we have about two decades of catching up to do.”

They spoke to no one else for the rest of the night, contact information seized and clutched close when the event eventually closed down and they were turned out into the winter air. Scraps of paper torn from the corners of invitations. Proof that they’d found one another again, at last. 

Half a decade and the rise and fall of a madman later, Midna wakes to the crowing of a rooster and a sunbeam across her face. Eyes flicker open, only to immediately squeeze shut again in disgruntled discomfort. She adds one hand over her face for good dramatic measure, shading out the red the glare painted the inside of her eyelids.

“Link, you’re supposed to be good at everything,” she groans. “Can’t you turn off the sun for me?”

A hand caresses the curve of her thigh beneath the blanket. Fingers tracing delicious patterns on her skin spell out a response she barely manages to take in: “No can do, Princess.”

“Well, what good are you?” Midna blinks her eyes open, resentful at the brightness but not so much that she can hold herself back anymore from gazing upon Link’s gaze, blue as the ocean on a cloudy day; his tanned skin, with the muscles beneath corded from farming; his dark blond hair tousled from the previous night’s activities. He’s as delicious in the morning as he was the night before, and she drapes a possessive hand over his bare chest.

“You look like you’re going to eat me for breakfast,” Link signs. Rather than teasing challenge in his gaze, however, Midna can only find bottomless affection. Not in the mood for a morning round, then.

“Well, I might if you don’t cook up something for us.” She stretches like a cat, legs poking out from beneath the blanket and extending beyond the edge of Link’s mattress as they go taut. He watches her with interest, the kind that says I’m taking all of you in without the particular flavor of I want to take you, and when his gaze finally travels up her body to her face he returns her warm smile in kind.

“I guess I can part with some eggs,” he signs, and she rolls her eyes at the sass in every roll of his wrist. 

“You better throw some sausage in there, too. I’ve got a big day today, you know.” She throws her legs off of the edge of the bed, and slowly lifts her upper body off the bed, vertebrae crackling.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve got a date with that woman, you only talked about it for half the night,” Link teases, and follows her in getting up. He tosses Midna one of his old shirts without needing to ask, knowing she prefers going around in his clothes in the morning despite them barely covering her midriff. “I was shocked you didn’t scream her name last night instead of mine.”

Midna narrows her eyes, but knows he can still see the warmth in them through the faux-glare. “Keep the sass up and next time, I will.”

They stumble down the ladder from Link’s loft down to the main living space. Link gets the pan heating up in short order and begins shaping small handfuls of ground seasoned goat sausage into patties. She watches with wanton abandon: he’s always so good with his hands, no matter the context.

Soon, though, the desire simmering in her belly subsides to something more warm and enduring. With his brow quirked in focus like that, it’s easy to see the man she fell for all those years ago, the one who challenged her when she needed it and held her when she wanted it, even when her faith in the entire world—and herself—had been shattered.

Link cracks four eggs, one after the other, into the pan atop the half-cooked sausage patties. “Can you make up some toast?” he signs one-handed, refusing to release his spatula. 

Midna goes through the motion of cutting the bread and getting it on the heat, but her mind is firmly elsewhere. On nights where all they had were each other. On nights when they had more, but chose one another still.

She doesn’t notice Link’s signing until he’s tapping her on the shoulder insistently to get her attention. “Midna! Seriously?”

“What?” She glares. That was a nice memory!

“You burned the Din-damned toast!”

Midna looks over Link’s shoulder—an easy task, with how much height she has on him—to see four pieces of blackened bread smoking away on the counter. She belatedly realizes that the air smells awful, acrid with charcoal. 

“In my defense, I was thinking of how cute you are.”

Link rolls his wolf eyes at her and thrusts a plate into her hands. A curved heap of pan-scrambled eggs smiles at her under two sausage-patty eyes. “Shut up and eat your breakfast.”

Link isn’t sure how he got here, but he’s pretty sure he likes it. 

Well, that’s a lie. He knows how he got here, it’s just that it feels like a fever dream to remember. Still, remember it he can. Midna had suggested that he might like her mysterious woman as much as she does, promised that the woman had seemed intrigued and open to it as well, gave them the place and time. Introduced them. And then pranced off, cackling like some sort of storybook villain, into the night. 

And here he is, arm in arm on the streets of Castletown with Hyrule’s princess. 

With the winter solstice celebration on the horizon, Castletown buzzes with seasonal visitors. Candles meant to invoke and bolster the magic of the Light Spirits as their powers wane with winter’s coming line residential windows, and while many homes still have pumpkins and leaf wreaths from the harvest season on their doors, others are beginning to replace them with spicy-smelling pine boughs. Link wonders absentmindedly where they got them—the market? Did they go out and pick them from trees outside of the town’s sturdy stone walls themselves?

He broaches the question to Zelda, a little hesitantly. While their stroll around the streets and squares has been amicable so far, things still feel a little awkward. They’re both quiet in different ways: Link in the ‘I’m not great with new people’ way, and Zelda in the ‘I want to show you I’m listening and I care’ way, which is unfortunate when paired with someone who isn’t doing much talking. 

“That is an excellent question!” Her eyes light up, and Link feels a flicker of satisfaction and pride at the response. “You’re actually correct on both counts. The closest pine groves to Castletown are to the north, but as you’ve no doubt noted, there is no north gate to the town, as the Castle lies that way. Thus those who source their boughs from outside typically go on day trips. It takes about half a day if one goes on horseback; those harvesting in bulk with a wagon spend about a day in total. Those who pick extra often do sell them in the marketplace, or gift them, for those people unable to go to the groves themselves.”

Link nods in understanding. “They’re very interesting. I like the ones with additional decoration.” He points to a wreath on a door to their right, barely visible from how deeply it’s set into the alley. That one has pinecones and bright red berries sprinkled throughout.

“I want to eat them,” he signs, the motions small. 

“You what?”

His hands jitter in place with indecision, a kinetic ‘um’ of the first kind, and then sign an apology. “You weren’t supposed to see that!” At her quizzical stare—she’s really cute when she tilts her head to the side like that—he adds on, “I didn’t think you…were watching me that closely. It was just meant for myself.”

Zelda smiles at him, and he feels his heart leap up to his throat and embed there with the speed of an arrow. “I’m enjoying watching you. I like the way you watch everything so closely. You notice things about my world that slip my notice these days, and it’s refreshing to experience them through your eyes.”

Link flushes, and imagines that the heat of his skin is giving off steam in the cold night air. “That—I—you—” He stumbles through several more signs that amount to nothing more than babble. “I like watching you too!” 

He about collapses to the cobblestones with embarrassment at her laugh. “Hm, but I’m not necessary to keep an eye on, since I don’t communicate through sign.” She arches an eyebrow at him, and something passes through his stomach with the gravity of a thundercloud over Hyrule Field. “Perhaps there’s something else that attracts your gaze?”

Oh, oh, there’s the lightning. He feels it crackle through his chest and down to his toes and back again. 

“Perhaps there is,” he replies, and hopes she can’t see the way his hands tremble ever so slightly with newfound desire. 

Of course, his hopes never come true when it comes to these women. “Your hands are shaking, Link. Are you cold, perchance?” Her tone is innocent enough that if he wasn’t looking right at the teasing heat hiding in her slate-grey irises, he might have thought her entirely sincere in her concern. “There’s a delightful shop near here that sells all sorts of warm beverages. Cider, tea, milk, even a new import known as kaffe.” She smiles. “I’m quite partial to it myself.”

“Doesn’t kaffe keep one up at night?” Link cocks his head in confusion. 

“Certainly. It’s exceedingly helpful on the days I’m called into audiences with the Cabinet of Representatives, and then have a mountain of reports to read and paperwork to complete.”

“But…wouldn’t that keep you up way too late tonight?” 

“I’d rather enjoy staying up late with you. In many senses.”

Link doesn’t even know what he signs in response to that, but it must have been some sort of vigorous agreement, because they’ve set off towards Zelda’s little shop with vim in their step. He tries to distract himself from taking in the flush in Zelda’s cheeks from the chill and their flirtation, the slight frizziness in her chestnut hair from her winter layers, the power in her stride and how it ceaselessly reminds him that she has legs. Unfortunately, as charming as the houses lining the avenues are, they hardly compare to hers. 

One wreath does stand out to him, however, as they approach the shopfront. The residential balcony atop the shop has a particularly jaunty whittled squirrel accompanying the more typical pinecones and berries, and he grins at it.

He taps Zelda on the shoulder gently to get her attention. She pauses in the midst of reaching for the doorknob. 

“Look up,” he signs, and points to the adorable squirrel. She follows the line of his finger, and he takes in the sunshine of her delighted smile at the same time that her shoulder brushes his own: the first time they’ve touched all evening with the exception of their linked elbows.

Lightning sparks through him once again. He can taste it in the roof of his mouth, under the root of his tongue. 

Midna is very familiar with his taste in women, it would seem. He will never, ever admit it, under pain of death. She’d be insufferable for weeks. 

Yet, as he walks through the door that Zelda holds open for him, he thinks he might not even mind. 

They sleep conjoined for three nights straight. They wander Twilain with Midna as their erstwhile guide, who gets far too much of a kick out of Zelda and Link’s stunned expressions with every brush with techno-magic. Link nearly faints when Zelda cleans syrup made from some sort of tart berry off of Midna’s face with her thumb and then sucks it clean in the middle of the restaurant like it’s nothing, and then ends up cooking the next two meals in a row because they find themselves unable to get out of their rooms without someone being pinned to a door.

They argue about how this is going to work, how they’re going to share, how they can be together all at once when they are two princesses and a goatherd, when only two share the same physical realm and those two don’t share the same hierarchical realm. Link accuses Zelda of inane optimism, and she locks herself in the bathroom with magic for an hour until Midna teleports under the door with her shadow-hopping magic and brings her out after a hushed conversation. They fall asleep together, not one eye unreddened between them, but with a refreshed desire to try.

They exchange letters through an increasingly beleaguered Postman. They meet in Hyrule Castle, in Link’s treehouse in Ordon, in a bungalow in a Twilaiin mangrove forest. They are complicated and complex. They are unbelievably, incandescently happy. 

One night, six months into their arrangement, Zelda wakes. The glowing hands of the Twilaiin clock on Midna’s nightstand inform her that it’s three in the morning: witching hour. She certainly feels spellbound as she stares at her lovers; at Link’s green and brown and gold, Midna’s black and white and orange, and her own purple and white and gold. A mixed palette of one another. Complimentary colors, somehow, against every sense of color theory.

Midna and Link blink open groggy eyes when Zelda wriggles between them, tears streaking down her face. Her eyes are wild but sure.

Link and Midna have devoted themselves to one another for years. Midna’s heart has held Zelda’s portrait in it for decades, fleshed out from a pencil sketch to an oil painting. They know immediately what this is, what it means. They can see it in the dark of the room; they can hear it in the catch of Zelda’s breaths in her lungs.

“I love you too,” Midna whispers, tracing one hand up the soft curve of Zelda’s spine.

“I love you too,” Link signs, his fingers tender on Zelda’s cheek. 

“I’m yours,” Zelda cries, and throws her arms wide around them both.

It is an imperfect way to put into words what has been building between them, even when the language of tight squeezes and grasping arms is added in and built upon. No sentence or paragraph or lifetime of novels could cover it, if they spent the rest of their lives orating and writing it down. They are simply too complex and complicated. 

But they are unbelievably, incandescently happy. And in this moment, it is enough.

[quoteablebooks]

Genre: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Adult, Fantasy

Rating: 3.75 out of 5

Content Warning: Suicidal thoughts, Suicide attempt, Death, Sexual content, Mental illness        

Summary:

A Life No One Will Remember. A Story You Will Never Forget. France, 1714: in a moment of desperation, a young woman makes a Faustian bargain to live forever—and is cursed to be forgotten by everyone she meets. Thus begins the extraordinary life of Addie LaRue, and a dazzling adventure that will play out across centuries and continents, across history and art, as a young woman learns how far she will go to leave her mark on the world. But everything changes when, after nearly 300 years, Addie stumbles across a young man in a hidden bookstore and he remembers her name. In the vein of The Time Traveler's Wife and Life After Life, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue is New York Times bestselling author V. E. Schwab's #1 New York Times Bestselling Author genre-defying tour de force.

*Opinions*

This is another social media read as everyone is constantly talking about it, though I have started to finally see some negative reviews of this novel. It is hard to believe that this book was written in 2020 as I feel like everyone is still constantly talking about this novel. My reading experience with this was much like the one I had with The Nightengale by Kristin Hannah, almost 70 percent through this book I didn’t understand why everyone was so enthralled with this book and then I spent the like 15 percent sobbing on my couch as I finished the story. I have some complicated feelings about this novel and what to rate it, but if I wait to write a review it isn’t going to happen, so we’re just going to see how this goes. 

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue I think is more about themes and philosophical questions than a singular plot. While the story between Addie and Henry had a more cohesive nature to it, the whole novel is more vignettes than a whole novel. It makes sense once you understand the framing of the story, but at times I kept wondering when the action of the story was going to start. Throughout most of the novel, I was going to give it three stars, because it is well written but I wasn’t connecting with the characters, but then the end of the novel really brought it all together. I wouldn’t say it was a happy ending, but I did find it satisfying. This is one of those novels that I think I will like more upon rereading and I did buy a copy for my personal collection. 

I think that Schwab did a wonderful job of capturing the hopelessness of depression and the burden of loneliness. The writing was very beautiful and the whole last 15 percent of the novel was emotional and real. However, I didn’t get that emotion during the other 85 percent of the book and that is what I have a problem with. Perhaps it is the framing, but we know that Addie survives, we know that none of these experiences break her, so it kind of took the bite out of them for me. I understood her desire to live her life, to be scared of dying in the same small plot of land, but after she made the deal I knew she wasn’t going to die. It wasn’t until we meet Henry, a character that we don’t know what the future holds, that I actually felt as if the story has stakes. He is actually what I connected to in this story more than Addie, which might be the point. One of the questions in the novel is whether Addie is still human or not because no one remembers her and she cannot latch onto or interact with anyone. As a reader, however, it made the middle of the novel drag a bit. 

The toxic relationship between Addie and Luc was very interesting, but I don’t think it was explored nearly enough. Because everything is told in vignettes, I really didn’t see what pulled Addie to Luc other than he was the only one that remembered her. We only get to see these conversations every couple of years, one night a year, and even when they see each other more often it is glossed over. Because of that, that relationship held no weight for me, one way or another. I needed to see more of them for any of that to hold weight. 

I would talk about the plot, but there really wasn’t much of one in my opinion. Again, I have no idea how to talk about this book and I know I’ll be thinking about these characters and certain scenes, but to tell you what this book is about? Could not be me. 

Overall, I would cautiously recommend this book to others. If you are comfortable with a slow-paced story that is more about what makes a life a life and a human a human, with a romance sprinkled in then you will enjoy this story. If you are more into plots, fast-paced stories, or a more cohesive story I would not suggest this novel. I feel like this is a very subjective read but overall I am going to give it 3.75 rounded up to a 4.

[jacobtheloofah]

oopsie i wrote way more of a rant/ramble about modern art than i anticipated i would here we go

anyway yeah i really am torn between two worlds with this movement of people criticizing modern art for often being excessively simple to the point of them saying "i could do that" and also seemingly lacking any immediately obvious substance, cuz i think there's two perspectives where either this point is 100% valid and a critique of the rich or it's pretty dumb and just lacks any desire for artistic perspective or a deeper understanding of the piece

on the one hand you've got cases like this where reading into the context of the piece and the substances it's made of it becomes so clear that yeah its a simple piece but my god does it hold deeper meaning. the other example in this vein that comes to mind is "untitled" aka "portrait of ross in la" by felix gonzalez-torres

y'all here on tumblr may very well know this piece but if you don't it is physically what you see, a pile of pieces of candy in the corner. people are allowed to take a piece of candy from the pile, but the pile is maintained by mass in order to match the average weight of an adult man. it's named after the artist's parter, ross, who died of complications from aids in the 90's, unfortunately only a few years before the artist himself also died in the same vein. if you were just walking through a museum looking for pieces that are so visually accessible that you deem them unworthy of artistic merit because you yourself "could do that" then yeah this would fit the description, but understanding the context as well as the factor of the interactivity implying the "taking away" of the figure's weight and personhood, as if they were being consumed by aids, then it's a whole different thing.

nested in this is the idea that all the "stupidly simple" modern art is an invention of the last 50 years or so and "true art" has lost its way, which uh no? no its not. no it hasn't. check it out:

that is "black square," a piece which many people would be like "oh yeah which nepo baby made that" well here is the artist:

kazimir malevich, born during the days of the russian empire. this piece above was made in 1915, cuz during that time art was going through an early phase of people exploring absurdism, minimalism, and impressionism. this was around a similar time in europe where "futurism" was a big artistic movement (which was characterized in part by intensity and violence which ended up inspiring a lot of early fascists oopsie daisy) which had futurist theater productions where nobody was on stage and a gun was fired off stage across the playing space, and that was the whole play. so yeah this kind of stuff is not as "new" as we would consider and while i don't have the background or knowhow to speak to what each and every piece that's like this stands for, its worth looking deeper and considering for a second what is going on behind these seemingly simple pieces.

on the other hand...there is certainly a classist perspective to modern art and museums and all that stuff, cuz for many many many many years the idea of "high art" and "high class" things being associated with those who have education, intellect, more proper behavior and means, and of course more money has led to this whole attitude surrounding art of "oh you just don't get it" or the fetishization of modern art despite the comparative lack of substance to the art. is there a guarantee that every piece of minimalist art in a museum is substantive and coming from a real meaningful background? no, of course not. some rich artist could've paid his way into his piece being in the museum. and of course there's examples of rich idiots paying their way into the fine art space without even making the art themselves

that's jeff koons. he makes those metal balloon animal art pieces as well as many other campy/kitsch art pieces. he's rich and pays for a studio of assistants (as well as having some automated factors in the system) to make the art he designs. he sucks and his art sucks, fuck him. he's like the elon musk of modern art.

so what the fuck is my point with all this

well if you ask me, at the end of the day art is a conversation between the artist and the audience. the artist puts some intent or thought into the piece, and the audience approaches the art with a certain intent and gets a certain thought out of it. if an artist has a specific intent and thought making a very minimalist piece and you walk up to it with the intent of seeing some bullshit art and the thought that comes to mind is "yep, that's bullshit" then guess what? you just engaged with art!! you did it! mission complete! you don't have to appreciate art for the art to serve its purpose in the grand scheme, but of course enjoying art is half the battle.

if you want my advice on how to engage with any form of art, i'd say figure out your intent first. do you wanna see art that makes you think and ask questions? do you wanna see art that allows you to appreciate the craft that went into it? do you wanna see art that is traditionally aesthetically pleasing? do you just wanna spend some time in a museum for the hell of it? these are all valid ways of engaging with art in their own respects, and there's guaranteed to be art in most museums that can serve all these purposes. but then when it comes to this "i could do that" idea, well you already played the role of the audience, why not try out being the artist? go get some canvases and paint, or some drawing pads and some pencils and pens. make some art. replicate the bullshit art you saw and criticized. do you feel anything? do you have any ideas of what you would do instead? try that. if you do feel something with the original replication, explore that. find what intrigues you and pursue it. come to understand the craft, how someone can make a massive flat canvas with one uniform color so consistent, how you have to paint that to create that effect. splatter some paint on a canvas and see how you create layers of colors that you can distinguish and not end up with something muddied and unclear. understand how you create form and perspective in drawing, try it for yourself and see where it takes you.

if you think "i could do that," then do it. give it a shot. maybe you'll feel something.

(also if you have a legit art history background then please forgive me if i fucked any of this up i have a theater degree im just spitballing here okay bye)

i do not think you could do that actually, tiktok user

[twinkleimagines]

frenemies

summary: You catch feelings for your nemesis Rafe Cameron and notice his change of how he started interacting with you, so you begin and hoping he feels the same, so you decide to take the risk to confront him and see what his true intentions are.

5.5k words

LONG!

Part two, part 3 , part four (final)

Warning: Language, smut, physical and verbal fighting.

Rafe Cameron.

The most loved and also the most hated Kook in the OBX.

You and your pogue friends despised this guy, or at least you were suppose to.

But for some reason, between all the bickering you two had done over the summer, you've managed to fall for him.

I know- what the fuck.

It blew your mind too. He was never nice. Always making fun of the Pogues, practically humiliating you all every chance he got. You guys were nothing but broke thieves who took whatever you wanted no matter who it hurt. You guys were scum, the dirt on the bottom of his shoe, a bunch of nobody's that will never make it anywhere in life.

Which is obviously not true, but to Rafe - that's what you ‘dirty Pogues’ were.

You didn’t care for the name calling though. You honestly could say the same thing about the Kooks. They cheat their way into life, never have to work for anything , always have mommy and daddy's money to get them through any obstacle. But you knew not all Kooks were like that. Take your best friend Kiara for example. She's a 'kook' by the book, but by the streets she’s a Full Pogue at heart.

but for some reason though, Rafe would spend most his time trying to find a way to harass the shit out of you specifically. He could have a million Pogues around him yet he always found his way through the crowd to have some conversation with you even if it was to drag your name through the mud.

You first realized the feelings you had for Rafe when you began craving his presence.

It was the annual bonfire that you and your friends had went to , a place where all teens and young adults mixed from all clicks. Tourists, Pogues, and even Kooks. Everyone was there.

You stood next to the fire with JJ and Pope, two of your closest friends as the night grew louder, more people filling in. You watched the crowds as the piled up on the sand, but your eyes roamed for Rafe himself. You were almost mad at yourself for actively searching for him. And it wasn’t even like you were looking for him so you could avoid him, but searching so you could see him and hopefully grab his attention.

You continuously questioned yourself as to Why you were looking for this jerk off to begin with. All he was going to do was put you down and try to humiliate you in front of all of your friends.

But for some reason, when your eyes landed on that tall brown headed boy, his hair for once not greased back, a wide grin on his face as he wore a black t-shirt and a red cup in his hand- your heart fluttered. You began to grin slightly, seeing him in the distance.

Despite how much of an ass hole he was, Rafe was unbelievably hot. He was toned, Tall, jaw line so sharp it could probably cut you and you could get lost in those blue eyes of his. It excited you so much when he would give you attention. Even the negative attention. At this point you just enjoyed looking at him and hearing your name flow out of his mouth.

"earth to Y/n" JJ spoke out stepping out in front of you blocking your view to Rafe, and ultimately bringing you out of your trance.

“huh” you responded dumbfounded .

“Pope thinks I’m stupid for eating food with mold on it” JJ said throwing his hands up, you grin as you watched the blonde boy try to seriously defend his theory. Pope’s eyes widened throwing his hands up as well, looking towards you for agreement.

“It’s a Fungi bro! nothing good comes from Eating mold!” Pope argued back. JJ shook his head, disagreeing with Pope’s statement .

“dude, mold is good for you ok it’s just a natural organism “ He stated, dropping his hands down to his sides.

“You’re fucking nasty” You laughed out before pushing onto JJ’s shoulder. You hadn’t realized it yet, but your laugh caught a certain boy’s attention. the moment Rafe heard that familiar tune, his head turned to your direction, his eyes focused on you as you threw your head back with laughter.

“Well well well if it isn’t Ms. Sarah Cameron “ JJ spoke as he walked up towards one of your best friend, John B, and Rafe’s younger sister, Sarah. They both looked in your direction taking a few steps away from each other as if it wasn’t obvious that they were talking.

You didn’t hate Sarah per-say, but one time she did make out with your ex boyfriend while at a party. She claimed he told her he was single and she was just looking for a good night but Sarah was known for always wanting attention so you were doubtful on the fact that she was ‘unaware’ that he was your boyfriend.

You were the only one who knew John B’s crush on Sarah. He had started working for her father after his father went missing, and you were the only one who had caught on to his different approach when Sarah was ever mentioned, or how his cheeks would go slightly red when she would walk by. You didn’t blame him, the Cameron siblings were fucking hot.

“Hi JJ’ Sarah said with a grin. You stood to the side of Pope, looking around for Kiara, only to find her sat with a group of more Pogues talking their heads off.

JJ began trying to include Sarah into his previous ‘mold is good for you’ argument while your focus drifted off, your eyes roaming the crowd once again.

You managed to look back over to where you had first saw Rafe standing, only this time he was no where to be found.

“sarah baby c’mon” you heard someone say. You looked over, Your eyes widening to see Rafe and Topper standing in front of you next to Sarah. You knew this wasn’t a group that needed to be mixed, but seeing Rafe excited you. Your eyes landed on his, your heart beginning to flutter. You hated the fact that you two were enemies. It sucked looking at someone the way you did, knowing they were only looking back at you with hatred and pure disgust. At least you thought.

“Oh c’mon Topper can’t the girl just have a little fun?” JJ laughed out, his alcohol clearly running through his veins.

“You Pogues don’t know the meaning of fun JJ” Topper laughed out. You rolled your eyes shaking your head.

“Go the fuck on Topper “ you spat out, your eyes lifting some towards Rafe before going back to Topper. You could feel yourself kicking up a sweat, maybe from the alcohol , or maybe from the fact that Rafe’s eyes were already on yours when you looked at him. He even had a smirk plastered on his face, probably from the fact he gets off on the fighting.

“Oooohhh someone’s ballsy tonight huh?” Topper laughed bringing the attention to you.

“No im just sick and tired of you stuck up kooks always trying to ruin a good time” You scoffed out, crossing your arms over chest.

“Y/n you wouldn’t know the meaning of a good time if it slapped you in the face alright?” Rafe said. He furrowed his brows together when he realized a smirk rising on your face once you looked over at him. He didn’t know what to think considering the other times you were giving him an ‘ eat shit ‘ look, but this time it was almost as if you were happy he was commenting towards you.

“Oh right, having random hook ups and snorting a line of coke every night is a good time huh Rafe?” You scoffed out sarcastly. “ yeah I think I’ll pass” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“ Listen JJ you and your little bitch need to just go back to the cut where you came from-“ you glanced at Rafe, only to see him looking at Topper with anger as if he was upset at him for calling you that , but before you could further analyze his expression, JJ pushed against Topper’s chest, slinging Topper backwards.

“you watch your mouth” JJ spat out pointing his finger towards Topper’s face. John B quickly stepped in , pulling JJ back away from Topper who was now laughing like an idiot, excited for the action that he thought was about to happen.

“Yeah go ahead Johnny boy go ahead and play dad “ Topper spat out as John B continued practically dragging JJ away from the group. “just don’t go abandoning him like your dad did ” He yelled out. Your mouth flew open in shock, seeing John B stop in his tracks but before he could even respond, your hand slapped straight across Topper’s cheek, causing his head to bounce side ways.

“go suck on your moms tits some more you fucking prick” You scowled before turning on your heals, following your friends. You didn’t even bother to stick around for anymore commentary, your only goal at this point was getting your friends the hell away from here before all hell broke loose.

“never fails man” you heard JJ screamed out in anger as you made it to the parking lot all while Pope continued trying to hush them as they stood next to the twinkie.

“JJ chill!” Pope yelled out as he tried pushing JJ into the Volkswagen but to no avail.

“no man they always get to do and say whatever the hell they want and never get any repercussions for it !” he exclaimed.

He wasn’t wrong, they really did. And if the Pogues fought back they were deemed bad and out of control. You sighed heavily as you watched JJ try to calm himself down, only to realize you had left your phone on the Log you were originally sitting at by the fire.

“Fuck I’ll be right back” You stated, only for your arm to get grabbed by John B.

“No don’t go back there” He instructed but you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine I just left my phone. “ You exclaimed before making your way back down towards the crowd of people.

“Xcuse’ me “ you mumbled as you brushed past people, making your way to the fire.

“Y/n what happened?” Kiara asked popping up from the side, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll explain later , meet you at the twinkie ok? go calm JJ down” You responded, pointing behind you with your thumb towards the van. She rolled her eyes, realizing it was a fight that had happened before turning around, making her way to your friends.

“Just can’t stay away can you?” You heard from behind you. You turn around to see none other than Rafe himself standing proudly. You rolled your eyes before turning back around, walking towards the fire once again. Despite you usually being excited to see him, tonight really put things into perspective for you.

You really were just a ‘dirty pogue’ to these guys, nothing more. There was no point to continue entertaining the thought of anything ever happening between the two of you. You were enemies, and that was all you’d ever be.

“I just came to get something Rafe go away” You huffed out.

“Oh you mean this?” He yelled out , making you stop in your track. You turned around to see Rafe holding your phone up, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“Give me that” you demanded, reaching your hand out, but Rafe pulled back, pulling it out of your reach.

“Rafe!” You yelled out with anger. “Give me my fucking phone dude” You spat out , reaching out again.

“Well what’s in it for me?” he asked , that smirk still obvious on his face.

“Rafe , please” You sighed out, dropping your shoulders slowly giving up. Between the alcohol and it being so late, you didn’t have any energy in you at this point to argue and you were just ready to go home and crash. Rafe noticed the body change in you, his grin falling from his face.

“I’m sorry” he said softly as he held out your phone to you. You were shocked. Rafe apologizing? Nobody but his father had ever heard those words coming from him so for him to say this to you really took you by surprise.

You slowly took the phone from him, your brows furrowed together in confusion.

“uhm,” you said as you pulled your arm back towards yourself. “thanks” you mumbled before turning on your heels making your way back to your friends.

“Y/n stop arguing and just do it!” Your mom yelled at you as she pushed the cleaing cart your way. You had to work with your mom today at the country club unfortunately and you were not even the slightest bit happy about it. She needed help and ‘You teenagers don’t do anything for yourselves’ as she would say, so you were stuck cleaning the floors while she did whatever it is that she does.

“Okay!” you huffed out as you picked up the broom off of the cart, aggressively beginning to sweep against the floor. You rolled your eyes as she mumbled something else to you before walking away, leaving you to clean the room alone.

It wasn’t long after that you heard some familiar voices walking down the hall way towards the room you were in. It most definitely sounded like the horrible three, Topper, Kelce and Rafe. You quickly turned your back towards the door, hoping none of them would notice you since you were alone and you against 3 just didn’t sound like a good time. You continued sweeping as you heard the group laughing as they passed the room you were in, not even paying you no mind. You sighed with relief as you realized they hadn’t noticed you and continued back to sweeping the floors.

“Hey” you heard from behind you. You jumped up gasping loudly as you turned around quickly, only to see Rafe himself standing there .

“God – fuck Rafe you scared the shit out of me. “ You breathed out, your hand over your chest as you tried to calm your heart beat down.

“sorry” he responded. There was that word again that didn’t exist in Rafe’s dictionary. You caught yourself staring before you quickly snapped yourself out of your trance, placing your hand on your hip.

“What do you want Rafe?” You scoffed out. He smirked before walking over to one of the Desks that sat in the room. You watched as he sat down on the edge, grinning as he stared over at you.

“ Never seen you here before.” He stated. You rolled your eyes before you propped your elbow up on your broom, sighing heavily.

“my mom works here. I’m just helping” You exclaimed, not that it was any of his business anyway.

“Huh” He responded nodding his head. He kept quiet once again, leaving the room silent and you beyond confused. You eventually shook your head at him, indicating for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“Look Rafe “ you started, standing yourself up straight. “I have to get back to work so unless you’re here for something important, you can go the fuck on” you finished. Rafe hopped off the edge of the desk, taking a few steps towards you , his body now hovering over yours. You began to feel your heart pound again, this time from the nerves as he stood so close to you. The smell of his cologne, grass and sweat from his Golfing lingering in your nose. you felt your hands begin getting clammy as you tried to hold your composer, your breath hitched in the back of your throat.

Rafe slowly lifted his hands, placing it under your chin, his blue eyes focused on yours. You didn’t know what to do at this point. You’ve had one on one Arguments with rafe before but none where he stood this close, and this quiet with you.

“Rafe” You breathed out as he lifted your chin, your face close together. He grinned once again, leaning in closer to you.

“You’re so beautiful” He said softly. You stared back into his blue eyes for a second before leaning in slightly. You were taken back though as he let go of your face , taking a step back and putting his hands in his pockets.

“ see ya” He responded calmy before walking back out of the room, following back to his friends.

You stood in shock, confused by Rafes actions. You were for sure positive that he was going to kiss you but he didn’t.

“what the fuck?” you mumbled before shaking your head in confusion at Rafe’s actions. You sighed heavily before sweeping your broom across the floor again, trying to regain your compose.

Most of your day went on like normal. You finished work with your mom, your mind only focused on your brief conversation you had with Rafe earlier.

It sucked because you had feelings towards Rafe, and you couldn’t tell if you were overthinking his actions or if he actually was in to you as well.

You had come to a conclusion though- it was one of two options. He was either fucking with you, or he wanted to fuck you. And you were determined to find out by tonight.

“Here goes nothing” You sighed to yourself as you stood outside TannyHill, the outside lights lighting up the big white house. You quickly jumped over the concrete fence, your feet landing in the wet grass.

Your eyes roamed the balcony, trying to remember which area you had seen Rafe standing at before. You bit your bottom lip as you concentrated, only to see Rafe himself walk by one of the windows.

“gotcha” You spoke softly before crouching down some, doing a quick jog across the field in hopes no one would see you.

You quickly managed to climb your way up the house onto the balcony you had just recently seen Rafe at. This was one of the pro’s of being a Pogue. You guys were very athletic and could always find your way to anything no matter the obstacles. You stood catching your breath as your feet finally landed on the wooden floor, the area barely lit by the light from the windows.

“What the fuck am I doing?” You said to yourself as you stood in the dark outside of what looked to be Rafe’s bedroom. You ran your hands through your hair, turning back around to face the field.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you said to yourself again as you began pacing. This is Rafe we’re talking about. Of course this man is just fucking with you. He’s been nothing but a dick to you and your friends for years. why in God’s name would he want you now? You knew you weren’t’ ugly. You were in shape, had decent hair (Even though you probably smelt like sweat sometimes because of how much you spent outside with the gang) But for the most part you cleaned up well.

Plenty of guys wanted you- but you looked nothing like any of the rich girls Rafe hooked up with. Why would he ever want you? It was clear that he was only acting this way towards you so him and his friends could have a good laugh later.

You shook your head in disbelief that you even had the balls to climb this guys house and actually think you could even ask him if he was interested in you. You began to climb back over before you heard a door open. You froze instantly, hoping they wouldn’t see you in the dark but that was just wishful thinking.

“Y/n?” You heard someone say. You mumbled a ‘ fuck’ as you recognized the voice to be Rafe.

“Uhm” You replied awkwardly as you climbed down, turning towards him to face him.

“Care to explain?” He asked throwing his hand up in your direction.

“Uhh” You said awkwardly as you ran your hand through your hair before placing them down your side.

“Y/n what the fuck are you doing climbing up my house at fucking 11 at night” he spat out. You flinched slightly at the harsh tone of his voice, your eyes roaming everywhere but his face , afraid to look at him in humiliation.

“okay so” you started, looking down at your feet. You stood for a second, wondering how you were going to explain yourself without sounding like ta total creep.

“Alight fuck it. “ you breathed out, looking up at Rafe. “You’ve been acting weird towards me, and being all like nice and flirty one minute and a complete ass the next and like – I just need clarification “ You exclaimed before you took in a deep breath, staring at Rafe as you waited for a response. You bit your bottom lip as he continued staring at you with a blank expression.

“Well?” You repeated, but he stayed quiet. You rolled your eyes, annoyed with the mind games he continued to play. “Rafe what is it? You like me or are you like fucking with me?” You spat out in frustration.

He finally changed his expression, this time a cocky smirk forming on his face. He reached out, grabbing one of your hands before walking backwards, leading you to follow him into his bedroom.

“uhh Rafe?” You questioned, confusion written all over your face as his eyes continued staring into yours.

“I’m not explaining myself” He finally spoke, his hair draped over his eyes as he looked down at you. You scrunched your face up as he reached behind you, closing the patio door. He chuckled slightly at your confusion before taking a step back away from you. “I’m just gonna show you” He exclaimed before pulling against your arm, leading you towards the bed before pushing against your shoulder, making you flop down. Your eyes widened as he walked over towards you, a smirk never leaving his face as his hand reached up, pushing away the stray hair in your face.

“You know, I’ve wanted to fuck you for quite sometime” He stated, leaning forward. “I mean look at you,-“ his eyes looked down and then back up your body, landing back onto your eyes, “You’re hot as fuck” He responded. You didn’t have a clue on what to say, so you continued in the same spot , sitting on his bed propped up on your hands behind you.

“You know for a pogue,” He finished, chucking as you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“Why didn’t you say anything ?” You finally spoke, looking up at him through your lashes. His cocky smirk left his face, only to return shortly after.

“Had to make sure the feelings mutual.” He replied , standing back up straight.

“and Who said it was?” You asked , trying to build your confidence back up. Rafe’s smirk widened before he let out a chuckle, his finger pointed out towards the balcony you were just climbing a few minutes ago.

“You did” he replied . you lowered your head some without responding, knowing he wasn’t wrong. HE stared down at you for a few seconds before he leaned in, the tip of his nose touching yours.

“Rafe” You breathed out as he stayed teasingly close.

“Hm” he hummed, not moving his face.

“Just fucking kiss me already” You demanded. Rafe happily obliged, his lips colliding with yours. Your hands immediately made their way to the back of his head, tugging on his hair.

“You wanna lay down for me ?” He asked after a few minutes of your tongues fighting for dominance. You didn’t respond other than nodding before you slowly laid yourself down, your eyes not leaving Rafe’s. Rafe grinned before unbuttoning your shorts, tugging on them. You lifted your hips up from the bed, helping him slide your shorts down as your teeth clamped down around your bottom lip. He stared at your hot pink panties, seeing the darkened area as you were already soaked.

“Soaking wet and I haven’t even touched you” He indicated. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as attempted to lower your head in embarrassment even though he could see you. Your mouth flew open as Rafe leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your damp panties, applying friction against your clit. You moaned out, leaning your head back as he placed the palm of his hand against you, rubbing up and down at a slow pace.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, his voice low and deep. You bit your bottom lip before nodding your head. Rafe grinned before he tugged on your panties, pulling them down to your ankles.

“Spread your legs open baby” He demanded , his voice calming but deep and intimidating.

You grinned before slowly spreading them open, his eyes focused on your heated core the whole time.

You laid your back flat against his bed as he got down on his knees, pulling you by your hips down to the edge of the bed, your bottom hanging off directly across his face .

“Rafe” You moaned out as you felt his warm tongue glide along your slit, his tongue stopping against your clit before he enclosed his lips, sucking slightly. He wiggled his tongue back and forth as his inserted his two index fingers into you, curving upwards. You gripped your hands against his navy blue sheets, gasping loudly as his fingers hit against your g-spot, sending tingling feelings through your body.

Rafe took one of his hands and trailed it up your stomach under your crop top, his hand groping around breasts.

You continued moaning loudly as his finger tips swirled around your nipples while his other hand continued moving rapidly against you, his eyes looking up at you in admiration.

Rafe lifted himself up, his face close to yours as his fingers continued moving inside you.

Y/n” he called out softly causing you to open your eyed and look over at him.

He placed his lips against yours as he slowly grinded himself against your side, pushing his rock hard shaft against you.

“You wanna do this?” He breathed out as he looked down at you, the pace of his fingers slowing down. You nodded looking up at him, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest.

“Yes Rafe” you practically whined out. Rafe moved himself to where he was hovering over you, his lips placed against your neck as he pulled his joggers down some, his member popping against his abs. You breathed out deeply as you watched him line himself up before slowly sliding himself in.

“ fuck” He groaned out as he felt your walls wrap tightly against him. Rafe was not only long, but he was thick all the way around, filling you more than anyone had ever done before. You placed your arms around his neck, holding him close as he began moving his hips against you.

The room was silent, only the sounds of your deep breathing and small groaning from Rafe as he continued rocking his hips in you at a steady pace, one hand placed above your head as the other gripped tightly under your thigh to hold your leg up.

“Rafe go harder” You pleaded. Rafe instead stopped his movements completely before rolling you over onto your stomach. He pulled slightly against your hips causing your bottom to stick up in the air as your face was pressed into the bed.

You gasped loudly as Rafe inserted himself into you again from behind, the new position giving him access to going deeper in you, which was exactly what he did. You felt his hand land on the back of your head, pressing you deeper into the bed as he began grinding his hips deep into you. He began slow at first but then began giving you exactly what you wanted , slamming himself into you over and over again.

At this point the pleasure was overwhelming and you couldn’t hold the moaning in as he continued rocking his hips into you, the sound of skin slapping echoing the room.

“Fuck im gonna cum” Rafe groaned out deeply in your ear, the feeling of your tight warm walls around him bringing him close to his own climax. He began placing sloppy kisses on your back, his pace speeding up. You arched your back feeling yourself clench around him as you orgasmed, your clit pulsing. You whined out, tugging on his sheets as Rafe continued to pound into you, riding out your high.

“Fuck y/n “ Rafe groaned out as he quickly pulled out, pumping himself off shooting his load on your back.

You both stayed in the same position for a few more minutes as you tried catching your breath before Rafe grabbed a napkin from his nightstand, wiping your back off.

You rolled over, laying on your back as Rafe put his bottoms back On before looking back over at you out of breath. You grinned as your eyes roamed his glistening body, his abs very prominent and his hair stuck to his forehead from sweat.

“ You should’ve definitely came to me sooner” you finally spoke out with a giggle. He sat down on the edge if the bed chuckling slightly.

“Yeah, that was nice. “ He responded. The room became silent, you both just sitting awkwardly while you laid on his bed still naked. After a moment of silence, you finally sat up, pulling his top sheet with you while getting up off the bed.

“Soo” You said awkwardly as you wrapped the sheet over your sweaty body.

“you can use the front door ” He responded looking up at you. You almost wanted to slap him at this point, realizing he was indicating for you to leave. You scoffed while rolling your eyes before turning away, picking your clothing up off the floor.

“What?” He asked as he continued sitting on the edge of the bed, noticing you aggressively picking your clothes up in anger.

“Nothing Rafe” you mumbled as you pulled your shorts back up up your legs, turning your back towards him.

“Hey” He responded standing up, grabbing your hand after you pulled your top over your head.

“What” You replied back, looking up at him with anger.

“I wasn’t saying you had to leave now I was just saying you didn’t have to climb down the house again” He exclaimed. You stood for a second before shaking your head.

“I should go anyways, it’s late” You replied before walking over towards your shoes, sliding them on over you feet. “but don’t worry I’ll take the balcony so no one sees me”. Rafe wanted to reply to your comment but instead he stayed quiet as he watched you make your way back to his balcony before stopping, leaving your hand on the doorknob.

“Uhm” You spoke , causing him to look up at you. “I’ll see you later?” You stated, more like questioned just for your own clarification. He grinned before nodding his head, walking towards you. He walked you out to the balcony, helping you over the edge before watching you climb down to the ground to make sure you made it down safely.

You did a light jog back towards the concrete wall before turning around, looking up at the balcony. You grinned when you saw him still standing there watching you. You gave him a wave before turning on your feet, climbing back over the fence and going home.

***

Sorry I’ve been incognito for a while but ya girl is back 🥲

Also,

✨As always feedback, like, and a reblog is always appreciated ! ✨

Masterlist

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The More Loving One

Masterlist

Summary: Professor Reid finds himself falling for a student. 

A/N: This fic is based on this request. I changed a few things up, but I hope you like the finished product!

Long time, no see! It seems like forever since I got to sit down and just enjoy writing something. And enjoy this, I did. I approached this one a bit differently than I usually do, but I like how it turned out none the less. I hope you all enjoy my take on the Professor Reid arc. The first poem I use in this fic is titled The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, and the second is from a collection of Perry poetry.

Also, I recently hit 2k followers, which is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t even begin to explain how thankful I am for each and every one of you. This fic is my love letter to you. Thank you all so much. 

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: a few swear words maybe?, teacher x student relationship, age gap, exhibitionism (sorta?), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4k

           For as long as Spencer can remember, he’s always had a predilection for the finer things in life.

           Spencer attributes the origin of his preferences to his upbringing. In his childhood, before his mother’s disease got the better of her, she exposed him to all sorts of literature. While he ventured to read all types of writings, he’d always been partial to tales of extravagance. A young Spencer Reid sought refuge in the profligacy of it all, as it was so starkly different from his own reality. Forced to bear the burden of household and a sick mother from an early age, Spencer’s own life left little room for reckless indulgence.

           Now, as a single adult male, Spencer makes it a point to give himself up to the finer things as often as he can. Spencer isn’t a rich man, nor is he careless with what hard-earned money he does have. He simply likes to treat himself to the occasional five-star meal, and even more frequently, posh clothing and rare books. Walls lined with hundreds of antiquarian novels and a closet full of Comme Des Garçon cardigans are where the indulgence ends, however, and until recently Spencer was content with this.

           But when she strolls into his life on the very first day of his teaching career, Spencer knows that his small luxuries will no longer be enough to keep him satisfied. The part of him that longs to have only the very best roars to life as he takes in every perfect inch of her. She stands before him, the embodiment of divinity and grace, looking like every fantasy he only dares to conjure up in the late hours of the night. A litany of cliches from every piece of romantic literature he’s ever read spring to the forefront of his mind in the instant that her eyes met his, but there is nothing stereotypical about the way her gaze banishes the air from his lungs. It is as jarring as it is intoxicating. He never wants to look away.

           Unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same. With a light flush of her cheeks, she turns away from him, and in an equally unfortunate turn of events, she proceeds to shuffle down the aisle and into the second row of seats to the right of the podium. The realization that washes over him feels like ice water in his veins.

           She’s a student. Worse even – she’s his student.

           Spencer wrenches his gaze from her as if he’s been burned, and the fiery shame of his embarrassment makes him tug at his collar. As he struggles to stave away the lingering heat in his chest and even more embarrassingly, the tightness in his trousers, Spencer chastises himself. His own carnal urges often go ignored, a fact that is glaringly obvious as he cowers behind his podium in an attempt to hide his arousal. He feels more than a little bit pathetic. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man gets hard just from gazing upon a beautiful young woman.

           When Spencer pulls himself together enough to start his lecture, he positively forbids himself to look her way. It is hard to fight the urge, but every time he catches his eyes wandering to her, he reminds himself that she is an indulgence he simply cannot partake in. No matter how badly he wants to.

--

           It doesn’t take long for her to notice him noticing her.

           In the early days of the semester, she manages to convince herself that the stolen glances are but a figment of her overactive imagination. That, or an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking. But as the semester stretches on and the professor’s eyes linger more and more, wishful thinking gives way to a startling realization that she isn’t alone in her attraction. Professor Reid is, to her complete and utter astonishment, just as taken with her as she is with him.

           This is all but confirmed when a slight brushing of the hands during an exchange of papers leaves them both with flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. Both of their heads snap up, two sets of eyes meeting in a prolonged stare that results in an understanding of sorts. It’s mutual, this thing blossoming between them. She can see her own hopes reflected in two velvet pools of brown – can see the longing, the desire that burns within them. Her heart soars, as she imagines his does, and she accepts the papers with a smile.

           She also imagines that, if he could, he would tell her to wait for him. He would tell her that, for now, their relationship must stay strictly professional.

           This doesn’t stop them from sating their cravings in other ways.

           She makes it a point to stop by during office hours at least twice a week. Her visits always fall under the guise of her studies, but within minutes their hushed conversations stray from the professional and towards a more personal nature. She learns of Spencer’s mother and her condition, of his unusual job and his coworkers that were more like family. In return, she tells him about her upbringing in southern California, as well as her dreams of becoming a criminal psychologist. They never go as far as to discuss what will happen when the semester comes to a close. It is an unspoken agreement that the end of the semester will find them in each other’s arms. All they have to do is wait.

           Spencer can’t voice his affections with words, but he more than makes up for this with his actions. Without fail, every Monday following the very first clandestine brushing of hands, lavish bouquets of flowers arrive at her workplace. Each bouquet is always paired with a notecard inscribed with a brief explanation of the meaning behind that week’s flower of choice. Cherry blossoms to pay homage to her beauty, plumeria to symbolize their new beginning, agrimony to convey his thankfulness that she is willing to wait for him.

           Her favorite bouquet arrives four weeks before the end of the semester. As she steps through the doors of the bakery, a vase full of nine red roses sits atop the counter. The sight of them nearly takes her breath away. She pauses for a moment and runs her fingertips across the velveteen petals before plucking the notecard from its place.

           This week, Spencer chooses to forgo the explanation in favor of a messily scrawled poem;

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

that, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

we have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn 

with a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me. 

           That evening, Spencer receives his first bouquet from her. On his desk sits an arrangement of pale pink ambrosia.

           The meaning isn’t lost on him, but if it were, the note that sits next to the vase makes her intentions clear.

We never had to force love.

We were drowning in it from the moment we met.

--

           Spencer is horribly frustrated.

           A mere twenty feet away from where he stands, the notoriously garish and wholly unprofessional PhD program director is gesticulating wildly to the young woman that stands trapped between him and the hors d’oeuvre table. To find Professor Van Wesep in such a position is not uncommon, due to his penchant for trying to charm (terrorize) the prospective female doctoral candidates. The man is practically a walking harassment complaint waiting to happen. Spencer would abhor Van Wesep even if he weren’t the only thing standing in the way of him and his lover.

           At long last, the semester has drawn to a close. The lonely nights spent longing to hold her in his arms are a thing of the past. By the time the sun rises again, Spencer will no longer have to wonder what her body will feel like pressed against his. He’ll be thoroughly acquainted with every inch of her, and she with him. The thought sends a thrilled chill down his spine.

           The torturous foreplay they’ve been engaging in for the last four months would have surely broken a lesser man. Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted on more than one occasion to have her during one of her frequent visits to his office. Some days, when her visits came later in the evenings, just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, her eyes would glisten in such a way that told Spencer her thoughts were none dissimilar to his own. That glimmer of lust had him holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth.

           And here they were, on the last evening of the semester. Final grades had been submitted and were released hours prior. Spencer would have been content to skip this event altogether, in favor of more… recreational activities, but his lover insisted on attending.

           Initially, Spencer assumed her insistence lay in her desire to mingle with her future peers and mentors. Her true intentions come to light when she breezes into the room clad in a pair of sleek, designer pumps. Her lips, painted fire engine red, curl up into a playful smile at the sight of a slack-jawed Spencer Reid. The devious glint in her eye twinkles sinfully in the light.

           Tonight isn’t a social call at all. Tonight, she wants to play with him.

           And play she has.

           From the second she arrives all eyes are fixating on her celestial beauty. Peers and mentors alike trip over themselves in their haste to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment. She works the room flawlessly, leaving a trail of smitten men of all ages in her wake.

           The most smitten is Spencer himself, because he’s the lone recipient of countless heated glances, as well as more than a few knowing smirks. She well aware of what she’s doing to him, and she takes pleasure in watching him squirm.

          Spencer intervenes when Van Wesep makes the ill-advised decision to reach a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He barely has the time to withdraw his hand before Spencer is upon them.

          “I apologize for the interruption,” Spencer casts a faux apologetic glance at his colleague, before settling his gaze on his target. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you for a moment?”

           She looks positively gleeful. Perhaps Spencer should have intervened hours ago.

           “Absolutely, Professor Reid.”

           The honorific sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He definitely should have stolen her away earlier.

           The two of them say their goodbyes to a confused Professor Van Wesep, whose imploring eyes follow them as they hurriedly slip from the party and down the hallway.

--

           “Where are we going?”

           Spencer leads her down a long corridor, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positions her between himself and the cold wooden door of an unoccupied office. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant thrum of the music and the eager pants falling from his lover’s lips.

           Spencer pulls her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other finding purchase on her waist. He worries for a moment that he’s being too rough with her, that he should have taken a more careful approach to their first kiss, but she assuages those worries when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hand reaches between them and clutches his tie, then she’s pulling him closer and whining wantonly against his lips. Spencer takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and he finds himself letting out a low groan when he tastes a hint of strawberry.

           Spencer pulls away to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

           “Oh, I think I do, Professor,” she laughs, breathless. “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

           Spencer jolts forward when her hand slides down to cup him over his trousers.

           “Could’ve done that a lot earlier if you hadn’t insisted on teasing me for the entire night,” Spencer growls through gritted teeth. He’s more than a little proud of his ability to string together a sentence with her hand working him over with slow, steady strokes.

           He trails a line of kisses across the underside of her jaw, before taking her earlobe and nipping it lightly with his canine. Spencer’s actions are rewarded with a full body shudder. He dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat and her hands ball into fists against his dress shirt.

           “Spencer, please.”

           Spencer hums and pulls back to look at her. The hand in her hair lowers, and he trails a thumb across where her nipples are hard against the fabric of her dress.

           “Yes, my love?”

           Her eyes flutter against the weight of her arousal, and Spencer twitches in his pants. The sight of her with her hair disheveled and her lipstick smeared on account of him is a heavenly thing. He doesn’t know how he ever deprived himself of such a splendor.

           “I want you. Right now.” She punctuates her words by pulling him down into a frenzied kiss. One of her hands tangles itself in the hair at the nape of his neck while the other busies with tugging his shirt out of his pants.

           “Right now?” Spencer taunts, mouth against mouth. His hand trails down the side of her breast, caressing her rib cage and her hip before stopping at her upper thigh. Spencer’s fingertips toy with the tops of her lace thigh highs. “But anyone could walk by and see us.”

           “I don’t care,” she argues, fumbling clumsily as she struggles to undo his belt buckle.

           Spencer’s wandering hand dips below the hem of her dress to explore the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh. She’s soft here, too, he thinks to himself as his hand travels up, up, up. He stops just short of where she wants him most and she lets out a despairing cry.

           “You wouldn’t mind someone walking by and seeing you with your pretty legs spread wide for your professor?”

           Spencer brings life to his words by lifting her leg up, hitching her thigh around his hip and pressing into her. The silk fabric of her dress rustles as he pushes it up and out of the way.

           A breathy moan tumbles from her lips as he rocks against her, dragging his arousal up and down the front of her lace panties. The friction is maddening in that it provides only the smallest bit of relief. It’s not enough for Spencer, and judging by the way she desperately pushes down the fabric of his pants, it’s not enough for his partner, either.

           “Need to get these off now,” she murmurs against Spencer’s mouth. An eager hand tugs at the elastic band of his underwear.

           Spencer places his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Not so fast, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first.”

           Her fingers clamp down on Spencer’s wrist, guiding him to the sodden lace between her thighs.

           “Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” she whimpers as Spencer’s fingers take appraisal of the drenched cloth. “In fact, I think four months of foreplay is sufficient enough. Wouldn’t you say?”

           “Maybe so,” Spencer muses, voice muffled as he sucks at the skin of her neck. “But I’m not willing to chance hurting you our first time together. You’re entirely too precious to me.”

           Spencer captures her lips in a kiss so sweet it has her sighing into his mouth. When he pulls away, he fixes her with a smile.

           “You’re not particularly fond of these panties, are you?”

           Her eyebrows pull together. “No, why?”

           Spencer pulls at the flimsy fabric harshly and it gives way under the force of it. He reaches back to stuff the thong in his back pocket.

           “That’s why.”

           Spencer’s lips come down against hers at the same time his middle and index fingers drag across her slickness. His foresight pays off when his mouth muffles the sound of her cries. As confident he is that they won’t be found, a cry like that would certainly have drawn unwanted attention.

           The swipe of his thumb across her crest paired with the gentle pressure of his fingers dipping into her heat is enough to make her legs buckle. Had it not been for Spencer pressing her against the wall, she surely would have fallen to the ground in a trembling heap.

           “I could get lost in you for hours,” Spencer groans, curling his fingers inside her in such a way that makes her clutch desperately to his shirt.

           “Spencer, oh my God,” she keens. “I need you, please.”

           “You have me, my love,” Spencer whispers the promise against her parted lips. “You’ve had me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

           Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers until the telltale tightening of her heat warns him of her impending climax. He has to bite down on his lower lip to regain his own composure. The feeling of her tight and wet around his fingers is almost too good.

           “Spencer, I’m getting close,” she whimpers.

           Spencer continues until she’s on the cusp of tumbling over the edge, until one more pass of his fingers against her crest would surely seal the deal, and then he’s removing his hand and taking a step back.

           “Spencer, what the fu-,” she pauses when he promptly shoves his pants and underwear just enough to free himself from their painful confines. “Oh.”

           A dazed smile makes its way to her face as Spencer presses himself against her once more. He sweeps her up into a kiss comprised of pure, unadulterated desire, before pulling away and smirking deviously at her.

           “Jump.”

           It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to make sense of the request, but as soon as it does, she complies without question.

           Spencer’s hands grip her thighs firmly and in one swift thrust he sheaths himself into her fully – an indulgence so grand that all others dull in comparison. Now that he’s had the finest, felt it wrapped around him like warm velvet, he can’t imagine a world in which he must live without it.

           “Spencer!”

           Spencer swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound than her crying out his name as their bodies come together for the first time. It’s synonymous with a siren call, he thinks, because in that moment she could lure him to certain death and he knows he would go with a smile.

           His lips seek purchase on the exposed skin of her chest as he buries himself in her paradise again and again. The sharp sting of her heels digging into his back with every thrust brings out a sort of primal urge in him, spurring him to rut up into her like a man possessed.

           “You feel perfect,” Spencer groans out against the flushed skin of her neck. He presses a soft kiss to where her pulse bounds just beneath the skin before pulling away and locking eyes with her. “When I’m old and gray and can remember nothing else, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember how it felt to kiss you for the first time – how it felt to touch you. How it felt to worship you and make love to your body.”

           Spencer’s voices catches, thick and overwhelmed with emotion.

           “I’ll remember how it feels to love you.”

           Her breath catches in her throat and sharp pang of panic burns hot in his chest. Had he misinterpreted her affections? Did she not burn for him in the same way? Perhaps the ambrosia meant nothing. Spencer’s movements falter, and for several torturous seconds he’s nearly paralyzed with fear.

            She silences those fears with a kiss.

           “Oh, Spencer,” she sighs as she presses her forehead against his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever comprehend.”

           Spencer resumes moving in and out of her, but the frenzied feeling from before is replaced with something else now. Something softer, but no less passionate.

           “Yeah?” he inquires, searching her eyes for any trace of insincerity. He finds none, and it’s a relief. Any hint of falseness in her claim would surely lead to a heartbreak he could never recover from.

           “Yes.” The word trails off into a moan. “I love you, Spencer Reid. I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop.”

           Spencer’s heart jolts and he whines pathetically against her mouth. “I’m counting on that.”

           “I’m close, Spencer,” she pants, her breath hitting his face in warm puffs. “Don’t think I can last much longer.”

           “Me, too.” Spencer nudges her nose with his own. “Reach between us and touch yourself, my love. I want us to cum together. Can you do that for me?”

           She nods, and the hand that clung to his right shoulder dips in between them to rub tight circles against her crest. Spencer doubles his efforts when he sees her eyelids flutter closed, and the resulting tightening of her core leaves him panting hard.

           “Spencer, I-” her breath catches in her throat as Spencer delivers a particularly strong thrust. Her head falls against his shoulder, her soft moans of his name like heaven to his ears.

           “Cum with me, baby,” Spencer grunts out desperately. He needs it like he needs air to breath and water to drink. And once he has it, he knows he’ll need it again and again.

           She gives it to him with a muffled cry of his name and he’s instantly swept away, drowning in the blissful way her body sings for him. His body follows her lead, shattering completely under her fingertips.

           While he’s been through similar acts with previous partners, those instances always felt impersonal and clinical. The caresses and whispered words were all a means to an end, an end that usually left him feeling lonelier and emptier than when he started. But right now, as he feels the beat of her heart pressed against his own, he swears he couldn’t feel fuller - full of adoration, full of affection, full of love. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and everything Spencer didn’t know he was looking for.

           A raucous round of applause erupts from the direction of the party, startling the two of them. Spencer feels her laugh against his neck.

           “It’s almost as if they were applauding us for a job well done.”

           Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

           “As they should. That was sensational.”

           Spencer carefully pulls out and lowers her to the floor. He wastes no time in tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a reverent kiss. Spencer hopes his lips convey his gratitude.

           The two of them pull apart and set to making themselves presentable. Their efforts prove to be in vain when Spencer points out a dark purple love bite nestled into the crook of her neck. She counters this by taking note of the smudge of red lipstick on his collar.

           “What an adulterous pair we make, Professor.”

           Spencer rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not your professor anymore.” He bends down and places a kiss to her lips before taking her hand in his.

           “I suppose you’re not,” she muses as they meander down the corridor. “Whatever shall we do now?”

           As the two of them step out of the dark hallway and reenter the party, Spencer smiles to himself. Visions of wedding rings flit through his mind. Spencer supposes he’ll have to take a break from the posh clothing and rare books in favor of saving his money. He’ll buy only the finest ring for his future wife, after all.

           “I have a few ideas.”

-

-

-

-

-

taglist: @90spumkin @moon-light-jukebox​ @whxt-to-write @calm-and-doctor @jessalyn-jpeg @pinkdiamond1016 @itsametaphorbriansblog @eldahae @itsmytimetoodream @kasaikawa @shadyladyperfection

[acidwidow]

BITTERSWEET

a/n - This is my first avengers fic! I’m gonna make it into a mini(?) series, I wrote this in my notes at 3am lool, I hope you guys like it

Warnings - Angst, short haired bucky (yes it’s a warning bc that man is too fine)

Summary - After a bad breakup you’re forced to move in with your brother Steve at the avengers compound, will old relationships rekindle the fire in you that was once lost?

You cannot be happening. You had just woken up way too hungover and not at all prepared for the confrontation waiting for you downstairs. Drinking for 4 days in a row does a number on you and your mom was sick of watching you drown your sorrows and has finally found a way to ‘help you’.

“You can’t just ship me away because you don’t wanna deal with me anymore!”

“Y/N I cannot keep watching you destroy your life, you’re going to stay with your brother, it’ll be good for you. I know how you feel. It’s final.”

The salty taste of your tears on your lips make you somehow feel more nauseous than you already do. The partying, drinking, drugs, all of it is a way to cope with the man that broke your stupid heart in two.

He knew how much you loved him, he finally admitted he was with you purely because your brother was Captain America. Your high school sweetheart was a lie, are you meant to be frolicking through daisies?

“You have no idea how I feel right now, NO GOD DAMN IDEA! I’m not going, I’m an adult, and I’m not leaving.”

She sighs, exasperatedly running her hands across her face. You know this is coming from a place of love and worry on her behalf but right now all you feel is betrayal and anger running through your veins like fire.

A small brown envelope addressed to you is slid across the table, looking down you snatch it, turning away to storm out towards your car.

Head against the steering wheel, you wonder how you got to this point in your life exactly. How does one man manage to pull the wool over your eyes the way Ryan did, usually you can read people like a book.

“Stupid! Stupid idiot!” You scream and bang your fists against the wheel until your hands go numb. A feeling you’re well accustomed to these days.

You rip open the envelope, terrified for what could be awaiting you inside.

Y/N L/N

Flight NY-2287

From Boston Logan International Airport

To Manhattan Regional Airport

One way ticket

A dry chuckle left your lips, the salt hitting your tongue from the tears shed in the screaming match that had just occurred in your dining room. One way ticket?

“I can’t believe she’s getting rid of me.”

—————————————

Packing your bags proves to be slow and torturous, your mom standing in the door way, throwing suggestions towards you as you chuck a handful of underwear into the open luggage.

“You know, this is for your own good, you’ll be able to see Steve and James again. I know you miss them too, you need this.”

“It seems like you know what I need so there’s no point giving my opinion on this anymore, you’ve already made your decision mom.”

Out of the corner of her eye you see her hang her head. Shame maybe? No, she made her bed and she has to lie in it now. Maybe once you’re gone she’ll realise she made a mistake. Being around Steve will be just another reminder of your heart ache.

You close your eyes as the sound of her footsteps dissipate down the stairs.

You know you can’t blame him, or mom, but that doesn’t stop the rage surging through your body every time something reminds you of what’s happened.

The Captain America T-shirt staring at you as it sits on your bedroom floor. You bought it the day Steve’s merch came out officially. You bask in the memory of how proud you are of him for a moment before the memories of the last two months come rushing back to you and leave a fiery pit in the bottom of your stomach.

Trudging down the stairs, suitcase in one hand, your phone in the other and a bag clinging to your left shoulder that feels like a ton of bricks.

Your mom eyes you from the kitchen table. The same place you seem to be screaming at each other every morning. Closing her book she stands up and walks towards you, a small smile on her face before she opens her arms, signalling you to hug her.

You swallow your pride and wrap your arms around her, tears welling in your eyes for the second time this morning.

“I’m gonna miss you, try not to sass your brother too hard and give him a massive hug from me. I love you Y/N/N.” she mumbles into your hair. Pulling back and placing her hand softly onto your cheek, wiping a couple stray tears that managed to escape your eyes .

You nod curtly, adjusting your backpack and walking through the door towards your car. You feel her eyes lingering on you as you chuck your belongings into the trunk. The thoughts of ‘accidentally’ missing your plans are cut off by your phone buzzing in your back pocket.

Dumbass: see you soon dude

Dumbass: You’ll see us when you get off the plane, hope you appreciate the sign. It was a group effort

You roll your eyes at the message, imagining the Avengers with glitter and sharpies, making a cardboard sign to welcome you back into New York.

You: Better be great considering i’m being forced against my will to come

————————————

“Y/N Welcome back!” The sign reads, accompanied by swirls, bright colours and what seems like steve’s shield, alas badly drawn. Steve and Bucky stand with the sign above their heads, grinning from ear to ear when they spot you in the crowd of people clambering to get to their respective families.

Bucky takes a couple steps forward and flings his arms around you, picking you up in a bear hug for what seems to feel like a life time.

“Let me down you oath!!” You squeal, wiggling around in his super human grip until he finally lowers you to the ground.

“Good to see you too kid.”

You groan at the nickname. “Ugh don’t call me that, I’m an adult now Buck.”

He lets out a chuckle as Steve walks towards you and claps you on the back, the famous Steve Rogers smile still on his face as he takes your bags.

“I missed you Y/N/N”

“Oh and by the way, you’ll always be our little sister.”

The word ‘Our’ leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. Your childhood crush on Bucky never left, only simmered once he moved away, faded even more so into the background when you were infatuated with Ryan.

This is going to be a long trip.

[spectaclespencer]

P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

Please tell me your thoughts on this chapter here! You can also send me an ask to be added to/removed from the taglist.

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[sour--disposition]

Behind His Back

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harry lewis x fem!reader

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please see my pinned post for masterlists/request info :)

requested: Hello, could you do something where reader is best mates with cal and he brings her to shoots and in vids and such and her and Harry are kinda together but no one knows then someone accidentally outs them thanks !! 🙌🏻

Yours and Cal’s laughter reached the spot that the other guys had picked for filming long before the two of you did, poking and chasing each other as you barrelled through the doors. Cal was joining in on some game that they were filming for moresidemen and he’d dragged you along so you could sit off camera and poke fun at all eight of them.

As soon as you’d fallen into the venue, a bright smile had stretched across Harry’s face. Seeing you as happy and full of life as you were made him impossibly happy, as soppy as it sounded. All he wanted was to wander over and pull you into his arms, maybe surprise you so you let out that funny squeal you did whenever she shocked you.

But he couldn’t.

Although he’d never said it, it was sort of an unwritten rule of Cal’s that you were off limits for any of his friends. Maybe that made it all the more exciting, sneaking around behind your best friend’s back. You knew that it wouldn’t end well, it would either end in heartbreak between you and Harry or anger from Cal. Neither was an outcome you wanted, but one of them was bound to be inevitable.

Ethan had noticed Harry staring at you and was prepared to embarrass his best friend, not knowing that he was one of the only people that knew the truth about yours and Harry’s relationship. “Gonna go give your girlfriend a smooch, Bog?”, Ethan asked, grin as bright as ever as he shoved Harry playfully in your direction.

You and Harry both froze, eyes wide in surprise and fear. The humour drained out of Ethan’s face as he watched yours and Harry’s reactions and a tense atmosphere immediately fell over the group. Even the camera crew looked awkward.

You could see Harry desperately trying to conjure up some sort of excuse for what Ethan had just said. Ethan looked like he would do just about anything to retract his words. But what was said was said and you just had to deal with the consequences.

“What the fuck is he on about?”, Cal asked, voice harsh and angry. His eyes were fixed on Harry, practically pinning him to the spot. “Harry. What the fuck is Ethan on about?”.

“Look, mate-”, Harry started, words getting caught in his throat.

“How could you?”, Freezy spat, voice like venom. He turned to you, looking at you like you’d just taken a knife to his back. “And you?”.

“Don’t be mad at her, Cal”, Harry pleaded, voice desperate.

“I’ll be mad at whoever the fuck I wanna be mad at!”, Cal shouted, making Harry jump and sending a wave of anger coursing through your veins.

“You know what, no”, you started, leaving Cal’s side of the room and walking to stand in between the two of them. “You have no right to be mad. We’re adults. We don’t answer to you. I don’t answer to you”, you stressed.

You could tell that the others in the room had no idea what to do. Guilt was written all over Ethan’s face and varying levels of worry and awkwardness seemed to be spread throughout the rest of the guys. Everyone was following the discussion like a ball in a tennis match.

“I live with him and you’re my best friend, I’m kind of involved in this!”, Cal exclaimed. You mumbled something under your breath that neither Cal or Harry heard, but it only seemed to antagonise Cal more. “What?”, he demanded.

“I’m just saying, last time I checked, it’s not you sneaking me into your apartment, but whatever”, you commented casually.

“Y/N”, Harry warned from behind you, taking a few steps closer to you.

“I’m not going to pick between my best friend and my boyfriend!”, you cemented. “If you’re going to make me pick, you’re making the decision for me”, you told Cal, a finger pointed towards him. “And it won’t go in your favour”, you cautioned.

“You’d pick Harry over me?”, Cal asked, looking genuinely offended. “I’ve known you since we were 12”, he reminded you.

“I love him”, you said, voice suddenly small and shy. “And if you don’t want any part of that, then I don’t know what to tell you”, you shrugged before turning your back and walking out of the venue.

Harry stood stock still. Everything in his body was telling him to chase after you, tell you that he felt the same way, but he couldn’t get his body to move. The shock of Cal finding out and then you telling everyone that you loved him, it left him paralysed.

“Is anyone gonna go after her?”, Vik asked, eyes tearing between Harry and Cal.

“I’ll go”, Harry and Freezy said at the same time.

“She won’t wanna see you right now, mate… In the nicest way possible”, Harry told his friend, leaving him no time to answer before following you out of the venue and finding you a few feet away, sat on a bench.

“Hey”, Harry said, catching your attention. He sat down next to you, forearms resting on his thighs as he leaned forwards. “That could’ve gone better”, he whispered, pulling a sardonic laugh from you.

“You think”, you snorted.

“I love you, too”, Harry blurted, barely giving you time to finish your sentence.

Before you had a chance to say or do anything in response, Cal was stalking away from the venue doors and towards the two of you. “Cal-”, you started.

“Look”, he sighed. “I reacted badly. I shouldn’t have gotten angry, alright”, he huffed. “I was just caught off guard, I had no idea”, he defended.

“That was sort of the point”, you chuckled. “Because we were worried about what you’d say”, you explained. “Or that you’d react like this”.

Harry sat still beside you, always unsure of what to do or say when it came to disagreements between you and Cal, and it was only made worse by the fact that he was in the middle of the situation. He let his hand leave his lap and join yours, squeezing around your fingers supportively.

“Nothing I say is gonna make this go away?”, Cal asked, face pulled with pain.

“No”, you said simply, a sense of finality settling in your voice. “If you love me enough to be worried about Harry hurting me, then you love me enough to let me love Harry”, you told him gently. “And, in the nicest way possible, it really has nothing to do with you”.

Cal sat down next to you, a heavy sigh leaving his chest as he sunk into the bench. “I feel like I should’ve seen this coming”, he complained.

“To be honest, mate, you really are clueless”, Harry chuckled from beside you.

“How long have you been together?”, Cal asked you, looking up at you from his dejected slump.

“Officially, almost three months”, you told Cal.

“Unofficially?”, he asked warily.

“Nearly six”, you admitted.

“How did I not realise?”, Cal groaned, dropping his head against the backrest of the bench. “I can’t believe I missed it”.

“We were really good at hiding it”, Harry shrugged. “It was like mission impossible to be honest, you made everything quite inconvenient”, he jibed, earning him a swat over the head from Cal.

“At least I never heard you shagging”, Cal sighed. His eyes went wide as a silence fell over you and Harry, a smirk threatening to peak through onto your lips. “Are you fucking kidding me!?”, he exclaimed, almost jumping up out of his seat.

“Yeah, none of those one night stands were one night stands”, Harry mumbled as he itched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry, and all”. You could see Cal cringing, knowing that he’d heard his two best friends have sex with each other couldn’t have been a fun thought to have running through his mind.

“If you excuse me, I am off to pour acid into my ears”.

[kingexpl0sionmurder]

Mutual Misunderstandings - Kirishima Eijirou - Smut

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder​​ Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou / F!Reader Rating: 18+ (Contains smut) Words: 5,866 Warnings: Quirkless AU, Aged up characters (they adulty adults!), unprotected vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), very very light choking, reader has a bit of a size kink. AN: Another entry for the BNHAREM collab! This time we’re writing roommates, and I somehow managed to snag Kirishima! I’m super excited for all of the fics coming this time around, so make sure you click on the link below and read some of the other submissions!

This is my first time writing Kirishima and I’m super nervous about it. I’ve always really loved him because he’s just the best boy and he’s so brave and strong and gentle and I just want to cuddle him into oblivion. I also firmly believe he’s going to be a huge tank of a man when he gets older and I’m going with that vision of him here.

Collab Masterlist is HERE My Masterlist is HERE Buy me a KoFi if you’re feeling froggy HERE

------

You stood in your living room, your jaw hanging open, staring at him in shock. Kirishima had a similar look on his face, the two of you pointing at each other like that Spider-Man meme. 

“You mean to tell me you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?” You finally choked out, blinking owlishly at your best friend and roommate. “I thought you liked Mina!”

Kirishima sputtered, shaking his head. “No way! She’s my friend, we’ve known each other since middle school, you know that.” He moved to cross his arms across his broad chest. “And anyway, there’s no way you like me, you have a crush on Bakugou!”

There was no way this was happening right now. “No! I don’t like Bakugou like that! He’s a pain in my fucking ass, and I think about murdering him on a daily basis.” Facepalming, you groaned. “Are we really this stupid?”

How did you end up here?

It started back in your first year of college. 

The parties and the seemingly endless studying had become a comfortable routine for you. So what if you were sleep-deprived and living on cup noodles? You were getting your higher education and ready to tackle the real world head-on in just a few short years.

A pipe dream, but still.

You had your best friend Shinsou by your side and a customer loyalty card at the campus coffee shop and everything was right with the world. You’d even managed to get paired up with Hitoshi’s (sort of) boyfriend for an English project, which was a better outcome than what you could have hoped for, not having to work with some rando on something that would be a large chunk of your grade.

Kaminari had suggested that you work on it at his place with the promise of Doritos, and you agreed. Who were you to turn down snacks? Poor college students needed those cheese dusted carbs to survive. 

The Upsilon Alpha fraternity was one of the best and most popular on campus, and at first, you found it almost laughable that Kaminari was a member. At first glance, he seemed like a total space cadet stoner who didn’t belong in college, much less as a member of such an esteemed frat. However, after getting to know him, you knew that he was most definitely all of those things, but he was also insanely smart when it counted and kept above average grades in his classes (except for math, but with him being a bisexual disaster human, it came with the territory).

You had made some decent progress on your project after about an hour. The outline was done, and you were discussing how you would be presenting it since you had a choice between a written essay or a PowerPoint presentation. 

Without warning, the kitchen door flew open, the doorknob slamming into the wall behind it.

“Well, the quiet was nice while it lasted, huh?” Kaminari blinked, completely unfazed by the commotion, leaning back in his chair and eating a chip.

Your gaze flitted over to the man who was glaring at the two of you from the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets. Blonde hair that looked so much like an explosion was sticking up in every direction on his head, and you felt his red eyes trained on you as he took in the room. “What are you doing, Dunceface?”

Kaminari didn’t answer right away, raising his eyebrow and grinning at the new arrival. “Hey, Kacchan.”

If the bulging vein in the man’s forehead was any indication, Kaminari had said the wrong thing. He opened his mouth, and you assumed it was to threaten your project partner, but he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder from behind.

“Bakubro, be nice. Kami has company.” 

The man that appeared beyond the angry pomeranian took your breath away. He was...big. Like, his shoulders were so wide you wondered how he was going to fit through the doorway. And he was tall, with spiked red hair making him look even taller, big red eyes and sharp teeth, and the most beautiful smile you’d ever laid eyes on.

Blonde and grumpy grumbled, moving aside to let giant and red into the room, who then turned that megawatt million-dollar smile on you, and you tried your best not to stare at his biceps or the way his shirt clung to his chest.

Was it hot in here all of a sudden?

“Hi! I’m Kirishima, and this ray of sunshine is Bakugou, we’re some of Kaminari’s frat brothers!” He held out his hand for you to shake, and you smiled up at him, taking his giant hand in yours. The size of his fingers sent your brain reeling, and you knew you needed to get yourself under control before you started moaning out loud in front of him. 

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you! Kami and I are just working on an English project.” You explained, grinning back up at him, trying to keep the lust off of your face. You didn’t want to look like some kind of freak.

He took his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, you must be Shinsou’s friend! Kami told us you’d be coming over, I forgot about that.” He turned, watching as Bakugou slunk over to the fridge and opened the door. “Don’t let us bother you, we’re just grabbing some water before we head to the gym.”

Kaminari snorted. “Dude, if you get any beefier we’re going to need to remodel the doors so you can fit through them.”

Kirishima turned as red as his hair, glancing at you, before he grinned at his friend. “If I stop, no one will be able to bench press you and Sero at the same time at the next party.”

“Bro, that is my favorite party trick of yours.” He sat up straighter, looking forlorn at the thought of it not happening anymore. “Okay, fine, go to the gym.”

Bakugou grumbled from behind him something that sounded like “I could bench press four of you if I wanted to.”

“Of course you could, buddy.” Kirishima slung his arm over Bakugou’s shoulder. “Okay, we’re out of here. It was nice to meet you, Y/N. Good luck with your project!”

Bakugou grunted and shoved a water bottle at Kirishima, shrugging out from under his arm and leaving the room. Kirishima smiled at you when you said goodbye, hurrying after his sour-faced friend and leaving you and Kaminari to your work.

“Your housemates are...interesting.” You managed, still trying to wrap your head around the red-haired man.

Kaminari snorted. “Kirishima is the walking definition of sunshine, and Bakugou is...well, he takes some getting used to. But he’s not a bad guy.”

You just hummed, chewing on your pen absently. “Can he actually bench press you?”

“Fuck yeah. He does it one-handed. You should come to our next party and see for yourself.”

Keeping your face as neutral as possible, you nodded. “Maybe I can convince Shinsou to come with me.” Wiggling your eyebrows at Kaminari when he blushed, you turned back to the notebook that lay open in front of you. “Come on, let’s figure this out so we can talk more about your intentions with my best friend.”

--

You did show up to the next UA frat party, Shinsou in tow. Your purple-haired bestie was grumbling the whole way, his hands shoved in his pockets. It didn’t stop him from making fun of how short your skirt was and teasing you about how you’d done nothing but talk about Kirishima since the day you’d met him.

“He’s like Clifford the Big Red Dog, Y/N. Clumsy and adorable.”

“He’s definitely big. I’d like to climb him like a tree.” You linked your arm with his, walking up to the giant house, the windows already rattling with the bass pumping through the speakers inside.

“You’re disgusting. I am appalled and also proud to call you my best friend.” Sarcastic as usual, he let you drag him along without a fuss.

“That sounds about right.”

The party was in full swing, half the campus milling around inside the house with red plastic cups in hand. You found Kaminari almost immediately, shoving Shinsou towards him and making your way to the kitchen to find yourself a drink. 

“Y/N!” Kirishima was in front of you almost immediately, giant cat eyes and his shark tooth smile lighting up the room. “Kami mentioned you might show up!”

Blushing, you nodded, suddenly losing the ability to form words. He was wearing a tank top, his arm muscles on display, and you took a moment to thank the Lord for the blessing before you. 

“You want a drink?” 

You realized you were staring, so you cleared your throat and smiled at him. “Yes, please.”

His large hand wrapped around your elbow gently as he tugged you through the crowd in the kitchen and out towards the back porch. You tried not to think about how your skin was burning under his touch. You needed to get a grip.

He got to work on the keg, pumping the handle on the top and grabbing you a cup, tilting it a bit as he filled it with beer. 

“Hey, shitty hair! Beer pong!” You turned to see Bakugou standing on the other side of the large wooden deck, his arm resting on the shoulder of a tall and lanky brown-haired boy. “Sero here wants to break up the dream team! Find a partner!”

Kirishima chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, hang on!” He turned to you, handing you your drink. “So, you play beer pong?”

Bringing the cup to your lips, you tilted your head back and chugged your beer, wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand when you’d finished. Kirishima was staring at you with wide eyes, looking surprised but pleased. “Yeah. I’m better when I’m drunk, though.”

He held out his hand for the empty cup, moving to fill it up again, his grin never faltering. “Let’s go kick their asses.”

--

That was the beginning of your friendship with Kirishima. What had started as a crush on the red-haired man had turned into a companionship that you couldn’t ever see yourself without. That was why you never said a word about how you really felt.

As cliché as it was, you didn’t know how you’d survived without the guy. He was nothing short of amazing. He was a great listener, and he gave good advice. He was always there when you needed him, bringing you soup when you were sick, going on late-night snack runs when you were up all night studying for exams, showing up with chocolate and tampons when it was your time of the month.

Shinsou had always done those things for you, but he was spending a lot of time with his boyfriend now. You weren’t upset about it though, you thought they were the cutest and you didn’t want to third wheel their time together, so you hung out with Kirishima and Bakugou a lot more often. 

As Kaminari had told you on that first day, Bakugou truly wasn’t a bad guy. His attitude got on your nerves though, and you envisioned punching him in the face at least four times a day, but you didn’t dislike him. He and Kirishima were best friends, so he was a part of the package, and you learned to deal with him.

So it was a no-brainer when Kirishima and Bakugou approached you and asked if you wanted to get an apartment with them once you’d graduated. With the three of you living together, you were able to afford a nicer apartment than you’d ever dreamed of having that was in a central location and only a few train stops away from where your respective jobs were located.

Things were going well, and you’d done a decent job of keeping your true feelings for Kirishima to yourself. It helped that he’d never dated anyone, and you were free to lust after him quietly, under the impression that no one had caught on to how you really felt, perfectly content to continue as you had been since the day you’d met him. 

The only wrench in your plans of quiet pining was Mina Ashido.

Mina was awesome, and you loved her to pieces. She was one of the only other females in your friend group and had been around since you’d gotten closer to the boys in the frat that first year of college. She was the perfect person to go to when you needed some self-care nights, always down to put on a face mask and paint your nails, and she was the best shopping partner.

However, you were thoroughly convinced that Kirishima liked her. 

You’d noticed, as far back as your freshman year, how they always gravitated towards each other in social settings. Mina was always one of the last ones to leave when you went out back then, always the one Kirishima threw his arm around when you walked back to campus from the bar.

It was part of the reason you’d become close with Bakugou in the first place. Whenever Kiri was with Mina, you always sidled up to the explosive blonde, teasing him to distract yourself from the way your heart was squeezing in your chest. 

Neither of them had ever mentioned having more than just a platonic, friendly relationship with each other, but you couldn’t shake the feeling you got whenever you saw them together.

It’s called jealousy, you idiot.

You had nothing to be jealous about though. Kirishima was your friend, and that’s all he would ever be.

--

Things had been going well, at least that’s what you’d thought. And then this morning had happened.

It was Saturday, which was your normal grocery shopping day. You and Bakugou had taken on the burden of shopping for groceries for the apartment. You’d allowed Kirishima to go once and he came home with more junk food than should be allowed in one cart, and half of the things on the list you’d given him missing, and more protein powder than should be legally allowed.

Bakugou had worked out a system and your grocery shopping trips were like a well-oiled machine that took no longer than an hour out of your day, and you were grateful for your grumpy friend and his penchant for being overly organized.

You finished getting dressed, ready to get this over with so you could use the rest of the day to play video games and be generally lazy. Walking into the living room, you stopped in your tracks to see your roommates glaring at each other, which was normal for one of them, and uncharacteristic for the other.

“Everything okay?” Your eyes darted between the two men, taking in Kirishima’s stiff posture and clenched jaw. 

“Fine. I’m going shopping alone today.” Bakugou grunted, turning away from his best friend.

Puzzled, you frowned. “What? Why?”

Bakugou stopped in the doorway, turning to face the both of you, looking thoroughly fed up. He lifted his hand and pointed. “The two of you are making me want to commit myself. I’ve been dealing with this shit for years, and it ends today. You’re in love with each other. Figure your shit out and fuck already. I’ll be out for the rest of the day.”

You gaped after him as he turned again, giving you both the middle finger over his shoulder as he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

And that brings us up to speed.

“Are we really this stupid?” You asked, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back.

Kirishima sighed. “This doesn’t make any sense. Since when?”

Snorting, you flopped down on the couch, rubbing at your face tiredly. “Truthfully? Since the moment we met.” You guessed the cat was out of the bag, so you might as well tell him everything. “In the kitchen at the frat house.”

“When you came over to work on that project with Denki?” His eyebrows furrowed, an adorably confused look on his face. “Are you telling me I’ve been pushing you at Bakugou for nearly 5 years for no reason?”

“Yeah, you could stop doing that at any time and I would appreciate it. Unless you want me to strangle him to death.”

Kirishima flopped down on the other end of the couch, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’ve liked you just as long, you know? I saw you sitting in our kitchen and I thought I was going to throw up.”

“If that was supposed to make me feel good about myself then you’ve failed miserably.”

“No! I just mean, the butterflies-” He groaned. “Shut up and let me get this out okay?” 

Smirking at him, you turned your body, leaning against the back of the couch. “Okay, sorry, keep going.”

Taking a deep breath, he continued, red eyes trained on your face. “Do you remember the frat party?”

“Which one?”

“That first one, when you chugged that beer in front of me and then helped me kick Bakugou’s ass at beer pong?” He waited for you to nod before he spoke again. “I’d never felt so enamored with anyone in my entire life.” Kirishima let his gaze fall to his hands. “You were so awesome and funny and beautiful and you kept up with my friends and their dumbass antics like a pro and I just...I couldn’t believe you were real. I just kept telling myself that you would never be into someone like me, so I decided that if we could be friends for life then that would be enough.”

“Ei…” You trailed off, frowning. You’d always known he tended to get down on himself. You and Bakugou had done your best to convince him he was worth much more than he let himself believe, but sometimes he needed a reminder.

“I know, I know. I don’t feel that way anymore, but at the time I did.” His hair was down, tied back in a loose bun, bits of his fringe falling in his eyes. He pushed a piece of it behind his ear and kept going. “So I tried to keep my distance, kept on hanging around with Mina, tried not to think about how much I wanted to be with you. She kept telling me I needed to tell you, kept rubbing it in that I wasn’t being manly about it. But you were hanging out with Bakugou so much I just figured you liked him and I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall forward. “I was hanging out with Bakugou because I couldn’t stand seeing you with Mina so much. I was jealous.” Realization hit, and your eyes snapped open. “Mina knew?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one I told.”

“All those times we hung out and she never said a word.” Chuckling, you shook your head. “I told Shinsou. It’s like the only secret he’s ever kept from Kaminari. I threatened to mutilate him beyond all recognition if he mentioned a word to anyone.” You grinned sheepishly at him.

Kirishima huffed a laugh. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Bakugou. Your threats are just as creative as his.”

“Speaking of, I guess he figured it out on his own then.”

Humming, he shrugged. “He was always the smartest one out of all of us.” He looked over at you again. “So, now it’s your turn.”

Raising an eyebrow, you blinked at him. “For what? A heartfelt confession?” 

“It’s only fair. I told you how I felt. What did you think when you first met me?”

You felt your ears get hot. “Do you want the truth? Because it’s kind of embarrassing.”

Shifting himself on the couch, he leaned against the arm, tanned forearms resting on his knees. “Oh, this should be good.” He teased, grinning.

“Shut up.” You sighed, preparing yourself for his reaction. “When you walked into the kitchen that day, my first thoughts were...uh...pretty dirty. Like X rated.”

Eyes wide, he stared at you. “Really? How dirty are we talking here?”

You covered your face with your hands, mumbling your answer behind them.

“Sorry, what was that?” He was fucking with you again, you could hear the smirk in his voice, and you were tempted to smack him with a throw pillow.

Taking a deep breath, you moved your hands from your face, looking him right in the eye. “I said, I wanted you to step on me.”

Sputtering, he blinked a few times. “What?”

“I mean, you were this...tank, Eijirou. Like this giant man with gorgeous eyes and a killer smile, with the personality of fucking sunshine and you had these big hands and I wanted you to wrap them around my throat and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, seriously?” His cheeks were as red as his hair, his hands flailing as he stopped your tirade. “You wanted me to…?

Nodding solemnly, you looked him dead in the eyes. “Yes, and I’ve thought about that like every day since then.” 

“I am learning things about you today that I never even imagined.” Blowing a breath out he slumped back, looking shook.

You hurried on, wanting him to know it was more than that. “I mean, after that I got to know you and I love everything about you, Ei. I just, you’re such a good person, better than I could ever be. You care about everyone and you’re always there for me, for all of us, whenever we need you. You’re strong and funny and brave. I always know that I can rely on you.” Sniffling, you couldn’t help the emotions bubbling to the surface. 

“But you also want me to step on you.” He was grinning, his eyes a little wet, too.

Wiping at your eyes with your fingers, you chuckled. “Yes, exactly.”

Sighing, he leaned forward, grabbing your arm and tugging. “Come here.”

Crawling across the couch, you laid down between his parted legs, your head resting on his chest. He wrapped his giant arms around you and kissed the top of your head. 

“Now what?” You asked, realizing you were afraid of the answer. What happened now?

He hummed, and you heard the sound vibrate through his chest. “I was going to suggest a nap, but now I keep thinking about what you said…”

You lifted up to ask what he meant, shifting your body and freezing when you felt something hard brush against your thigh. Eyes meeting his, you bit your lip at the look on his face, feeling a blush creep over your face and down your neck. “Yeah?”

“I figured we can do things out of order a little bit, right? I’m going to take you on a real date and court you properly, like a gentleman and all that, but right now all I can think about is, well…” He sat up, grabbing you around the waist and lifting you like it was nothing, until you were sitting properly on his lap, straddling his hips. When he was satisfied, his hand moved to your throat, putting the smallest amount of pressure on the sides of your neck with his calloused fingertips.

The moan that tore from your throat was low and quiet, but he heard it, muttering a curse under his breath as you became nearly boneless in his lap. “Eijriou.” You managed, licking your lips and gazing at him through half-closed eyes, your blood pounding in your ears.

It was ridiculous how turned on you were in that moment, and he’d barely done a thing. You felt his cock twitch beneath you, and you couldn’t help but grind down on him, the small amount of friction making you shiver.

Suddenly he was guiding you towards him, your noses bumping and breath mingling as he held you in place, his lips just out of your reach. “You don’t know how much I’ve always wanted you, Y/N.” 

Letting your eyes slide closed, you ran your hands up his muscled arms and rested them on his shoulders to keep yourself upright. You were tired of waiting, of keeping yourself from what you wanted. “Show me.”

If you were to die right here on this couch it would have all been worth it. The feeling of his lips on yours, the way he ran his thumb lightly over your throat as he kissed you, had your eyes rolling back in their sockets. You couldn’t get enough of the taste of him, of the feeling of his hard body beneath your fingertips. He was careful with his sharp teeth, tugging at your bottom lip lightly, your tongues sliding together as he rolled his hips against yours.

You pulled back for air finally, taking in his kiss bruised lips and dilated pupils. Reaching down, you tore your shirt over your head, tossing it across the room, never breaking eye contact. You watched his gaze fall to your heaving chest as he worried at his bottom lip for a moment, obviously lost in thought. 

Before you could ask him what he was thinking about, he’d shifted again so that his feet were on the floor. Kirishima lifted you off his lap and put you on your feet in front of him, hands moving to your waist, fingers slipping into the elastic of the leggings you were wearing. He pressed his face to your bare stomach, kissing your skin as he worked your pants down your thighs, slipping them past your knees. You played with his hair, moaning softly as he kissed along your hip.

When he sat back you stepped out of your leggings, feeling exposed. You forgot how to be awkward when he was looking at you like that, hungry and wanting. Stepping forward, you pouted. “Why am I the only one half-naked?”

Chuckling, he pulled his shirt off, and you sucked in a breath, trying to wrap your head around the fact that this man, with a chiseled and perfect body like a Greek god, wanted you.

You didn’t even have time to admire him, because he was moving again, pulling you closer by your thighs, sharp teeth hooking into the front of your panties and dragging them down. Tugging the tie out of his hair, you slid it on your wrist, letting your fingers card through his red locks. He let his hands do the rest of the work until the offending garment was tangled around your ankles. 

Pushing him away gently, you watched him settle back on the couch, red eyes gazing at you as you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor, finally fully exposed to him. Kirishima sucked in a breath, blinking a few times in disbelief. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

You kicked your panties to the side, moving to kneel in front of him, reaching up to grasp the top of his grey sweats, mouth-watering when you started to tug them down. Kirishima was huge everywhere else, so the size of his cock was of no surprise to you. He was massive, long, and girthy, and you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you, stuffing you full.

Rubbing your thighs together for some relief, you left his sweats around his ankles, leaning forward and grasping his cock in your hand. It was almost comical how small your hands looked compared to it. Your eyes locked with his as you licked a long stripe up the shaft, tracing along the prominent vein on the underside, and lapping at the precum dripping from the head. 

Kirishima’s head fell back to rest on the cushion behind him, his fingers tangling in your hair as you took him into your mouth. Your jaw ached almost immediately as you did your best to swallow all of him down, willing your throat to relax. You’d spent so long thinking about how he would taste and sound as you sucked his soul out through his dick, you were going to make the most out of this moment. 

His breathy pants filled the room, along with the obscene slurping sounds of your mouth around his cock. Gripping your hair and tugging lightly, you could tell he was holding back, his thighs shaking with the effort to keep from fucking up into your face. You pulled off, opening your mouth to let him know he could wreck you however he wanted, but he had other plans.

“Come up here, baby.”

The pet name sent shivers through you as you stood up, straddling his lap, his cock pressed up against his stomach. His thumb brushed over your lips, wiping away the spit and pre that spilled down your chin. Cradling your face in his large palm, he pulled you forward and kissed you deeply, his free hand sliding between your bodies. Thick fingers parted your folds, and you lifted up on your knees to give him better access. You moaned into his mouth as he brushed over your clit, gathering the dripping wetness of your cunt along his digits and sliding one finger inside your hole.

You clenched around him, breaking the kiss and keening loudly, your hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. His finger pumped in and out, curling slightly and pressing against your inner walls, stretching you. Gripping your hip with his other hand, he kissed his way down your jaw to your neck and chest, tongue flicking out over your nipple, hot breath ghosting over your skin with a chuckle when you grabbed his head and pulled him towards you.  

One finger turned to two and then three as you rocked and mewled in pleasure, his thumb finding your clit again and pressing against the bundle of nerves, whispered praises reaching your ears as he sucked and bit at your breasts. You were on the edge, wanting to fall over and drown in him, needing to cum all over his fingers and then again on his cock, wanting nothing more than to feel this way forever. 

“Ei I’m gonna…” You panted, unable to form the words.

Grunting, he moved his fingers faster, pressing his thumb in a little harder, his words of praise streaming steadily, telling you how good you were, how pretty you looked. Eyes rolling back, your body tensed, a moan in the sound of his name leaving your lips as you shook, cumming harder than you ever had in your life. 

You were still clenching when he pulled his fingers out of you, his hand slick with release as he tugged on his cock and lined it up with your entrance, your body mourning the loss for mere seconds before he was filling you again. The slick glide of your arousal had you taking nearly all of him, the two of you groaning in tandem at the feeling. Gripping his shoulders, you lifted slightly, slamming your hips back down and taking him to the hilt. The stretch was just on the edge of painful, but his thick digits had stretched you just enough that the pleasure superseded any discomfort.

Still trying to gather yourself after your orgasm, you took a moment to breathe, studying his face, your gaze tracing over the scar on his eyelid, and his dark lashes fanning over his cheeks. An hour ago you never could have imagined you’d be here, panting shakily, drenched in sweat and skin to skin with your best friend and roommate. 

Clenching around him, you held his shoulders, rocking forward and lifting yourself slightly. Kirishima gripped your hips, fucking up into you in a steady rhythm, his lips finding yours once again to swallow the panting moans leaving you. You bounced on his cock, relishing the feeling as he kissed down your neck, his fingertips digging into your flesh, sure to leave bruises for you to admire the next day.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but it didn’t even matter. Just being this close to him, feeling him filling you so completely after wanting him for so long, it could have been minutes and you’d be happy. Knowing he felt for you as strongly as you felt for him was enough. 

His fingers trailed along your front and dipped in between your bodies to rub your clit again, and you felt the pleasure race down your spine, coil tightening again and ready to break. “Oh fuck, Eijirou!”

Growling, he grunted your name as his hips snapped up to meet yours, chasing his release. “I love you, Y/N.”

His words tipped you over again, your breath catching as you came, the wet sounds of his cock plunging into you increasing as you gushed around him. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, completely spent. You held onto him as he slammed into you a few more times, rhythm faltering and hips stuttering until he was filling you up with a loud groan.

Collapsing back onto the couch, he held you to his chest, the two of you gasping for air. It was quiet for a few minutes as he rubbed his palm along your back comfortingly. You felt relaxed and sated, a pleased smile making its way to your face when you thought about what he’d said.

“Hey, Ei?” You pulled back slightly to look at him, giggling when he peeked one eye open to gaze at you.

“You okay?”

“Mm. I just wanted to tell you that I love you, too.”

He looked sheepish, opening both eyes and biting his lip. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that. I wanted it to be romantic.”

“That was plenty romantic, Eijirou.” Rolling your eyes fondly, you shifted in his lap. “I’m just happy to hear you say it.”

“Man, we did this all wrong. I should have at least taken you to dinner first. This is so unmanly of me, I just couldn’t help it.” He frowned. “I’m sorry-”

“You’re too good sometimes, Ei. I’m not complaining, am I?” You raised an eyebrow. “We should go get cleaned up before Bakugou comes home and finds out we fucked on the couch.”

“Please don’t talk about Bakugou while you’re sitting on my dick.” He made a face that caused you to bust into gasping laughter. 

“Oh my god, I can’t.” You wheezed. “You’re ridiculous.” You moved to get up and he stopped you.

With a serious look on his face, he pushed your hair away from your face, his hand lingering near your ear. “I do love you though, Y/N. And I’m glad we finally got here. I didn’t think we ever would.”

Expression softening, you leaned into his palm, smiling at him. “Me too.”

Maybe if you had just told him how you felt all those years ago, you would have been able to have this sooner. But you promised yourself that you wouldn’t dwell on the past, deciding to focus on the future, because you knew it would be filled with more moments with him just like this.

[rookthorne]

That’s me when I read those warnings

P.S. IS HANNA THE REASON THE TRACKSUITS ARE AFTER HER?!?! IT JUST CLICKED

Your fear was securely locked away, and as you opened the car door, Ozenik shoved a gun in your hand, mumbling something about how Helmut would have insisted. 

better safe than sorry.

Tracksuits were crawling all over the place. Silently, you crept across the metal walkway toward the other side of the warehouse, where you could see light coming through the cracks of a closed door. You froze when you heard screaming, and the men below you all sprinted toward the door.  

"He’s out of control again!” A bloodied man stumbled through the door you were standing above. 

FUCKING GET THEM BUCKY

“Give him another dose! Idiots!” Hanna’s nasally voice almost distracted you from your disciplined thinking.

she’s dead.

A heavy door slammed shut, and automatic locks slid into place. In the silence, you could hear Hanna’s heels clicking against the cement floor–she was pacing. Then you heard Bucky’s faint crying, barely a sniffle, and your vision went red. 

I have chills, CHILLS

Bucky held his breath for as long as he could, hoping the aerosol drug would dissipate. He couldn’t go back under–he needed to get out– get to you . But, his vision was already starting to go dark around the edges; the people in the room faded into background noise as he sank to his knees in the cage they had locked him in. He was briefly aware that he was being lifted off the floor and placed back into the chair he had just escaped from. A needle inserted into his vein as buckles went around his limbs to lock him in place. And then he was gone. 

oh fuck me, I’m tearing up 🥺

THIS ENTIRE DREAM SEQUENCE IS CRUSHING MY HEART

Yelena squatted down to look him in the eye. “I remember you—I was only eight years old the first time you came. Do you remember me? Or do all the scared little girls you trained just jumble together into one terrified face?” 

HAYLIE STOP IT

Happy tears sprang to Bucky’s eyes as he recognized Steve leaning against the door frame. 

…cautiously optimistic…?

“You weren’t worth it. Why do you think I left? Did you really expect me to wallow in the darkness with you? I deserve to be happy.” 

YOU FUCKING WHAT, MATE?!

say that again.

FUCKING SAY THAT AGAIN, I DARE YOU!

“Steve, I–” Bucky choked back a sob, looking down at his feet. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, but when he looked up, Steve was already gone. 

Fuck you and the angst horse you rode in on, you bitch. This is not fair. 😭

Like a lion hunting its prey, you only saw Hanna’s less than smug face as you slashed through the Tracksuits blocking your path. Your rage blinded you as you chased Hanna through a maze of boxes and conveyor belts. 

RIP THE BITCH TO SHREDS!

The men lifted you and sat you across from Hanna. She had the same sharp features that Stephan had, the same sparkling green eyes and arrogance. But she was missing the natural power, the ability to make everyone want to drop to their knees and do whatever he said. She was flailing, a child playing an adult’s game. 

a pathetic piece of shit is an understatement.

“Fine,” Hanna sighed, trying to keep her composure. “Do him again–she’ll like that.” 

DO WHAT?!

You turned your head toward Bucky just as he started screaming again. He broke through his restraints, and you thought maybe things were turning in your favor. But he remained where he was like he was still strapped to the chair, his flesh hand clawing his left shoulder like he was trying to rip it off. 

THAT IS ME SQUARING UP, IMMA FIGHT THESE FUCKERS

“After you killed her last scientist, the Power Broker found a new one–apparently Hydra had a lot of secret projects that are still out there. I believe this one,” Hanna pointed to a container full of red vials. “Is supposed to mimic the mind control one of their super twins could do with just her fingers.” Hanna wiggled her fingers in your face. “I don’t know what he’s seeing, but we hardly touched him.” Hanna forced your head back in Bucky’s direction. “I mean, yeah, we had to torture him a bit, just some light electric shocks–calm down,” Hanna paused, waiting for you to stop moving. “But most of that he did to himself.”

I can’t believe what I’m reading. I can’t.

At first, the physical pain was almost a relief from the ache Bucky felt watching Steve leave his apartment. But then he realized where he was–he could hardly see, but he could hear. He could hear that crude saw buzzing to life. He could smell the blood and the alcohol, a hospital? No, this wasn’t a place for healing. He knew what was coming; he tried to escape, he always tried–ripping through his restraints was as far as he got every time. He tried not to scream; he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, didn’t want to see that secretly pleased glint in their eyes as they took him apart and put him back together again. But as the teeth of the saw dug into his skin, through his muscle, and touched his bone, he had no choice–he would bite his tongue off otherwise. And there was that fucking sick smile on their faces–they wanted him awake, they wanted him to hurt, to beg for death. 

YOU- WHAT- STOP IT 😭😭😭

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you–who do you think I am? She should be here soon. My job was just to get you here.” 

I wanna kill them all. HOW DARE THEY HURT MY BABIES 😡😡😡

Hanna jumped, a soft squeak leaving her throat, and you knew you had her. But before Hanna could say anything, a large black and red disc flew over your head, and Hanna screamed, barely ducking out of the way. 

NOT THE WISH CAPTAIN AMERICA

Walker grabbed his makeshift shield and turned to you with a friendly smile. “Prince Charming to your rescue.” 

Up looking motherfucker.

“Saving your ass–Yelena called–you’re welcome,” Walker sighed exasperatedly as he watched you grab a handful of Hanna’s hair and yank her to the ground.  

seriously, Yelena? HIM?!

“A please would–”

I’m bashing him across the head with his own fucking shield I swear to fuck.

The fear you had locked away seeped through the cracks of your resolve. The mechanical, ruthless soldier dissolved with every frantic step you took in Bucky’s direction. This wasn’t a mission. This was Bucky. The love of your life, and he needed you. 

AHHHHAHAHA 😭😭😭

“Bucky,” you couldn’t touch his chest; he was too bloody; your hand gently settled on his face instead. “Bucky, baby, it’s me,” you said softly, mustering what little strength you had left to keep your shit together. “You’re safe–it's okay. I’m gonna take you home.” 

HOME

Bucky slowly turned his head, his breathing returning to normal as he took you in. “Doll?” He stumbled off the table, wrapping his arms around you as he sunk to the floor, still too weak to stand. “Doll, I’m sorry,” he nearly sobbed, but he was out of tears. “Please, don’t leave.” 

You winced when he squeezed you tighter and tighter; his bloody fingernails dug into your skin like hooks. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you gasped as Bucky sank his hooks in deeper. You tried to hold him just as firmly. “I’ve got you. I’m so sorry, Bucky. So sorry.” 

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT

Bucky furrowed his brow slightly, and you reached around to gently pry one of his hands off your side. He hadn’t realized he was holding you so tightly—he couldn’t fucking think. He just let you remove him, fighting the urge to never let go. 

PLEASE HE NEEDS SOMETHING 😭

You stood up, trying to stop your body from shaking, but you were covered in Bucky’s blood, he was acting like a zombie, and it was all your fault.

Your Eyes Outshine The Town...Chapter 11

Bucky Barnes x Black Female Reader

18+ ONLY

Summary: In order to rescue Bucky, you revert to a version of yourself you thought was gone. Help comes from an unlikely source.

Warnings: ANGST. Violence. Reader has a violence problem. Trauma, trauma, all around.

*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*

4 Days Before Christmas

It was dark on the edges of the town. No more twinkling lights to cover up the true nature of the city. Ozenik's tires crunched against the gravel as he stopped the car a short distance from a grim-gray abandoned warehouse. You were aware that he had been talking–something about Central Park and the motorcycle he had left for you–but you weren't listening. You had to remain focused or risk completely falling apart before even stepping inside. You were well versed in shutting down, turning yourself into the efficient, ruthless soldier you needed to be. Your fear was securely locked away, and as you opened the car door, Ozenik shoved a gun in your hand, mumbling something about how Helmut would have insisted. 

The icy wind should have cut straight through the thin red henley that draped your body, and your legs should have shaken in the black biker shorts that barely reached your thighs. But the cold didn’t register in your hyper-focused mind. After quickly taking out a few guards at the back of the building, you climbed a ladder to the roof and slipped inside through a fire escape. You paused briefly to listen for any sign that they knew you were there and when you heard none, you ran down the stairs and pulled open the first door you came to. 

It led you onto the second-level walkway, high above the old machinery and left behind boxes. As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you made out moving shapes below you. Tracksuits were crawling all over the place. Silently, you crept across the metal walkway toward the other side of the warehouse, where you could see light coming through the cracks of a closed door. You froze when you heard screaming, and the men below you all sprinted toward the door.  

"He’s out of control again!” A bloodied man stumbled through the door you were standing above. 

Bucky. 

You breathed a sigh of relief—you had at least located him. Target detected. Next step–acquire. 

“Give him another dose! Idiots!” Hanna’s nasally voice almost distracted you from your disciplined thinking.

 Bucky groaned, and everything went silent. 

What are they giving him? 

A heavy door slammed shut, and automatic locks slid into place. In the silence, you could hear Hanna’s heels clicking against the cement floor–she was pacing. Then you heard Bucky’s faint crying, barely a sniffle, and your vision went red. 

**

Bucky held his breath for as long as he could, hoping the aerosol drug would dissipate. He couldn’t go back under–he needed to get out– get to you . But, his vision was already starting to go dark around the edges; the people in the room faded into background noise as he sank to his knees in the cage they had locked him in. He was briefly aware that he was being lifted off the floor and placed back into the chair he had just escaped from. A needle inserted into his vein as buckles went around his limbs to lock him in place. And then he was gone. 

He opened his eyes–you had been yelling, but he didn’t know what you said. He turned his head and found you. A look of disgust was on your face; your suitcase was in your hands. you were leaving. 

Bucky panicked, jumping up to stop you, but you pushed him away, throwing off his already shaky balance and knocking him to the floor. 

“I don’t want you!” 

“Doll–wait, what did I do?” 

You laughed, turning back to him. “You really thought I could love you? You’re so–so broken.” 

Bucky scrambled to his feet, trying to follow you out the door, but he felt like he was running in sand. He couldn’t move fast enough. Suddenly Sam appeared in the hall, blocking him from reaching you. 

“Sam, please! I can’t lose her!” 

Sam scoffed, crossing his arms. “You already have. Don’t bother coming on the mission, either. I can’t trust you.” 

Bucky’s head hurt; he finally tore his eyes away from you and looked at Sam. 

“Sam, please. I’m sorry.”

“You really thought we wanted you on the team? That you could just pretend you’re not a monster?” 

Sam turned and left Bucky, joining you at the elevators down the hall. 

“Wait!” Bucky couldn’t stand any more; something was dragging him down. He tried to crawl toward them but was stopped when Yelena stood in his path. 

“Yelena, please help me—please.” 

Yelena squatted down to look him in the eye. “I remember you—I was only eight years old the first time you came. Do you remember me? Or do all the scared little girls you trained just jumble together into one terrified face?” 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky sobbed–barely able to see Yelena’s face through his tears. 

“Zhalkiy,” Yelena spat before turning on her heel and joining you and Sam in the elevator. 

“No,” Bucky again tried to get to his feet, but he couldn’t move. “Don’t leave, please, I’m sorry!” 

As the elevator doors shut, Bucky couldn’t breathe. His chest was too tight, his heart beating too fast. His vision blurred again, and he didn’t know if it was from his tears or something else. When he opened his eyes, he was on the floor of his apartment–all of the Christmas decor and your spirit stripped from it. He sat alone on the bare floor, his arms wrapped around his knees as he stared into the darkness. 

Alone. Eyes rimmed red, nothing to listen to but his own hiccups and sniffles as he tried not to cry again. 

This is what he knew he deserved.

A frustrated sigh from the other side of the room made Bucky jump–someone was here. 

“You tried to tell me–guess you were right after all.” 

Happy tears sprang to Bucky’s eyes as he recognized Steve leaning against the door frame. 

“Steve? What are you doing here?” Bucky jumped up, smoothing his shirt down and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Wait, what are you talking about? I was right about what?” 

Steve sighed again, his mouth forming an irritated line. “What do you think?” 

His exasperated tone made Bucky flinch back. 

“You weren’t worth it. Why do you think I left? Did you really expect me to wallow in the darkness with you? I deserve to be happy.” 

“Steve, I–” Bucky choked back a sob, looking down at his feet. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, but when he looked up, Steve was already gone. 

**

You channeled your anger into your efficiency. You leaped from the walkway, landing on the shoulders of a surprised man below you–you should have been quieter, but you didn’t care anymore. Your kitchen knife sloppily sliced his neck, and you fell to the floor with him, rolling to your feet just in time to cut your blade through the next attacker. 

Somehow over the crunch of bones, the wet, slick noises of your knife penetrating skin, and the screaming, you could still hear Bucky’s tears. Time felt like it was slowing down with each pump of adrenaline that flowed through you. You weren't moving fast enough, though the pile of bodies behind you as you pushed through the door would suggest otherwise. 

The sight of Bucky, locked in a cage, bleeding, crying, stopped You in your tracks. Your fear sat in the back of your throat, threatening to take over. Your lip trembled as you started to take a step toward him. 

What did they do to him?

It didn’t make sense—you knew Bucky wasn’t the killing machine he could be, but he would never hold back this much. Something was very wrong. 

“Put your weapons down, or I’ll make it worse.” 

You quickly turned away from Bucky and faced Hanna’s pointy face, and your rage returned. All the things you had thought about saying to the bitch tangled together in your throat and came out as one sharp cry before you attacked. 

Like a lion hunting its prey, you only saw Hanna’s less than smug face as you slashed through the Tracksuits blocking your path. Your rage blinded you as you chased Hanna through a maze of boxes and conveyor belts. 

“I thought you wanted to talk?! Stop running!” You fired your gun, hitting Hanna’s calf. 

Hanna’s screaming briefly gave you a feeling of relief; you wanted the bitch to hurt. 

You were caught off guard when two pairs of strong hands grabbed you from behind and yanked you to the floor. You looked up–two cavemen-looking grunts dragged you across the floor as you struggled. 

These were not the normal Tracksuits you were used to–this must be the special reserves. You wondered if these were the two that took Bucky, and as they dragged you toward his cage, you fought harder. They pushed you up against the glass, and you closed your eyes–Bucky was still crying. You had never seen him cry like this. His chest was covered in so much blood you couldn’t tell where the wounds were. 

“What did you do to him?!” You struggled again, but it was useless. 

Now that the threat had tampered, Hanna reemerged, limping toward you with the help of another one of her men. But her confidence was still shaken as she walked past the dead bodies you had left behind. 

“Bring her over here–we need to talk,” Hanna said through grit teeth.  

The men lifted you and sat you across from Hanna. She had the same sharp features that Stephan had, the same sparkling green eyes and arrogance. But she was missing the natural power, the ability to make everyone want to drop to their knees and do whatever he said. She was flailing, a child playing an adult’s game. 

As soon as the large hands holding you down released you, you lunged at Hanna, almost wrapping your hands around her throat before you were pulled back into your chair. 

“I’m gonna kill you–” 

“Shut her up,” Hanna waved a hand, and one of the men slapped you across the face. 

His ring tore into your cheek, and you clenched your fists to keep from giving them the satisfaction of a reaction. Your eyes focused on the blood soaking through the cloth wrapped around Hanna’s leg, trickling down her shin and staining her pink shoes. 

“I’m going to kill you–you fucking bitch,” you met Hanna’s eyes. 

“Fine,” Hanna sighed, trying to keep her composure. “Do him again–she’ll like that.” 

You turned your head toward Bucky just as he started screaming again. He broke through his restraints, and you thought maybe things were turning in your favor. But he remained where he was like he was still strapped to the chair, his flesh hand clawing his left shoulder like he was trying to rip it off. 

“What are you doing to him?!” You couldn’t look away, but Hanna forcefully turned your face towards her.

“It’s a little drug cocktail–my friend, think you know her, had it made just for him. With my help, of course.” 

You furrowed your brows. 

“Money,” Hanna rolled her eyes. “After you killed her last scientist, the Power Broker found a new one–apparently Hydra had a lot of secret projects that are still out there. I believe this one,” Hanna pointed to a container full of red vials. “Is supposed to mimic the mind control one of their super twins could do with just her fingers.” Hanna wiggled her fingers in your face. “I don’t know what he’s seeing, but we hardly touched him.” Hanna forced your head back in Bucky’s direction. “I mean, yeah, we had to torture him a bit, just some light electric shocks–calm down,” Hanna paused, waiting for you to stop moving. “But most of that he did to himself.”

**

At first, the physical pain was almost a relief from the ache Bucky felt watching Steve leave his apartment. But then he realized where he was–he could hardly see, but he could hear. He could hear that crude saw buzzing to life. He could smell the blood and the alcohol, a hospital? No, this wasn’t a place for healing. He knew what was coming; he tried to escape, he always tried–ripping through his restraints was as far as he got every time. He tried not to scream; he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, didn’t want to see that secretly pleased glint in their eyes as they took him apart and put him back together again. But as the teeth of the saw dug into his skin, through his muscle, and touched his bone, he had no choice–he would bite his tongue off otherwise. And there was that fucking sick smile on their faces–they wanted him awake, they wanted him to hurt, to beg for death. 

He woke up again, cold and alone and in so much pain. His left shoulder screamed under the weight of something foreign, and when he looked down and saw it–saw the silver shining in the moonlight, he screamed again–he had to get it off–get it off.  

**

You fought the urge to cry–now was not the time. “You have me! Stop it! Let him go!” 

Hanna waved her hand again, and eventually, Bucky quieted down to a soft whimper behind you. 

“You fucking crazy bitch–I didn’t kill Stephan! The Power Broker’s men did!” 

Hanna sat back in her chair, unimpressed. 

“What did she tell you, huh? How exactly did I kill him?” Your leg bounced up and down, you were losing your patience, and you didn’t have time for this conversation. 

“You shot him–all he ever tried to do was take care of you, and you betrayed him over and over and over again. I tried to warn him–”

“I loved him!” You were caught off guard by your own hysterical scream. Facing Hanna was too much–reminded you too much of him of the guilt you still harbored. “He would have destroyed me, and I still loved him! I had to watch him die–”

“Shut up!” Hanna stood from her chair, wincing as she nervously paced. “We’re done talking.” 

“Good,” you sniffed, swallowing your tears. “Just kill me then, get it over with.” 

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you–who do you think I am? She should be here soon. My job was just to get you here.” 

You perked up. “The Power Broker is coming here?” You laughed. After all the time you, Bucky, and Sam had spent trying to get her out of hiding…and now she was coming right to you. 

“What?” All confidence ripped from her, Hanna turned in your direction, not even attempting to hide the worry on her face. 

“You really are stupid. You have no idea who you’re dealing with–you do realize she’s probably hoping that I kill you before she shows up so that she doesn’t have to do it herself?” 

Hanna pressed her lips into a thin line, unconsciously taking a step backward. 

“I’ll make you deal–I won’t kill you if you let Bucky go and give me a name. Right now.” You paused for only a second. “Now, Hanna!” 

Hanna jumped, a soft squeak leaving her throat, and you knew you had her. But before Hanna could say anything, a large black and red disc flew over your head, and Hanna screamed, barely ducking out of the way. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you groaned before taking down the men restraining you while they were distracted by the Captain America knock-off running in their direction. 

Walker grabbed his makeshift shield and turned to you with a friendly smile. “Prince Charming to your rescue.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You yelled; the last time you had seen him was when he murdered a Flag Smasher with Sam’s shield. You wanted to hit him, but there was no time; Hanna was limping away. 

“Saving your ass–Yelena called–you’re welcome,” Walker sighed exasperatedly as he watched you grab a handful of Hanna’s hair and yank her to the ground.  

“Jesus Christ, Yelena–just shut up and be useful, go get Bucky.” 

“A please would–”

“Go!”

You turned your attention back to Hanna as Walker ran off. “Name. Now.”  

“It was really the Power Broker?” Hanna, eyes full of tears, looked up at you. “Why?” 

You didn’t answer…but you didn’t need to. Hanna knew, she knew she had been played. 

“I’m sorry,” Hanna choked out, starting to hyperventilate. 

“No, get your shit together! I need a name, now!”

Hanna’s lip trembled as you pressed a blade against her throat. “I don’t know, I swear!” 

You pressed harder. The more Hanna cried and apologized, the angrier you got. Your voice was raw, an open wound pumping blood with each word you screamed in Hanna’s face. 

Hanna could have told you the name by now, but you wouldn’t have heard it—one phrase was repeating in your head. Kill the target. 

You refused to see the whisper of Stephan in Hanna’s eyes. 

Refused to acknowledge her tears. 

Not human. 

Kill the target. 

“Hey! Get on with it already; Bucky needs you!” Walker’s voice cut through everything as if ice water had been dumped over your head. 

Bucky needs you. 

You lowered the knife, turning your head toward Walker’s voice. He had the glass door open but was refusing to step inside.  

“Run. Stay hidden.” You barely glanced at Hanna as you spoke. The fear you had locked away seeped through the cracks of your resolve. The mechanical, ruthless soldier dissolved with every frantic step you took in Bucky’s direction. This wasn’t a mission. This was Bucky. The love of your life, and he needed you. 

You ran faster, tripping over bodies as tears blurred your vision. “What are you waiting for?!” You roared at Walker. 

“He’s unstable! I don’t know what I’m walking into here.” 

“Such a big help; I’m glad you’re here,” you shoved him out of the way.

“You’re insufferable. I already took out all of the guards outside and saved your ass–”

“Yeah, and ruined my shot at the Power Broker, you fucking idiot.” You rushed through the door to Bucky’s side. You haphazardly yanked the IV out of his arm, and he immediately sat up, gasping, his eyes wild and confused. 

“Bucky,” you couldn’t touch his chest; he was too bloody; your hand gently settled on his face instead. “Bucky, baby, it’s me,” you said softly, mustering what little strength you had left to keep your shit together. “You’re safe–it's okay. I’m gonna take you home.” 

Bucky slowly turned his head, his breathing returning to normal as he took you in. “Doll?” He stumbled off the table, wrapping his arms around you as he sunk to the floor, still too weak to stand. “Doll, I’m sorry,” he nearly sobbed, but he was out of tears. “Please, don’t leave.” 

You winced when he squeezed you tighter and tighter; his bloody fingernails dug into your skin like hooks. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you gasped as Bucky sank his hooks in deeper. You tried to hold him just as firmly. “I’ve got you. I’m so sorry, Bucky. So sorry.” 

The heaving of his chest slowed, but his grip on you didn’t lessen. 

You looked up at Walker, helpless underneath Bucky’s weight. “Help me–please.” 

Walker stepped into the cage and reached out to help Bucky stand up. You put your hand up, stopping him. 

“Hey, Bucky–“ you smoothed a hand through his hair until his wide eyes finally looked up at you. You tried to offer him a soothing smile, but the movement felt like it was ripping your face open. “Walker’s here; he’s gonna help us get out of here, okay?” 

Bucky simply nodded, too tired to do anything else.

“You gotta let me go, baby; I’m not leaving you, I promise.” 

Bucky furrowed his brow slightly, and you reached around to gently pry one of his hands off your side. He hadn’t realized he was holding you so tightly—he couldn’t fucking think. He just let you remove him, fighting the urge to never let go. 

Walker lifted him off of you, placing one of Bucky’s arms around his shoulders so he could help him walk. Bucky’s vision went white, pain shooting through every nerve ending he had. 

You stood up, trying to stop your body from shaking, but you were covered in Bucky’s blood, he was acting like a zombie, and it was all your fault.

Don’t forget to reblog! 😉

*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*

Taglist: @delaber @mannien @raindrcpsangel @cjand10

[ptergwen]

love is more than a word

w/c: a very ouch 3.6k

warnings: so so so much angst and an unhealthy (ish) relationship

summary: after nearly four years together, peter has stopped trying

a/n: listen y’all i don’t know what came over me when i made this but i think it’s the saddest thing i’ve ever written? uh try to enjoy tho

-

you never thought this would happen, but you’re getting tired of peter. it isn’t your fault. that cliche it’s not you, it’s me line doesn’t apply here.

at first, you actually did find yourself believing the it’s me part. you’d came to the conclusion that you expect too much from peter. he goes to class, he works, patrols, sometimes parties, takes you out when he can. he’s got a lot going on for a full time college student, which is a busy life to lead on its own.

it’s why you don’t complain when he wants to spend the night in and order a pizza instead of cooking together like you’ve been wanting to try. it’s why every time your friends ask you two to hang, you have to reluctantly explain that peter is passed out at eight o’clock on a saturday.

there’s a lazy “wanna make out?” some nights, if peter isn’t yawning when he steps through the front door. even that has lost its enjoyment. kissing peter doesn’t give you the rush it used to, the taste of his strawberry chapstick not flooding your senses and intoxicating you. it’s become predictable. comfortable. boring.

peter is boring.

you’ve slipped into unspoken routine. say your hello’s, work on separate assignments in different rooms. peter eventually yells something like “babe, you hungry yet?” across the apartment, his passive way of asking you to make dinner. you usually order takeout because why make an effort if he doesn’t?

you might watch one of the ten movies peter has liked since before the start of your relationship. he’ll usually fall asleep during it. no surprise there. his overpacked schedule exhausts him, which you’ve talked to him about spreading himself too thin. peter is too nice and can’t say no, so this is where it leaves him.

the main reason you’ve stayed with him is that he can’t take care of himself. he’s clueless about paying the bills, sorting his laundry, simply remembering to drink water. peter wouldn’t be able to go a week without you. he even says it himself.

“crap, i totally forgot about these,” when you picked up his special ordered textbooks from your school library. “can food go in the garbage disposal?” a rare time you didn’t wash the dishes. “thank you, y/n/n. you’re literally a lifesaver,” whenever you do a task for him that someone in their 20s shouldn’t need assistance with.

you didn’t used to mind much. he watches over the city every night. you felt you should return the favor. spider-man could use some help, too. after the almost four years you’ve been together, peter has become completely dependent on you. it only got worse when you moved in together your junior year. you’re concerned how he’ll manage later in his adult life.

you’d think he’d be a little more passionate about your relationship considering how much he needs you. you know peter still loves you, of course he does. that’s not what the problem is. he’s become content with the mutual feeling, so he doesn’t try anymore. he expects the spark to keep itself lit.

no more random joke of the day texts that he used to send you. he stopped surprising you with your coffee order in the morning, the one that he memorized the first time you two went to a starbucks. what you initially found most endearing about peter was that he remembered every little thing you told him.

he put whatever energy he had into showing you that he listened. he’d do it all with rosy cheeks and that toothy smile of his. it seems now like he’s under the impression that being in a long term relationship means none of that matters anymore. there’s no need to impress you, keep you guessing, make you feel special.

tonight is your breaking point. as you go over all of this in your head while peter lays peacefully next to you, you can’t take it. you’ve been making so many excuses for him. you lie to yourself. you’re desperate to believe this is okay and normal and you can work this out, and you can love whatever version of him this is.

but, you can’t. you can’t do it. you need to tell him now because if you sleep on this, you’ll end up feeling bad and be stuck under these suffocating blankets forever.

“peter?” you whisper his name, your back turned to him in bed. you haven’t cuddled each other to sleep in a while. his arms don’t make you feel held now, they make you feel trapped. you’ve been forcing yourself to ignore his look of hurt when you reject his open embrace.

“peter?” you speak louder after a moment of silence, except for his occasional snores. a loud one escapes him before they stop altogether. his eyes stay shut as he mumbles out a, “uh... huh?” your heart is thudding through your entire body. you take a breath in from your nose. “i wanna break up.”

the breath you let out next is one of relief, those three words that have been scratching your throat for months finally out. peter slowly turns his head over his shoulder. he blinks rapidly at your motionless figure. you’re still not facing him.

“what?” is all he says. his voice is surprisingly steady, the confession not yet registering with his sleepy mind. his eyes are burning into you. “i wanna break up,” you repeat and squish your face further into your pillow. peter suddenly sits up, flicking on the lamp on his side. he tries to sling an arm around you. you move further away until you’re at the edge of the bed.

“i’m serious, peter. everything we had, it’s gone.” your words cut through him harder than literal knives he’s been stabbed with. “i- i don’t understand. where is this coming from?” he rakes a hand through his mess of curls. you turn onto your back, looking up at peter. his eyes are fixed on your lower half.

he’ll most definitely cry if he meets your eyes. he really doesn’t want to cry, not ever again when you won’t be here to make him feel better.

“it’s been coming,” you almost scoff at him as you prop yourself up against your pillows. peter’s teeth tug at his lower lip. “all we do is this.” you gesture to your bed, slapping your hand down at your side. “i get tired,” he speaks quietly, refusing to look at you. “i know you do, peter. i know, but you’d be a lot happier if you ever listened to me.”

your statement comes off as condescending to him. he works up the courage to look you in the face. “are you kidding? all you do is boss me around, and i take it. i’ve never once complained.” anger is coursing through his veins and voice. at the situation, that he’s about to lose the one stable part of his life. you’re getting pissed, too.

“that’s because you can’t do anything yourself!” you throw the blankets off you and swing your legs over the bed in one motion. peter hops out of bed entirely. “my whole life, i’ve been on my own half the time,” he spits as he comes over to stand in front of you. “sorry for taking you up on your offers to help.”

your peter would never spew that shit out. he wouldn’t guilt you for something he’s in the wrong about. this peter takes you for granted. he has no clue how fucked he’d be without you.

the first time you spoke to peter was on your way to history 227. you’d recognized him from your class, much more interested in the pretty boy taking notes with his tongue stuck out than whatever war your professor would lecture about.

he was carrying some books, a pencil case that didn’t fully zip, and a five subject notebook. you watched him do his balancing act through the halls until his legs started to wobble. a knowing smile on your face, you tapped his shoulder. it was a gentle one so you didn’t scare him and make all his things fall over.

“can i carry something for you?” you laughed out and pushed one of your backpack straps up on your shoulder. peter only stared at you, his doe eyes prompting you to reach for his pencil case. “uh, no, it’s fine. i got it. see?” he proved that to you by hiking everything up in his arms. he gave you a smile of his own.

“are you sure? we’re going to the same place,” you’d checked again and pointed at his impressive pile. “i’m not gonna steal your sharpies.” “really, i’m fine,” peter insisted with a heart clenching chuckle. “you can have one, if you want,” he offered and attempted to unzip his case, one handed. you put your hand over his to stop him.

“wait until we get to class,” you let go of him, leaving the tips of peter’s ears a shade of pink you’d later fall in love with. “i’ll sit with you.”

peter was once determined to do things on his own, to be self-sufficient. it used to be something he was proud of. now, he’s completely incapable of holding his independence.

“we’re done, peter.” your tone is short, you getting to your feet. “you’d probably forget how to fucking breathe without me, but call it bossing around, i guess,” you laugh bitterly and go over to your drawers. peter’s face falls as he grabs your wrist, stopping you when you pass by him. “where are you going?”

no answer. you pull yourself out of his grasp with your lips pressed into a stern line. peter follows you step by step over to the dresser. “wait, wait. don’t leave, baby. please,” he begs you, getting onto his knees beside you. you’re pulling random clothes out as quick as you can. a science t-shirt peter outgrew is in your hands.

peter used to give you all his old clothes. the signature smell of his cologne lingered no matter how many times you washed them. they kept you calm on nights he was out late patrolling or away on missions. peter would sport a smirk whenever you wore them out in public, pulling you closer to him and complimenting the look.

it started when he was packing for his first mission since you two had begun living together. he’d realized he became too buff to fit in some shirts. remembering how many times you’d giggle at their funny sayings, peter gave them to you. you threw one on and thanked him with a peck on the cheek. it became your tradition.

peter would set off for a new continent, but a piece of him would stay home with you.

the stretched out hoodies and ripped sweatpants just sit in your drawer now. another meaningful thing discontinued. whatever he doesn’t want goes to may for donations now. the memory of what they used to mean to you makes a fit of rage burst through you.

you slam down his ‘find x’ shirt in the space between his knees and yours. you’re on a mission of your own this time. you aren’t going anywhere until you get rid of all the stuff that went from him to you.

“y/n, don’t do this. i- i love you. i love you.” peter chokes out, tears filling his eyes. his vision is clouded while you toss more clothes to your side. “i love you, y/n/n,” he whimpers again, and this time you briskly push the drawer shut. the whole dresser shakes. this is the most emotion either of you have shown in the past few months of your relationship. it’s a little too late.

“love is more than a word, peter. you have to back it up with actions.” you’re doing your best not to cry. the memories of how loved peter made you feel play in your mind. he briefly wipes under his eyes and shakes his head. he’s so oblivious. “i thought i- i did.” “exactly, you did. you gave up at some point.” your voice gets weaker as a tear drips down your chin.

you didn’t plan on breaking down when you imagined this moment. part of you wishes you could give him another chance. most of you knows it wouldn’t do any good for you or peter. you’re not right for each other anymore. he outgrew some sweatshirts, you outgrew him.

that takes you all the way back to it’s not you, it’s me. it’s really both of you.

for the last time, you pull peter in for a hug. the two of you need this. he loops his arms around your back, keeping them loose around you as he tucks his face into the side of your neck. you’re a mix of tears and sharp breaths with your chin on his shoulder. you bring a hand up to the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of curls.

he sobs right into your ear, effectively destroying whatever composure you had left.

even though you’re not in love with peter, you haven’t stopped loving him. somewhere inside of him is the goofy boy who asked you out on a post-it during class. the kindhearted man who gave so much of himself to the world and saved enough for you. the one whose fingertips left goosebumps on your skin with every touch.

seeing him like this, having caused it feels like a dull pain rippling in every part of your body. you’ve been there to soothe him during countless breakdowns over the years. you managed to stay strong for all of them. this is the only exception. he lost people, felt down about life, made mistakes. you were there to pick up each piece and put them back together.

the one mistake peter made that you can’t fix is not loving you right. you became his rock, his anchor whenever he let grief and sadness rule over him. you’d get him back to himself. he could’ve at least bought you flowers once in a while, or done anything that showed his gratitude. every iteration of awful put together isn’t enough to describe how he feels.

“i’m so- i’m so fucking sorry, baby. i don’t deserve you. i never have,” peter murmurs as he cries, wetting your skin that his face is still pressed into. your fingers pull roughly at his hair. hot tears overflow from your own eyes. “i should’ve done more.” his voice cracks on the last word. “that’s all i wanted to hear, pete,” you breathe out and pull away from him.

“does that mean you’ll stay?” he croaks, arms still wound around your body. his eyes are hopeful when they lock with yours. a frown pulls at your lips. “only for tonight. i should... one of us should sleep on the couch.” “oh,” his voice is gravelly, so he clears his throat. “i’ll do it.” you’re not going to fight him on it for once.

peter removes his arms from your waist, you sitting back down on your thighs. you give him a blink and you’ll miss it smile because you can’t keep one for long. it’s to let him know you’re not mad. you were at the start of this conversation, then he took accountability. you also came to terms with the fact that the downfall of your relationship was a joined effort.

there are more factors than peter not giving you what he should have. time, different goals, new outlooks on life. you can’t hate only him because a whole bunch of things lead to this.

instead of a smile, since he physically can’t put one on his splotchy face, peter brushes the pad of his thumb over the corner of your lips. he gets up to leave the room, but you stop him with a “wait!” he freezes in front of you. you get out a hoodie from his pile of old clothes and stand up. “it’s cold.” you put it in his hands, earning a grin that he didn’t think was possible.

“thanks, y/n,” peter sighs and holds the hoodie against his chest. “goodnight. um,” this is the part where he’d usually say i love you. “sleep well, okay?” the replacement stings for both of you. you’ll have to learn to fall asleep without hearing that phrase first. as much as you didn’t feel it anymore, you’d become used to it. “you too, peter. night,” you say softly.

you head back to your bed while peter walks out the door. he glances at you once, and you’re already settling under the covers. he shuts the door behind him before finding his way to the couch.

your bed has always seemed too small. it’s gigantic without peter. you aren’t sure how you feel about that yet.

peter lays across the couch, the hood that doesn’t quite fit him pulled over his head. he’s only wearing it because you gave it to him. you doing that not even five minutes ago was how you backed up your love with actions. it’s so easy. silent tears spill from his eyes at the realization.

he wishes on every star that he could’ve figured out he wasn’t doing enough sooner. you’d be together right now, had he just caught on. there was a time he prided himself on knowing you fully and completely. how to turn you into the shy one with certain combinations of words, what your schedule was each week so he could plan his free time around it.

your relationship became something he thought would last unconditionally. if only he was able pinpoint the exact moment he went wrong.

you’re right in the other room. he can go in there and bawl, plead for you to take him back. how could he do that and claim to love you, though? you’ve made it clear you‘re over him.

the best way for peter to show you he loves you is by letting you live your life, without him in it.

-

you don’t see peter again for weeks. he moved back in with may, and you got to keep the apartment. you were the one who took all the care of it, anyway.

your semester ended at the perfect time because peter isn’t in any of your new classes. the city is too big to bump into each other. you’re free from the hold he had on you, which would’ve been four years long since yesterday. you’ve been good at picking up his broken pieces for too long, and now it’s time to pick up your own.

for all the hangouts you missed on his behalf, you made up for it. you called mj the day after your breakup and met for lunch. she never explicitly said it, but she took your side. peter had a feeling because when he had the same idea as you, to lean on his friends for support, she never reached out.

betty is indifferent, ned stays cordial with you. his real loyalty is to peter. you can’t blame him.

peter hasn’t been doing well since you broke up. he’s not eating enough, he can’t focus on work of any kind. you were right when you said he would forget how to breathe without you. he often wonders how you’ve been.

he finds out today.

you’re walking around campus, heading in the direction peter just came from. he has a class in the building your last one was. the two of you are on the same sidewalk, opposite sides. he almost doesn’t recognize you.

mj is on one side of you, a guy he’s never seen before with an arm around your shoulders. you’re all laughing about whatever dumb thing your professor said during the lecture. your hair, which is done in a new style, flows behind you in the spring breeze. a smile takes place on your glossy lips. the smile is directed towards that guy. your new boyfriend, peter assumes.

you look amazing, and not only physically. you seem happy with your small group of people. peter hadn’t been able to give you that happiness in years, so it’s nice to see you got it back somehow.

he must have stared too long because you notice him. you fall behind mj and your potential boyfriend, both of them wrapped up in discussing your next project. peter stops walking. you do the same. he’s not sure if he upset you, or what’s going on. his instincts tell him to apologize. his mouth stays closed.

that infectious smile of yours appears once again. you thought about peter yesterday, it being your anniversary and all. you’d only let yourself remember the good things. they outweighed the bad ones when you look back on everything.

“aye, grandma! get over here!” mj calls to you, your boyfriend nudging her side. “take your time, y/n/n. i’m not in a rush to write seven long ass pages.” you laugh to yourself at the two of them. peter fiddles with the zipper on his jacket. it’s from the drawer of things you used to wear. “one sec!” you yell back.

“hey,” you turn to face peter, who’s giving you a tight lipped smile. “how’ve you been?” “i’m okay. just, you know,” he shrugs and clasps his hands behind his back. there’s a short silence before peter says, “you seem good. really good.” he smiles for real this time. “yeah, i am. i hope you are, too,” you tell him and genuinely mean it.

you’d like to catch up soon, but it’s not right yet. you both need more time. “i’ll see you around?” you’re already starting to walk, backwards so you can see peter. “uh, sure. bye,” he gives you a quick wave and continues on his way.

you get back to mj and your boyfriend, his arm returning to your shoulders. they waited for you by the stoplight. “what’d ya get up to over there?” he teases, mj suspiciously watching your face for any tells. you carefully think through your answer with a grin. “love.”

[five-rivers]

@lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks came up with this op!Danny/Marvel AU!

BTW I need help naming this newest proof that I can't keep anything to a short little one-shot.

.

Loki was not, and never had been, a good man. For that matter, whether or not he’d ever been a good boy was debatable. His mother would argue that he had, but she would very likely be the only one. Well, except for Thor, perhaps, but that was because he was an idiot who could drown in three inches of nostalgia. Like he didn’t remember every time Loki had humiliated him. Maybe he didn’t, for all that he kept falling for the same trick over and over again.

It made Loki’s late nights studying the arts of illusion, misdirection, and lying seem redundant. Almost. Not everyone was as dense as his big brother.

No. Loki had never been a good man. He had, however, been a free man.

Free to run or hide. Free to explore the nooks and crannies of Asgard, to uncover her secrets in ways few cared to do. Free to walk hidden paths between the Nine Realms and even farther flung territories, where his people did not and had never ruled, to play games, make deals, have adventures, take risks. To be. To exist as his own creature.

He had been free. He had.

But on one of those little secret excursions, he had discovered something that had made even his flippant, slippery heart clench with fear. A ravening plague, spreading across the stars. The death of half of everything on the horizon.

Loki was not a good man. What cause did he have to care for all the sundry others in the universe? There were too many. It was too much to ask.

But Asgard—His home, even though the had long ago realized the blood in his veins originated on very different soil. That was different.

Asgard, he could help. Asgard could survive.

But it had to be strong. It had to have strong allies. None of this barely-held peace, this enemy eternally at their gates. It needed strong leadership. Not his brother’s simplistic view and longing for the glory of war.

Loki was not a good man. But he was one who could get things done.

Before he knew it, he had burned all his bridges behind him. In one case, a literal bridge that was literally broken.

And he fell.

And he fell.

And he fell right into the hands of the one he had feared enough to do this. Broken enough for poison to drip into the cracks. No one knew where he was, no one could know where he was, except, perhaps, Heimdal, and Loki sincerely doubted Heimdal cared. No one was coming for him. No one was looking for him. No rescue was forthcoming.

He was alone.

Asgardians were considered gods for a reason. Their bodies and minds were much more resilient than the average mortal’s. But Thanos’s people had been titans, and there was a reason for that, too.

Thanos enjoyed breaking him.

And Loki turned his lies on himself. A skilled master of games always had one gifted opponent, even alone. Hadn’t he wanted to rule? To command? To see a world, any world, prostrate at his feet? To be given the recognition and praise of which he was so worth?

To pull something, anything, out of the fire?

(If he had spent less time learning how to spin lies and more on how to see the truth, he might not have believed it. A better, wiser, man would have. But Loki was not a good man. And he was very skilled in his craft.)

So, his new master put a weapon in his hands, and he went off to conquer a world.

.

Danny was used to rude awakenings. He was used to those rude awakenings being full body chills and ghosts, not someone knocking on his door.

Blearily, he pulled himself out from under the blankets. Quasi-military government facility or not, the beds were comfortable. Maybe Mom or Dad had gotten themselves locked out of their room? Or Jazz—No, not Jazz, she hadn’t come with them. She was at college, not being flown places by Mom and Dad’s suspiciously generous new consulting job.

At least it wasn’t the GIW.

He stood on tiptoe (curse his perpetually short body) to peer out the peephole. His parents’ buff, one-eyed, and incredibly imposing new boss stood in front of the door, hands on his hips, slightly sweeping back his long dark coat. If Danny listened carefully, he could hear two other people near the door, and… was that an alarm? Yes. Faint, but present, was a warning klaxon.

Okay. Danny would bet his right arm that something had gone horribly wrong with whatever his parents were consulting on. Didn’t explain why the boss was in front of his door.

Unless they’d gotten the rooms mixed up, somehow?

Ugh. Danny wasn’t paid enough to deal with this.

He opened the door. “What-?”

“Phantom,” intoned eyepatch guy with great solemnity.

Danny immediately tried to close the door. The guy stuck his foot in the jamb, and, sure, Danny could have crushed it, but that would be a jerk move. He didn’t think this guy was going for a pirate look, after all.

“We need your help.”

.

“I’m not sure what you think I can help you with,” yelled Danny over the beating of the helicopter blades. He’d remained stubbornly in human form. “My parents are the scientists. This sounds like a science thing. Not a punching-people thing.”

“We spoke to them earlier,” said Fury, “and we have plenty of scientists working on the theories they brought up. You’re the one with practical experience.”

“Practical experience in what?”

“Interdimensional portals,” said the woman, who had yet to introduce herself.

As if this whole thing wasn’t already giving him a bad feeling. “My parents built an interdimensional portal. Again, you should be talking to them. They’re the ones you’re paying.”

“We could pay you, too,” said Fury, “but we assumed you would want to avoid letting your parents know about this, as you’re still a minor and they have control of your bank accounts.”

Danny stared flatly. “This is blackmail.”

“We aren’t threatening you,” pointed out the woman.

“Emotional blackmail,” said Danny, glaring, daring her to challenge him on whether or not he actually knew what blackmail was.

In the meantime, the helicopter landed. Danny unbuckled and hopped out, trailing slightly awkwardly behind Fury and the woman. He didn’t want to stand out, but he suspected that, being the only kid here and being in the general vicinity of Fury, who radiated authority, that was a lost cause.

“This is Agent Coulson. Coulson, this is Phantom.”

Danny’s mouth went dry(er) at how casual the introduction was. His eyes went nervously to all the other people running around the field. With all the noise, it was unlikely anyone had heard, but still…

“Can you not? Secret identity and all? Unless you’ve told everyone herealready, which, rude.”

Fury sighed. “How bad is it?” he asked Coulson.

“We’re not sure,” said Coulson. “That’s the problem. Big fan of your work, by the way,” he added as an aside to Danny. He glanced at the woman. “Agent Hill.”

“Background?” asked Fury as he led the way into the building.

“The first energy surge was four hours ago. Dr. Selvig’s equipment picked it up – He’s the head scientist on this project.”

“Dr. Selvig isn’t authorized to test,” said Fury. “We wanted to run his plans by the Fentons.”

“He wasn’t testing. He wasn’t even in the room. He called it ‘spontaneous advancement.’”

“It turned itself on?”

“What are the energy levels?” asked Fury before Hill’s question could be answered.

“Climbing,” said Coulson.

“Mr. Fenton,” said Fury, “any comments?”

“Look, I don’t even know what this thing that you built looks like or what it’s a door to.” Danny frowned as a thought occurred to him. “You’re not expecting me to fight whatever comes out of it, are you? Because, unless you’ve got a ghost portal down there, I can’t make guarantees.”

“It’s called the Tesseract,” said Coulson. “It’s supposed to be a connection to the other side of space. A source of unlimited energy. At least,” there was a note of humor in his voice despite the evacuation taking place around them, “that’s what the scientists say.”

“A door to space?” asked Danny, firmly shoving down his excitement at the prospect. “Like, a Stargate?” It was no good, he could practically feel himself sparkling. He took a firm grip of his core and reminded himself he might need to fight before the end of the day.

“Well, no,” said Coulson. “It’s this little… cube… thing.” He made a shape with his hands.

“Oh,” said Danny, mind still whirring. “You know, if it’s really a tesseract, it isn’t a cube in just three dimensions, so bigger things could come out of it than you’d think.” He’d seen some weird portals in the Ghost Zone.

“Well, right now, we’re just getting energy.” They entered a large room with an extremely sci-fi setup. It looked like they were planning to shoot some kind of laser across the room onto a platform surrounded by strange-looking panels. There were men with guns scattered around in what was probably a well thought out formation Danny couldn’t see. There was also a dude with a bow sitting up in the rafters. He frowned down at Danny as he noticed Danny noticing him.

“Dr. Selvig!”

“Director!”

“What do we know?”

Danny allowed himself to be distracted by the centerpiece of the room, a piece of machinery built around what was indeed a little cube thing. He tilted his head and approached, trying to get a better view of it around the people in lab coats and protective gear currently swarming it. He caught mention of radiation a grimaced.

It was unlikely to kill him, but, really, everyone here should probably be wearing more PPE. You never knew what was going to come out of an interdimensional portal, after all. Except trouble. Trouble was a pretty safe bet.

It was pretty. Blue. Reminded him a little of a blue raspberry ice pop. Part of him wanted to lick it. Which was stupid. He didn’t want to wind up half what-ever-lived-on-the-other-side on top of his regular ghost nonsense.

“Mr. Fenton?”

Danny jumped and turned, refocusing on the adults, who had multiplied while he’d been daydreaming. The guy with the bow had joined them.

“Mr. Fenton? Like the Doctors Fenton I spoke to earlier?” asked Selvig.

“Yeah, it’s—”

This, of course, was when everything decided to explode. Sort of.

The blue cube shot out a beam of energy that had more than a little in common with the Fenton Bazooka’s portal setting. The beam terminated on the platform, a portal rapidly forming.

Danny slid into a fighting stance, and barely even noticed as blue energy washed over the room, throwing many less-prepared people back.

Something shaped like a man stepped through the portal.

Danny did not break his stance. Still. “An alien,” he whispered, eyes wide. If they were friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space. If they weren’t friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space after Danny beat them up.

(Danny did not go ghost. Did not even think about going ghost. There were too many people here, and the space was too open.)

Fury attempted to negotiate. Danny approved. Not everything that came through an interdimensional portal was necessarily evil.

Except this guy apparently was. Go figure. He could also deflect bullets and was very good with throwing knives, which led to Danny having to pull several of the gun guys out of their own line of fire as well as the alien’s line of knife. Who would have thought an alien’s weapon of choice would be throwing knives? The energy-blasting spear was much more in line with his expectations.

The bow guy proved to be more competent than the gun guys. This didn’t really surprise Danny. Bow guy sort of had to be competent. Otherwise, no way would they let him go around with a bow. Like, seriously. A bow.

Even so, bow guy was fighting an alien and—

“You have heart,” said the alien, raising the spear.

Danny pushed bow guy out of the way, and his mind fuzzed out.

(The human part of it, anyway.)

.

Loki didn’t know what a child was doing here, and he didn’t particularly care. The boy would do for a hostage, at least. He had a mission he had to fulfil, or else…

Or else.

“Please don’t,” he said turning with a shadow of his usual lazy affect, vaguely insulted that the human thought he could be sneaker that him, “I still need that.”

The human went on and on, apparently burdened with the delusion that he was on the same level as Loki.

Loki was burdened with other things. A glorious purpose. Glad tidings. Freedom. What could be better than freedom?

“A world free from what?” asked the human.

“From freedom,” said Loki, and wasn’t that what he believed, now? Wasn’t that what he’d been shown? “Freedom is life’s great lie.” He would know. He was an excellent liar. “Once you accept that, in your heart—” He batted away an arrow and tsked. “Shield me, boy,” he demanded. Had Thanos misrepresented the scepter’s powers? Or was the boy merely—

A dome of green surrounded him and the boy, thrumming with magic the likes of which he had only seen once, in a tome thrice forbidden.

“Oh,” said Loki, almost purring. “You are interesting. What are you?”

“Half human, half ghost,” replied the boy, tersely.

Loki had never heard of such a creature. No matter. He’d be sure to make good use of him.

“Grab the scientist,” he said, nodding at the balding man who had been with his brother when he’d fought the Destroyer in the desert.

Loki wanted the archer. He seemed interesting. Useful.

.

Fenton was under thrall. Phantom knew what that felt like. A hundred feet under red water, trying not to drown, whispers everywhere. Pulling. Pushing. Prodding.

This was different, but the principle was the same.

Neither half of him could truly ‘fight’ the other. Fenton and Phantom were a single entity. Not two in lockstep. Even so.

Fenton grabbed onto Dr. Selvig, as ordered. Phantom made sure that was all they did.

“What are you doing, boy?” snapped Loki. “Follow me! Bring the scientist.”

And so, they followed.

.

Loki breathed. Acquiring Barton had been the right choice. The boy was powerful, but, perhaps because of his unique biology, did not have Barton’s presence of mind, and couldn’t have led him to such wonderful allies.

Allies.

These weren’t truly his allies. Nor were they subjects. They were…

Loki forced himself to breathe. He just had to follow the mission. Follow the mission, let Thanos’s army through. He’d been promised this world. He would have this world.

And then he could be… His mind stuttered over the next word, and he shook his head, trying to drive out the painful buzz of Thanos’s herald and mouthpiece trying to contact him.

He looked up at the drones bustling around, all according to his will. Except the boy, who stared at him, somehow managing to be both utterly blank and challenging at the same time.

He was alone, here.

He was alone.

But what did it matter? Bad men always wound up alone, and Loki… Loki could never be a good man.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

call out my name

summary: y/n overhears jj confessing to spencer that she’s always loved him (do i even need to explain further how this made my heart drop into my ass)

word count: 3,118                                                                                     reading time aprox: 12 mins

masterlist

The blood ran cold in my veins, making my arms shiver. My face paled an ugly rouge as the words left JJ’s supple lips; each phrase that strung out from her confession wrenched a small piece of my heart each time. It felt like a laceration to my throat, like my oxygen supply had been severed and I was unable to catch my breath.

I love you.

I have always loved you.

My lifeless eyes never tore away from the monitor that laid in front of me. In crystal clear pixels, there lay Spencer and JJ tied up in a convenience store with the unsub and two hostages. My body was visibly tense and my lips parted in bewilderment; the physiological and mental tether that dictated my reactions delayed.

I hadn’t even noticed Penelope gaping at me with doleful eyes, turning off her intercom so the rest of the team was unable to listen in. Although the same idea must have run through their heads as they swapped disconcerted looks at each other.

“Oh - my sweet Y/N - I don’t, do you want - oh -” Penelope stuttered empathetically, pushing herself off of her chair to gather an array of toys to comfort me. “I can - oh you can borrow my purple giraffe, that always makes me hap-” She continued, pushing the plushies into my chest.

“No, no I’m - Garcia I’m okay - thank you...tho” I reassured, gently guiding her back to her seat, despite her pitiful protests. Before she had the chance to argue against my reassurance, her attention was captured by Tara’s voice on the intercom.

“Hey Garcia can you check the satellite feed and see if there’s a side door to the building?” Tara requested. Although her tone was apprehensive and tame like she was tiptoeing around the question.

“Affirmative” Garcia replied enthusiastically, reaching a gentle hand over to where my hands laid on her shoulders. She ran her delicate fingers over my knuckles in a way to say a silent ‘it’s going to be okay’, leaning her head back against my stomach with a tenderness in her gestures.

“And - uh - Y/N? Are you okay?” Tara tentatively asked, in which Garcia proceeded to look into my somber eyes with an expectant gaze. As I saw her through my peripherals, I knew that she could sense my true feelings about the situation. Her eyebrows softened and her red painted lips dropped into a pout. She tilted her head cutely in an attempt to grasp my attention, but I knew the second I locked eyes with her, my facade would eventually dissipate. With the persistence to direct my eyes away from her incessant gaze, she knew.

Before I had the opportunity to reply to Tara, Penelope had beat me to it. “Y/N! She uh - she’s in the bathroom...right now” She explained, mustering up the calmness in her voice to sound convincing. Fortunately enough, the case had been the focal point of the unit for the past week that Tara hadn’t noticed the panicked wince that left Penelope’s lips.

“Garcia just-” Tara sighed, making Penelope’s chest tense up and soften simultaneously. “Just make sure she’s doing fine. Did she hear what JJ said?” She spoke with a sense of concern laced in her sentences, hoping that I was unbeknownst to JJ’s profession.

“Uh-” Garcia paused, looking to me for an answer with wide eyes. I shook my head in denial, not wanting the team to know of my knowledge. As much as I valued our team being a family, I knew I would receive burdened looks and multiple ‘nonchalant check-ups’ from Rossi. I didn’t want the word ‘victim’ painted on my forehead. “-No, she left the room before JJ said anything” Garcia affirmed, nodding her head yes, regardless of her unable to be seen.

“That’s good. Listen I’ll call you back when we get on the jet and keep an eye on Y/-”

“Oh! Y/N’s coming back - see you guys later” Penelope rushed, ending the call instantly before Tara could get out another word.

She swiveled in her chair, facing me once again. She took my hands in hers, standing up to pull me into her tight embrace. I relaxed in her touch, letting all the feelings melt away with every soothing word that permeated the room. Pulling away, she took surveillance of my state and furrowed her eyebrows in worry.

But it wasn’t my poignancy that sparked her perplexity, it was the lack thereof.

My cheeks should’ve been stained by an onset of tears, but it wasn’t. My eyes should’ve masked a similar pearl glaze that coated the film on Penelope’s eyes, but it didn’t. I should’ve been disheveled and overrun by overbearing anguish, but I wasn’t.

-

The numbers on the elevator rose expediently, indicating the arrival of the team. My hands shook in disquiet and suspense, my focus glued to my shoes as I felt my entire body get antsy. Penelope stood in front of me whispering a mellow encouragement, suggesting alleviating mantras that usually worked to calm her down.

Without another word said, the doors to the elevator dinged and revealed exhausted, yet relieved, adults. Although in the midst of it all, there was a heavy air of reluctance that surrounded the reunion, despite the gleeful interactions that were expressed through Penelope’s endearments.

I reveled in the sight of it all, feeling my heart swell at the inspiriting display of affection made by the team; a feeling that is often uncommon with our careers. I stood with my shoulders slumped, hands folded in my pockets, and at a distance from their reconciliation. It was only until I met the eyes of Spencer that my entire body flinched; and it was when I hadn’t met JJ’s gaze as she stared at the floor, when my heart fell flaccid at the bottom of my stomach.  

I approached Spencer with a fictitious content expression, not wanting to confront the issue at bay. I noticed his facial features contort from uneasiness to relief as he reciprocated the reassuring smile I wore for him. He took this as his cue to take hurried strides towards me to encase me with his arms in a bone crushing hug. For a split second I wanted to believe the fervor that swelled inside me while I surrendered in his embrace, but the wandering eyes of JJ had convinced me otherwise.

Spencer cupped both of my cheeks in his course hands, enthusiastically pulling me in for a long awaited kiss. But by instinct I yanked my face away from his hands forcefully, catching him and myself by surprise.

“I - um, sorry. I was having sushi with Garcia earlier and I don’t think you want to smell tuna breath” I joked, wiping Spencer’s touch off of my hands.

“Don’t be silly Y/N I haven’t seen you i-” Spencer persisted, reaching out to handle my wrists.

“Wait Spence - Spencer - um Spencer, I forgot to mention that Diana called earlier to check on you” I interjected, a guilty gut feeling resurfacing as I used his mother as a cheap excuse to divert the conversation. “Oh well, I was actually planning to visit her soon and I was going to ask you if you want to come wi-”

“I- I don’t know Spencer” I laughed, keeping up the phony disguise that I hoped was effective enough to bypass the room of profilers. “I just have a lot of paperwork” I justified, feeling myself shrink under his incessant scrutiny. His lips curled into a small pout and his eyes dulled for a moment. I stiffened in response, paranoid that he had discovered a chink in my armor. “Next time?” I offered, compensating for the lack of ardor in my decisions.

Despite my attempts at assuring him, his expression was still left to alter. By now the formalities between the team had ended, resorting to directing their attention to me and Spencer. Backing away from where Spencer stood, I met the wondering gazes of my peers. I gave a cordial nod to all of them, ignoring the obvious trepidation that was evident in their body language.

Receiving a final look from Penelope, I walked back to my desk, letting them plan their festivities without me.

-

A few weeks flew by since the incident. Despite the passage of time, the latter of the situation still sat heavy in my thoughts, consuming every waking moment I had.

The bags under my eyes became more prominent, the youthful glow on my cheeks had dimmed, and my voice diminished to a low mutter. The input I had contributed to cases followed the change in my demeanor, exponentially depreciating as the numbness increased.

Whenever I sat on my chair, my eyes would linger between Spencer’s desk that sat across JJ’s. At times the sight would invoke a bubbling envy that felt too visceral for me to experience, so I would set my emotions to the side; averting my effort into my paperwork.

Eventually as the cases became more gruesome and my mental paralysis ensued, I gradually reverted to writing up the paperwork instead of participating in active cases. Unfortunately the unanticipated change in my behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Emily called me into her office with a sense of urgency, and we’re both now here sitting across at a distance while she stared at me with a motherly look. Concentration was etched in her facial features, folding her hands together as she tried to dissect the impenetrable expression I wore.

“Emily please don’t profile me” I sighed, a tired grimace playing on my lips. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, leaning back into her chair as she continued to observe me. “I’m just worried Y/N - WE are all worried” She lamented, reaching over to grasp my hand. “You haven’t been yourself in a while Y/N. Did - is something, did something happen? Did you...find anything that made you upset?” She pursued, tiptoeing around the idea of JJ’s confession.

“NO! I, um - I haven’t - I just” I struggled to form coherent sentences, feeling panic flood through my system. “Look Emily, I appreciate the concern, but I’m just not feeling okay and I really don’t want to talk about it” I admitted. “I- I know it’s a lot, but w- would it be okay if I take a couple of personal days - I just can’t seem to figure myself out” I muttered, letting a fragment of my feelings slip into my profession.

“Take as many days as you’d like - and give me a call when things are...handled - just know that if you need anything - and I mean anything - you ca-”

“Thank you Emily” I nodded, cutting her off abruptly. I stood up from my seat with my head hanging low, giving her a tight lipped smile as I made my way to exit her office.

“Y/N!” She called out, stopping me in my tracks. I titled my head to the side, glancing at her. “Take care of yourself...please?” She desperately pleaded, her words laced with genuine concern.

For the first time, my heart ached at her words. The bitter feeling trickling into reality as the sorrowful eyes she beamed at me penetrated through my skin. It was then that I realized that the armor I wore to shield me from Spencer was really to shelter me from myself.

-

Spencer’s POV

My back slumped into the office chair while I played with the Doctor Who knick-knacks that Garcia had gifted to me at a Christmas party. My eyes were focused on the toy, but my mind had astral projected to another place: a place that wasn’t pleasant. The thoughts that were weighing heavy on shoulders had taken its toll on my arms, legs, and body like I was slowly being pulled away from reality into a dimension of isolation.

Although the only feeling I was allowed to experience was this nagging sensation in the back of my head, a thought that permeated my headspace, but wasn’t allowed to be identified or understood. I thought it was the aftermath of JJ’s confession, but that was handled during Rossi’s wedding.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know.

I didn’t know what had been circling in my head and I didn’t know how to control it. All I knew is that Y/N had taken a few sick days and that Emily had informed me that she hadn’t heard of JJ’s confession. But those days turned into weeks until a month had passed.

In the beginning of her leave, I’d call her everyday and occasionally visit her apartment whenever we were on a case, she would even call in to check on everybody. But like how the seasons change and the leaves start to decay, her efforts soon became stagnant. Soon after, my calls would be left unanswered, my visits to her apartment ceased due to no one responding, and she would only answer to Garcia.

I missed the way she would waltz into the office with the brightest grin she can offer and every time I’d look into her eyes, it felt like I had a glimpse into what heaven is. I missed the way she would curl up into my arms and breath in my scent, while we shared a book. I missed the way she’d bring the most wonderful orchestra to the moments where I felt my world become overrun by deafening silence. She had done nothing but bring love and devotion into everything she does.

So what dimmed the spark that usually burned interminably in her?

I set the trinket down to the side, taking a needed breath as my eyes were caught by a small picture frame that was delicately placed at the corner of my desk. An elated smile replaced the tired grimace I had been sporting all week, a newfound warmth filling my chest up with a familiar radiance.

It was a picture of Y/N when me and her had visited Central Park to ice skate. In the image she was in mid air, her eyes were shimmering against the snow that fell around us and she was laughing, a melody that I can still hear just by looking at a reminiscence of her. She was and still is the epitome of beauty.

I was taken out of my thoughts when a frantic Penelope zoomed through the bullpen with an unnerved look. She was caught in the arms of Emily, stopping her in her tracks and encouraging her to breathe. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and her hair was disheveled.

“I - I, oh my god - I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry - I w- wasn’t, it’s my fault - I wasn’t honest” She sputtered out, her hands shaking beside her as she tried to form proper sentences.

By this time the team had surrounded her as they witnessed her frenzy. I watched from afar as JJ and Tara came to Penelope’s side, consoling her. Luke and Matt joined me, watching the event unfold from a distance like I did.

“Is- is she okay? Did something happen?” Luke inquired, his words laced with panic and worry. I shook my head looking to Matt if he had any intel, but he also denied it. “Okay, I’m gonna go and see what’s-” Luke began, before getting cut off by Emily announcing an emergency meeting.

We all gathered around the round table, anticipation engulfing the air and each one of our faces. Penelope sported a perturbed expression while Emily stood behind her with a similar troubled look.

I folded my hands on the table while my legs had gotten antsy from the silence as everyone filed into the room. Finally when everyone was seated, Luke was the first one to break the quietude. “Is everything okay Penelope?” He asked.

It didn’t take a profiler to notice how Emily’s behavior shifted when Alvez spoke. Her shoulders had flinched, her breath had shortened, and her hands had risen up to Penelope’s shoulder in an attempt to encourage her to elaborate. These were the indications that usually meant an onslaught of bad occurrences, but I only had understood Penelope’s concern when Y/N’s name had surpassed her lips.

“What - What do you - What do you mean Y/N?” I blurted out, feeling my heart drop into my stomach. My hands traveled to the pockets of my blazer, feeling sweat begin to accumulate in my palms. My breath hitched at the mention of her, hoping and praying that she was alright.

All the attention had been directed to me, but at the moment I would have cared less if Newton or Pascal was staring at me. It was as if my heart and my mind were tethered together to create a perfect storm that could obliterate me. I searched Penelope’s eyes for direct answers, but she refused to meet my gaze.

“Garcia!” I instinctively called out, making her flinch in terror, which I ultimately regretted as she was already in such a distressed state. “I- I’m sorry. Penelope...what’s happening with Y/N?” I whispered, softening the tone of my voice, cautious of letting my voice crack knowing that the team would dissect my reaction.

She sighed, looking to Emily for help in which Emily nodded at her to continue. “She knows” Penelope admitted, lifting her eyes to finally meet mine. “Sh- she heard what JJ said, and now she’s n- not even talking to me” She sighed, her breath hitching between every phrase she enunciated.

I felt my body freeze, but I didn’t know if it was either in fear, anger, or disappointment in myself. My emotions had become a cluster of hell that would continue to haunt me until I figured things out; until I could fix things with Y/N.

I sensed the apologetic glances I received from JJ, but despite my acknowledgement of her intentions, the festering indignation I was feeling against her had jaded any compassion I had.

“Spence-” JJ apprehensively spoke with a motherly tone.

“Don’t! I-”

My eyes were glued to the table, blocking out any attempt that the team made to pursue a conversation with me. My hands fidgeted as I racked my brain for a concise solution, although the process wasn’t as easy as I’d like since my conscious had been enveloping itself with self reproach. But in the end, I knew where I wanted to be - where I was meant to be.

Without a second thought, I promptly stood up from the chair and fled the bullpen with no attention to how JJ was calling out my name.

part 2

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie

part 2 coming out tmrw or the day after that

see you soon <3

[scarlettriot]

When one feels like shit, one writes things to feel better :)

This is based on a very short headcanon I had a little while ago that I've decided to make into a little fic. I hope you enjoy.

Featuring: Mainly Pro Hero Red Riot. Also includes Pro Heroes Dynamight, Chargebolt, Earphone Jack, and Pinky

Y/N: They/Them (Y/H/N: Your Hero Name)

Warnings: Kidnapping (well, not kidnapping exactly, adultnapping), restrained, minor physical injuries, drugged into unconsciousness

HAPPY ENDING THOUGH, I PROMISE!

Summary: You've been captured by villains. Wonderful, right, just how you wanted your Friday to go. Your quirk isn't working thanks to them pumping you full of suppressant drugs. You were actually having a hard time remembering how you were abducted. You're only able to remember being on patrol and something smelling off before passing out. Now, thanks to the drugs, you were having a hard time remaining conscious in this...basement? Warehouse or it could be a factory... Someone would find you, your friends were perfectly capable. You just hoped it'd be before anything worse happened.

When you didn't report in at the specified time and weren't answering their calls, the rest of the heroes at the Alliance Agency grew concerned. Jiro was already pulling up your location on your cell phone while Kaminari searched for the tracker in your suit.

Unfortunately, they both ended up at the same location, a dumpster behind an apartment complex, you were nowhere to be found.

Bakugo and Kirishima, who were also concerned about your whereabouts, took a different approach since neither was too talented at the tech side of things.

Kirishima canvases the immediate area around your phone and tracker, using his easy-going smile and charming personality to coax information out of anyone who was willing to talk to him in the area. Meanwhile, Bakugo played to his own strengths and threatened the low lives of the area.

"Someone said they noticed two guys, 'helping' someone in a hero suit down the street earlier. The description of the person and suit match Y/N." Kirishima could see lights in a few of the windows flickering but no signs of people moving about in the apartments above. He couldn't help but wonder if you were in one of them.

He got a grunt of a response from Bakugo through his earpiece. "Yeah, well, I just persuaded some scum into giving up an abandoned factory location about 10 blocks from here. Says he doesn't know what they're doin' but he's seen people goin' in and out all the time. Seems odd since it's abandoned."

The location pinged on Kirishima's phone. "I'm six blocks away. Meet you there."

The building in question looked like it hadn't been in operation for at least a decade when he arrived but fresh tire tracks him something was definitely going on. Not to mention the building had electricity running to it judging by the lights he could see.

When Bakugo showed up minutes later they decided to enter through a southern entrance that Ashido had pointed out after pulling up blueprints at HQ.

"Most of the electrical usage is centered in that location." She explained, "If you're going to find anything useful, I'm betting it'll be there. Chargebolt and Earphone Jack will meet you as soon as they're done collecting security footage from the suspected abduction sight."

Bakugo scoffed. They were Dynamight and Red Riot, they didn't need any damn backup.

Kirishima broke the lock on the door with a sharp tug rather than letting Bakugo shoot it off with an explosion. "You take downstairs and I'll go up. We stay on coms." Kirishima nodded and started his descent.

There was a single guard with a gun resting on his knee and headphones in his ears making Kirishima's job too easy. Not even bothering to harden his skin, he whacked the back of the guy's head and he crumpled to the floor unconscious.

"Took out two guards and a scientist. Oh, there's a lab up here too."

"One guard taken out. Moving into another room now."

The metal door was locked up tight and the guard had a surprising lack of keys on their person. They could have been close by but Kirishima was impatient. He was aware this would be loud but at least it was efficient.

He hardened an arm and with one, two, slices of his hand diving into the metal he was able to create a hole... and garner attention. A knife broke across his hand and two gunshots were fired from inside the room, doing nothing to him.

"Gonna have to do better than that!" He roared with laughter.

Kirishima ripped the metal wide and stepped through. He wasted no time, grabbing the gun point-blank, bending the barrel upward with a devilish grin before turning on the man with two daggers. A green substance ran off his skin and down onto the blades. It burned slightly when they slashed at him but Kirishima was used to Ashido's acid by now that this was practically child's play!

The other guy came at him with an orange beam of light right from his eyes that managed to break through a bit of his hardened skin. He could feel blood start to trickle down from his forehead. "Now, we're getting somewhere!"

Using his body weight, Kirishima shoved the man with the daggers down to the ground, disarming him quickly, and used his own blades to live into his friend's leg. He watched as the acid melted the fabric and left black burns on the man's skin, nasty stuff. He tired another beam in retaliation but Kirishima dodged it this time.

"I'd love to keep playing around but I'm lookin' for someone." He used one hand to hoist the man up and another to shield his eyes. Instantly, Kirishima's hand started to burn but he held steady. "Do you know where Y/H/N is?" The beam pulsed stronger, "Fine. If you won't help me then I have no use for you." He sat him back on the ground, a harden fisted to the back of the head had him good and knocked out.

"What about you?" Kirishima asked, returning his focus to the dagger man, "Do you know where they are? Your operation is a bust, the least you can do is tell me where my friend is. I might even put in a good word for you if ya do."

He grabbed a discarded metal pipe and the man must have taken it as a threat because he lifted shaky hands that were no longer coated in green. "B-back there with the others."

"Others? Other victims or others of you?"

"Subjects, we have other subjects!"

Rage pulsed in Kirishima's veins but he kept a lid on it. "Right then. Thanks." He bent the pipe around the man's hands and another around his ankles before speaking over the coms again.

"Y/N isn't the only victim. Dynamight, get down here."

He was running to the back of the room when he saw you along with five others. Your wrists had been bound by metal shackles suspended from a beam high on the wall that the tips of your toes were just brushing the concrete floor. You were slumped forward with IVs poked into both arms.

"Y/N?" He calmly approached but you didn't answer. You just hung there like a rag doll.

Kirishima lifted your head in his hands and saw a few cuts on your face that had dried blood still surrounding them but he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the steady drumming of your heart, shallow, but there. You were alive and that was all he cared about.

"Okay. Gonna stop whatever the hell these are..." He flipped switches on the IVs and continued to talk out loud about his process. "Then gotta get 'em outta you..."

With surprisingly delicate fingers, he pulled the needles from your arms. Stopping the small pools of blood with a few pieces of gauze and tape that someone had been so kind to leave behind.

He then wrapped his left arm snuggly around your body. Holding you against him in a way he hoped didn't hurt you any more than you already were. With his right hand, Kirishima reached up to the shackles just as you started to stir awake.

One side of him was so completely soft and caring, the other hard and brutal, snapping the manacles in a powerful grip and you fell against him completely.

"Whadda hero." His ears glowed pink from the compliment.

"I'm really glad I got you back."

A/N: I know it isn't my best writing by any means but I had to do something to distract myself. Hope you're all doing well <3